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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87cbc5c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62455 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62455) diff --git a/old/62455-0.txt b/old/62455-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e2e2d5f..0000000 --- a/old/62455-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13244 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Guest the One-Eyed, by Gunnar Gunnarsson, -Translated by W. J. Alexander (William John Alexander) Worster - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Guest the One-Eyed - - -Author: Gunnar Gunnarsson - - - -Release Date: June 23, 2020 [eBook #62455] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUEST THE ONE-EYED*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing, ellinora, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/guestoneeyed00gunniala - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -GUEST THE ONE-EYED - - - * * * * * * - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -THE SWORN BROTHERS - - -A tale of the early days of Iceland by the most noted of living -Icelandic novelists. “To read it is like being struck in the face on a -sultry day with a breeze fresh from the glaciated mountains of the -Viking North.” - -—_The Bookman._ - -“Gunnarsson has made his characters so genuine, so red-blooded and so -masculine that they stand out like living men.” - -—_News-Tribune, Detroit._ - -_NEW YORK: ALFRED A. KNOPF_ - - * * * * * * - - -GUEST THE ONE-EYED - -Translated from the Danish of - -GUNNAR GUNNARSSON - -by W. W. Worster - - -[Illustration] - - -New York -Alfred · A · Knopf -1922 - -Copyright, 1915, by Gunnar Gunnarsson - -Copyright, 1922, by -Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. - -[Original title: AF BORGSLÆGTENS HISTORIE] - -Set up and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y. -Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York, N. Y. -Bound by the H. Wolff Estate, New York, N. Y. - -Manufactured in the United States of America - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - BOOK I - - ORMARR ØRLYGSSON 9 - - - BOOK II - - THE DANISH LADY AT HOF 107 - - - BOOK III - - GUEST THE ONE-EYED 189 - - - BOOK IV - - THE YOUNG EAGLE 273 - - - - - BOOK I - ORMARR ØRLYGSSON - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -Snow, snow, snow! - -Below and above—here, there, and everywhere! Up to his knees in snow, -Pall à Seyru struggled across the wind-swept heights. The snow whirled -down in great downy flakes, making it impossible to see more than a few -yards ahead. Stooping, with heavy, weary steps, he tramped on, an empty -sack slung across his shoulders. - -He had come from the trading station, and was on his way home to his own -hut in the mountains; the store-keeper had refused to grant him further -credit, and in consequence, he had chosen to return by this lonely track -across the hills, where he was sure of meeting no one on his way. It was -hard to come home at Christmas-time with empty hands to empty pots and -hungry mouths. - -His only comfort was the snow. It fell so thickly as to shut out all -around, and seemed to numb even the poor peasant’s despair within the -dismal prison of his mind. - -Now and again he heard a sound—the whir and cackle of ptarmigan flying -overhead. - -Suddenly a gust of wind sent the snow flying over the ground. -Another—and then gust followed gust, growing at last to a veritable -hurricane, that swept the very snow-clouds from the sky. And as if by -magic, a vast plain of snow lay open to his eyes. - -All Hofsfjordur was suddenly visible. Pall turned, and saw the last of -the clouds sweep down into the dark blue-green of the sea. To the -south-east, the peaks of the Hof Mountains rose out of the water, and -over the eastern landscape towered a long range of rocky mountains that -gradually merged into the great south-western plateau. His eye rested -for a moment on the vicarage farm of Hof—a few straggling buildings -clinging to the mountain-side, among which the black church itself -loomed out, right at the mouth of the fjord. The houses of the trading -station he could not see; they lay beyond, on the northern shore of the -fjord, safely sheltered behind the rocky walls of the islets that -offered such fine harbourage—to any ship that managed to reach so far. - -The parish itself lay between him and the Hof Mountains. A valley two -miles farther up was divided into two narrow dales by the Borgasfjall, a -steep and rocky height. The rivulets from the two valleys—now but -streaks of smooth ice—met lower down, making part of the valley into a -peninsula. The southern stream was named Hofsa, and its valley -Hofsardalur; the northernmost Borgara, and its valley Borgardalur; but -the rivulets, from their confluence to the outflow into Hofsfjordur, -still went by the name of Borgara, and the broad valley was called -Borgardalur. - -To the north, on the farther side of a narrow valley, likewise belonging -to the parish, were the faint outlines of broad, slowly rising hills—the -Dark Mountains. The ridge where Pall now stood was Borgarhals, and ran -for a long way between Borgardalur and Nordurdalen, in the heart of the -mountains, leading to the little glen where his cottage lay, close to a -brook, and not far from the lake. There were trout in the water there, -to be taken by net in summer, and in winter by fishing with lines -through holes in the ice. Wild geese, swans, and ducks were there in -plenty, from early spring to late autumn. - -But Pall’s thoughts had wandered far from all this, settling, as did his -glance, on a row of stately gables that rose above a low hill in the -centre of the peninsula, formed by the waters of Borgara and Hofsa. - -From three of the chimneys a kindly smoke ascended. The storm had -abated, and folk were beginning to move about here and there among the -outbuildings round the large walled farmyard. Already flocks of sheep -were on their way to the winter pasture at the foot of the hills, where -some dwarfed growth was still to be found. - -This was Borg, the home of Ørlygur the Rich, as he was called. It was by -no means uncommon for folk to speak of him as “the King,” for he ruled -over scores of servants, and owned hundreds of cattle and horses and -thousands of sheep. - -Suddenly Pall’s cheeks flushed with a happy thought. It had crossed his -mind that he might call at Borg. All knew that Ørlygur the Rich never -sent a poor man empty away. But then he realized that today was not the -first time the thought had come to him. No, better to give it up; he had -turned for help to Borg too many times before; he could not well ask -again. - -With bowed head, and face grey as before, he dragged himself along the -almost impassable track; he was exhausted; his limbs seemed heavy as if -in chains. - -From early morning to about ten o’clock, while the storm raged, the farm -hands and servants of Borg gathered in the women’s hall upstairs. The -men had come from their quarters, and sat about on the beds waiting for -the storm to abate before starting out to their work. The cowman alone -was forced to brave the elements and tend his cattle. - -Ørlygur had opened the door to his own room. He sat with his -two-year-old son Ketill on his knees, and talked quietly with his men, -exchanging views, or giving them advice about the work of the place. He -always treated them as his equals. The men sat with their -breakfast-plates on their knees, eating as they talked. Some of the -womenfolk went to and fro with food or heavy outdoor clothing; others -were darning socks or mending shoes. - -Ormarr, who was nearing his fourteenth year, sat in his father’s room, -on the edge of the bed, facing Ørlygur. It was in his mind that things -were beginning to be like they had been before his mother’s death, two -years ago. He sat with his hands on his knees, swinging his legs by way -of accompaniment to his thoughts. - -Never before had he missed his mother so sorely as this morning, when -every one else seemed to have forgotten her; never before had he felt -her loss so keenly. He sighed, checked the swinging of his legs, and sat -motionless for a while. Tears rose to his eyes. He felt he must go out, -or he would be crying openly in a minute, and disturb the comfort of the -rest. For a moment he sat pondering where to go, then he remembered that -the cowman would by now have finished work in the shed, and taking down -an old violin from a rack, he left the room. - -Reaching the cowshed, he sat down in his accustomed place, on a board -between two empty chests, and commenced tuning his instrument. It was an -old thing that had been in the family for generations, but no one could -remember having heard it played. Then, seven years before, Ormarr had -been taught the rudiments of music by a wandering fiddler, an -adventurous soul, who tramped the country with his fiddle slung over his -shoulder in a calfskin bag. Since then, Ormarr had given all his spare -time to the music. - -His father had marked with grief how this one interest had gradually -swallowed up all else; the boy cared nothing for the management of the -estate, or indeed for any other work. Possibly it was this which had led -Ørlygur, in spite of the doctor’s advice, to wish for another son. And -his wife had sacrificed her life in giving him what he wished. - -Hard and self-willed as he was in many ways, Ørlygur had yet a profound -belief in the right of every human being to determine his own life, to -follow his own nature and develop his gifts as long as it involved no -actual harm to others. And he made no attempt to coerce the boy; Ormarr -had his way. - - * * * * * - -About ten o’clock, when the snow had ceased, Ormarr slung his gun across -his shoulder and walked off toward Borgarhals to shoot ptarmigan. - -On the way, he met Einar à Gili, a troublesome fellow, who, in defiance -of the general feeling, had so little respect for the uncrowned king of -Borg that he had several times thrashed his son Ormarr without the -slightest provocation. It was the more unpardonable, since Einar was -about ten years older, and strong as a giant. And now, at sight of him, -Ormarr’s fingers fumbled in passionate helplessness at the trigger of -his gun. - -Einar hailed him, to all appearance innocent as could be. “Hey, Ormarr, -out shooting? Let’s go together?” - -Ormarr had no desire to go out shooting with Einar, but was curious to -know why the other had suggested it. - -“Then we can see who’s the best shot.” - -This was irresistible. Einar was a proverbially bad shot with a gun, and -Ormarr knew it. He made no protest, and they went on together. - -Every time he fired, Ormarr brought down two or three birds. Einar got -at the most one bird at a shot, and often sent the birds fluttering away -with broken wings. - -Nevertheless, Einar picked up all the birds that fell, and stuffed them -into his own bag. Ormarr demanded his share. - -“Oh, you’ve no bag, and there’s no sense wasting time tying your birds -together at every shot. Wait till we’ve done.” - -Ormarr had his suspicions, but said nothing. - -After a while they came to a good-sized rock, with two paths round. -Ormarr knew that the paths to the south was the longer. - -“Let’s go round and meet on the other side. I’ll go this way,” he said, -taking the northern path. And Einar agreed. - -When they met, neither had any more birds to show. - -“But you fired, I heard you,” said Einar. - -“I missed,” said Ormarr shortly. Einar laughed, but he took no notice. - -“Look, there’s one sitting on that rock,” said Ormarr suddenly, pointing -to a boulder some hundred yards away. “I’ll take him.” - -“No hurry,” said Einar; “I’ll bag that one myself. We needn’t go on any -longer—I’m going home now.” - -“How many have we got?” - -“Oh, twenty.” - -“Good, then give me mine.” - -“Ah, yes—next time we meet! I’m off. My love to the cattle at home.” - -Somewhat to his disappointment, Ormarr did not seem to be greatly -annoyed, but merely walked off, calling quietly over his shoulder: “Mind -you don’t miss that bird, Mr. Clever-with-your-gun.” - -Einar turned round angrily. “Don’t shout like that—you’ll scare it away. -That’s my twenty-first.” - -“All right. It’s too frightened of you to move. Go and see.” - -Einar took careful aim—his hand shook a little, but only because he was -inwardly chuckling over the trick he had played Ormarr, and the thought -of telling what he had done. Though, indeed, he might get little credit -for it all; people were rather apt to side with the lordly folk from -Borg. Still, it was good to have fooled that brat Ormarr again. - -The bird was sitting close on the rock. Einar fired, and, raising his -gun, saw that the bird was still in the same position. Seeing no -feathers fly, he thought he must have missed, and loaded again. Then -creeping cautiously forward, he rested his gun on a stone, and fired -again. The ptarmigan did not move. Einar felt sure his shot must have -taken effect. He went right up to it. The bird was dead enough, but what -was more, it was cold. And lifting it, he saw a piece of paper tied to -one of its legs, with a few words in pencil. “Clever shot, aren’t you? -Thanks for a pleasant day’s sport.—Ormarr.” - -“Curse the little jackanapes!” - -Einar never told any one after all how he had scored off Ormarr that -day. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr hurried along up hill and down, firing and reloading rapidly, -scarcely seeming to take aim at all, but never missing his bird. His -narrow sunburnt face was flushed with exertion, and drops of -perspiration trickled down from his forehead. His eyes searched eagerly -about for game, and in a very short time he had a bag of twenty-seven. -Then suddenly, coming round the corner of a rock, he stood face to face -with Pall à Seyru. Pall tried to avoid him, but Ormarr called him back. -He sat down, wiped the perspiration from his face, and smiled as Pall -came up. - -“Puh—I’m warm enough, for all it’s fifteen degrees of frost. You look -half frozen.” - -Pall muttered something, and tried to hide his empty sack, which had the -effect of drawing Ormarr’s attention to it. - -“What’s that—going back home with an empty bag? Won’t Bjarni let you -have things any more?” - -“I’m in debt there already. And I couldn’t promise to pay before next -autumn.” - -“But at Christmas-time—and you’re not a rich man.” - -“That makes but little difference in his books.” - -“Ho—who says that—you?” - -“’Twas Bjarni said so.” - -“And you had to go and ask him—beg of him—like that?” - -“Our cow didn’t calve, and we’ve no milk. And there’s no food in the -place beyond.” - -“H’m. What were you going this way round for? ’Tisn’t any short way -home.” - -“I didn’t want to meet anyone.” - -“And going back empty-handed? Why didn’t you come to us?” - -“I’ve been a burden to many this long time—to your folk more than any. -And I’ll not ask for help from the parish.” - -Something in the man’s face made Ormarr catch his breath. The blood left -his cheeks, and in a hushed voice he asked: - -“You mean—you’d....” - -Pall nodded. “Yes. There’s times when it seems better than living on -this way.” - -Ormarr sprang to his feet. - -“Pall ... here, take these birds—just from me. And come home and talk to -father. You must. He’ll be just as glad to do anything as you could be -for it. As for Bjarni, he’s a cur. You can tell him so from me next time -you see him.” - -Pall was silenced, and tears rose to his eyes. Ormarr understood, and -said no more. They divided the birds into two lots, though Ormarr would -gladly have carried the whole, and in silence they started off down the -slope. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr slept in a bed next to his father’s. It had been his mother’s -bed. When the light was put out that night, Ormarr had not yet found -courage to tell what he had been thinking of since his meeting with Pall -that day. Nor did he know what had passed between his father and Pall. - -Half an hour later, perceiving that his father was still awake, he -managed to whisper, softly and unsteadily: - -“Father!” - -It was as if Ørlygur had been waiting for this. He rose, and seated -himself at the boy’s bedside. - -“’Twas well you met Pall this morning, lad. His wife and two little -children were waiting for him to come home.” - -The words gave Ormarr the courage he had lacked. - -“Father, may I give him Blesa? His cow won’t calve for six weeks, and -they’ve no milk.” - -“I’ve promised Pall to send him Skjalda, and a few loads of hay the -first fine day the roads are passable. And I am going to take little -Gudrun to live here—they’ve enough to do as it is.” - -Ormarr’s heart was full of thankfulness to his father for his kindness -to Pall. But he was shy of speaking; words might say less than he meant. -And there must be no misunderstanding between his father and -himself—this thought was always in Ormarr’s mind, for he loved his -father deeply. Now in the darkness of the room, he could hardly -distinguish his features, but in his mind’s eye he saw him clearly, -sitting there on the bedside. He knew every line in the calm, composed -face, finely framed in the dark hair and brown beard. Often he had been -told that there was not a handsomer man to be found than his father. He -had the physique of an athlete, and Ormarr knew his every movement and -attitude. He strove now to breathe all his love towards the loved -figure, vaguely seen in reality, yet clear as ever to his mind. He felt -that his father could not fail to perceive the mute expression of his -loving gratitude. - -For a while both were silent. Then Ørlygur rose, and smoothing his son’s -hair, he said: - -“You know, Ormarr, that all I possess will in time belong to you and -your brother. Then you will be able to give away more than trifles. At -present, you have little to use in charity, but what you have, you may -do with as you please. Remember that it is our duty to help those who -are poorer wherever we can. And when you hear of any one that needs a -helping hand, always come to me. Wealth is not lost by charity. And now -good-night—it is time we were asleep.” - -He went back to his bed, and a moment after, spoke again. - -“Ormarr, you remember how generous your mother always was. You seem to -grow more like her every day. I think she would have been very happy -tonight.” - -Ormarr burst into tears, hiding his face in the pillow to make no sound. -And after a little while, he fell asleep. - -When he awoke next morning, he felt for the first time since his -mother’s death as if she were invisibly present among them—as a link -between his father and himself. - -And he was filled with a proud sense of having entered into a secret -covenant with his father; it gave him a feeling of manhood, of -responsibility. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Bjarni Jonsson, the trader, and Daniel Sveisson, the parish priest,—Sera -Daniel, as he was called,—sat drinking in Bjarni Jonsson’s front -parlour. They were seated by the window, looking out over the fjord. - -The sun was setting, and the shadow of the house was flung far out over -the smooth sea. The smoke from the chimney had already reached the rocky -haunt of the eider duck. The cliff was the home of immense flocks of -many-coloured birds, for it was spring, and the breeding season was at -its height. Numbers of gorgeous drakes were swimming round the rock, and -amongst them a few plump and comely eider duck, taking an hour’s rest -from their duties before sunset, leaving the nest and eggs to the care -of the father birds. - -Sera Daniel enjoyed the view, for he was looking out over his property. -The eider-duck cliffs, even those farther out, were by ancient custom -regarded as belonging to the living. And they brought him in a very nice -little sum. - -He puffed away at his long pipe in silence. - -Bjarni noticed his contented air, and was not pleased. Surely it would -be more reasonable that the revenue from the eider-duck cliffs should -come to him, Bjarni, as owner of the shore lands. But priests were all -alike, a greedy lot! For ages past they had been petted and spoiled with -all sorts of unjust privileges and unreasonable perquisites. And what -did they do for it all? Nothing in the least degree useful, nor ever -had—unless it were something useful to grow fat themselves in a -comfortable cure. - -Such was Bjarni’s train of thought. And he meant it all quite earnestly. -But he said nothing, for, outwardly, he and Sera Daniel were the best of -friends—drank their grog together, and played cards in all good -fellowship. At the moment, they were only waiting for the doctor to come -and take a hand. - -No, in his inmost heart Bjarni detested the priest; the portly figure of -the man was a continual eyesore to him. Sera Daniel was a man of -imposing presence, there was dignity and calm authority in his carriage -and bearing, and Bjarni, having no such attributes himself, found herein -further cause for jealousy. - -It would be hard to find a less imposing specimen of the human male than -Bjarni Jonsson, trader, of Hofsfjordur. Outwardly, he resembled more an -ill-nourished errand boy than anything else. His face was grey and -angular, the top of his head was covered with a growth of colourless -hair, and his pale blue eyes were as a rule void of expression, for the -reason that he was in constant fear of betraying his ever-present -jealousy of every one and everything round him. And the struggle had -marked his face, his eyes, every movement of his puny, stunted body, -with a stamp of servile cunning. His clothes hung about him like the -rags of a scarecrow in the field, the draggled moustache that hid most -of his mouth added to the general impression of meanness and -insincerity. - -At a first glance, Sera Daniel presented a complete contrast. - -His burly, well-fed body seemed to exhale an atmosphere of -cordiality——an ecclesiastical cheerfulness which gave his whole bearing -something of the stamp of the prelate. His fair hair carefully brushed -back from the broad, arched forehead, the blue, beaming eyes, the frank -expression of his clean-shaven face, which, however, never for a moment -relapsed from the bright, superior, yet mild professional mask of -dignity, of healthy godliness attained through inward strife and by the -grace of Heaven; the placid, yet telling gestures of his somewhat large, -plump hands; the sonorous voice with its echo of sanctity; and last, not -least, his faultless black attire—in short, his whole outward appearance -seemed to combine human forbearance and lofty understanding with the -rare power of living a full and yet exemplary life, kindly chastening -himself as well as others—all the qualities that go to the making of a -true servant of the Lord. - -But the simple, canny folk among whom he lived, and from whom he himself -was sprung, had not been long in penetrating beneath these externals. -They realized that he played his part well, and with a suitable mask, -which they tolerated, even respecting him for the same—at any rate, in -his presence, or when young people were about. But the elders among -themselves were not afraid of unmasking Sera Daniel with a sly wink, as -it were, in a manner of which he would certainly not have approved, nor -found consistent with the respect due to their spiritual guide. - -Men played their parts well in the parish of Hofsfjordur. - -And in the opinion of his parishioners, Sera Daniel was not the only one -who played a part at variance with the character behind the mask, though -Sera Daniel himself might have believed so. - -There was one family, or more exactly, a single figure, that did not fit -in with the cast of the local comedy. A keen observer could not have -failed to notice that the life of the community centred round this one -man: a dominant figure among the rest, who knew how to shape their views -according to his will. And he was a source of much annoyance to the -actors proper, more especially those who had cast themselves for leading -rôles. That man was Ørlygur à Borg. - -Ørlygur was in his forty-second year. From early youth he had been the -natural leader among his fellows; first and foremost, of course, as only -son and heir to Borg, but also by virtue of his personality, which was -excellently suited to bear the rank and wealth and responsibility -inherited from his forebears, who had, as far back as the memory of man, -been the self-appointed and generally respected leaders of the -community. - -Ørlygur à Borg, apart from being the greatest landowner in the district, -was also chairman of the local council, and led the singing in church—in -short, all that an Icelander combining wealth with intellect and -personality could attain. - -Moreover—and this was perhaps the corner-stone in the edifice of his -absolute authority—he was a conscientious adviser, an untiring and -disinterested helper of the poor, and an experienced and successful, -albeit unlicensed, veterinary surgeon. In this last capacity he was -consulted not only by the district, but also by many from other -counties, who were glad of his unfeed advice and skilful aid. - -It was generally recognized that Ørlygur à Borg was ever ready to serve -and assist any one, however humble, provided they accepted him as a -ruler. He never tolerated any attempt to place others on a footing of -equality with himself, or any violation of his privileges, however -slight. To those who submitted to his sway, he was a mild and gracious -god; to those who forgot the deference he demanded, he was a merciless -tyrant, swooping down on them in defiance of all generally accepted -notions of justice—though he would forget and forgive readily enough -when it was over. - -The peasants did not mind this. To them, Ørlygur à Borg was a kind of -human Providence—no less inevitable, and probably more pleasant, than -the divine. They knew, of course, that there was a King who ruled over -all, including the King of Borg. But they were nevertheless inclined to -place both on the same level. In the event of conflict arising, -doubtless Ørlygur à Borg would be a match for the other—even to gaining -for himself the armlet of sovereign power, as Halldor Snorrason had done -in the fight with Harold Hardrada. Ørlygur was equal to that at least. - -Their faith in him amounted almost to a religion. They felt themselves, -under his protection, secure and well provided for. - -Some few there were, however, who did not approve of the unlimited power -generally conceded to Ørlygur à Borg, and disliked what they considered -his unjustifiable assumption of superiority. This spring, there were at -least three such discontented souls within the parish. Two of them we -have met already—Sera Daniel and the trader, drinking their grog in the -parlour looking over the sea. And the third of the rebels was the -doctor, whom they were expecting to join them in a hand at cards. - -The priest and the trader, when alone together, spoke but little. They -had no interests in common. Their intellectual sphere was very limited, -and both had the same characteristic of the narrow-minded: concentrating -every atom of thought and will each on his own well-being. Consequently, -all talk between the two was obviously insincere; so much so, that even -these two not very sensitive beings realized the fact, and instinctively -shrank from any intimacy of conversation. - -On this occasion, as ill-luck would have it, the doctor kept them -waiting longer than usual, and Bjarni, as host, could not well sit all -the time without a word. At last, by way of saying something, he asked -how the wool was getting on. - -“Dry and packed three days ago,” answered Sera Daniel. - -Bjarni’s eyes flashed, and a smile flickered for a moment over his -wooden face. - -Sera Daniel read that smile, and marked the scorn of it. But as the -scorn, he knew, applied no less to the smiler than to himself he -refrained, on principle, from taking offence. - -Bjarni looked him straight in the face, and their eyes met. Then -suddenly both realized that this innocent and haphazard attempt at -casual conversation had opened up common ground between them, an -unexpected community of interest where each had only thought to find the -altogether unwished-for company of the other. - -Bjarni did not quite know how to improve the opportunity at first. He -decided on a gambit of innocent raillery. - -“Yes, we’re ready to weigh it now, I suppose ... that is, of course....” - -Sera Daniel looked searchingly at him, unwilling as yet to take any -definite step himself. - -“What are you paying this season?” - -“Sixty-five for best white, forty-two for black and mixed.” - -Sera Daniel glanced at him with a curious smile. “Is that—ah—the -ordinary price, or what you are paying Ørlygur à Borg?” - -The trader’s face flushed violently; the hand holding the glass trembled -a little. Without waiting for an answer, Sera Daniel made another shot. - -“Or perhaps you are thinking of paying the same price to all—for once?” - -Bjarni eyed him awhile in silence. He seemed to be turning over -something in his mind. The priest felt the glance, and knew what lay -behind it, but evinced no discomfiture. On the contrary, he met the -trader’s eyes with a smile of irritating calm. - -At last Bjarni spoke. - -“Yes,” he said slowly, “if you can let me have your wool tomorrow -morning.” - - * * * * * - -That same night Ormarr sat on the slope of the hill looking down to -Hofsa—just above the spot where the wool from Borg was washed every -spring. He was keeping watch over the clip. Large quantities were -already dry and stowed in bags; the grassy slopes were dotted with -little white piles of that which had still to be spread, waiting till -the morning sun had drawn the dew. - -Silently, filled with emotion, Ormarr gazed at the beauty and peace of -the spring night. The sky was clear and blue, and bright as day. - -Below him flowed the crystal rivulets, and farther off, above green -mountain slopes veiled in the glistening web of dew, rose stark grey -cliffs, furrowed by glimmering waters, higher up again, the luminous -white of the snow peaks, tinted all the night through with the gold of -dancing sun rays. - -From his childhood Ormarr had claimed the privilege of keeping guard -during the spring nights. In the earlier part of the season, he took his -post on the freshly growing pasture lands, keeping the sheep and horses -from straying in to nibble off the first blades of the young grass. -Later, when the sheep were shorn and driven up to the mountains, he -mounted guard over the wool, keeping a keen look-out for prowling -vagabonds, and covering up the heaps with tarpaulin in case of sudden -rain. - -To him, the vigils of these quiet nights were as hours of devotion. -During the lonely watches, he bared his soul in worship of the majesty -of nature, free of the restraint he always felt in the presence of -others. He drank in the fresh night air, with its sweetness of spring, -like a precious draught. And at times, the depth of his feeling brought -great tears to his eyes. Alone, he could allow himself to some extent -thus to give way to emotion, yet even then not without a certain sense -of shame. - -Tonight he was sadder than ever. It would be fine tomorrow, the last of -the wool would dry during the day, in time to be fetched away before -evening. - -That meant it was his last night’s watch this spring. - -His eyes took leave of the wild duck swimming in the stream near their -nests, that he had cared for and protected; several times he had waded -out to see how they fared. He looked the hillside up and down, bidding -good-bye to the buttercups and dandelions—every morning he had watched -their opening, a solitary witness, as they unfolded at the gracious -bidding of the sun. He noted, too, the great clusters of tiny-flowered -forget-me-nots that grew everywhere around. - -At five o’clock he rose to go. From one of the chimneys smoke was -already rising, thin and clear as from a censer; old Ossa had hung the -big kettle over the fire for early coffee. A big plate of new bread -would be waiting for him, with butter, meat, cheese, and a steaming cup -of coffee—a delicious meal. - -From force of habit he glanced round before moving off; counted the -chimneys from which smoke was rising, and looked about for any other -signs of life. Then suddenly he realized that something unusual was -going on. With trembling hands he adjusted the telescope he always -carried, and looked towards the spot. - -A moment later he lowered the glass and stared in bewilderment towards -the fjord. In a flash he realized what was happening, and set off home -at full speed. - -Heedless of Ossa and the meal she had already waiting for him, he dashed -up to his father’s room, not even stopping, as was his wont, to caress -the fair curly head of tiny Gudrun, the three-year-old daughter of Pall -à Seyru, whom Ørlygur had adopted. Ormarr loved the child. - -He did not stop till he reached his father’s bed. When Ørlygur opened -his eyes, he saw Ormarr standing before him, very pale, and breathless -with his speed. The sight startled even the King of Borg out of his -habitual calm; he sat up with a start. Realizing instinctively that -something was wrong, he reached out for his clothes at once. - -“What is it, my son?” - -“Father ... Sera Daniel ... carting his wool in already to the -station....” - -Ørlygur was already getting into his clothes. He stopped motionless for -a second; then a faint smile passed over his face, and he seemed to be -thinking. In less than a minute he had made up his mind. - -“The horses!” - -Ormarr did not wait for any further order. He hurried out of the room, -snatched up a bridle, and ran out calling: - -“Gryla, Køput, Kondut!” - -Barking and delighted, the farm dogs clustered round him, and followed -him out into the paddock, where he caught his father’s horse and vaulted -into the saddle. - -Ten minutes later, forty horses were stamping and neighing ready for -work. Swiftly they were brought round, the pack-saddle put on, and -loaded up with the finished wool. - -Ormarr had overheard his father’s brief, sharp orders to the foreman, a -man he could trust. He had kept close at hand all the time, listening -eagerly to what was said. At last, when all was ready for the start, he -looked up earnestly. - -“Father—may I?” - -Ørlygur à Borg looked at his son in surprise. - -“You? Nay, lad, I’m afraid that would hardly do.” - -But his voice was not so decided, harsh almost, as it was wont to be -when he refused a request. He even glanced inquiringly, as it were, at -the foreman, who smiled back merrily in return. That seemed to settle -it. Ormarr’s eyes were bright with anticipation. - -Ørlygur laid one hand on his son’s shoulder—not patting his head or -cheek as he generally did—and said: - -“Good. You can do the talking. You heard what is to be said and done—you -are sure you understand?” - -Ormarr did not give himself time to answer. But his leap into the saddle -was enough; evidently he had grasped the spirit of his father’s -commands. - -They did not take the usual route to the trading station; anything -moving along that road would be visible from below for the greater part -of the way. And they were to come unexpectedly. Therefore they took the -road across Borgarhals and Nordurdal, so as to reach the station before -any knew of their coming. - - * * * * * - -It was the unwritten law of the district that no wool should be brought -to the station before the King of Borg had sent in his. The custom dated -back further than any could remember, it was part of the traditional -precedence generally conceded to the masters of Borg. At first, it had -sprung from a natural desire among the people to show their respect for -their chieftain and benefactor. Then, when it had grown to be a -time-honoured custom, the men of Borg had taken care to have it -maintained, regarding any violation as a personal affront, a -challenge—and none had ever known such challenge to remain unpunished. - -There was, moreover, another custom in connection with the sales of -wool—to wit, that Ørlygur à Borg fixed his own price for his, while the -others who had wool to sell had to be satisfied with what the trader -chose to pay them. Ørlygur took no heed of ruling market prices, but -based his figures on the prices he had to pay during the past year for -goods he himself had bought from the trader. - -No one grumbled at the arrangement. Ørlygur always paid cash for what he -ordered, while every one else found it necessary to take goods on -credit; all had an account, great or small, with Bjarni, and were in -consequence dependent on his good-will. They knew, that in the event of -Bjarni’s good-will failing, there was always Ørlygur, ever ready to help -whoever asked. - -Truth to tell, Bjarni, the trader, was not a little nervous when Sera -Daniel arrived with his wool early in the morning. He did his best, -however, to conceal his uneasiness, but the false jocularity with which -he strove to hide it was belied by the anxious glances wherewith he -scanned every now and then the road from Borg. - -The weighing in was done in the big warehouse. Sera Daniel was smiling -and confident as usual, though his eyes showed signs of having slept ill -the night before. - -“Well, Sera Daniel,” said Bjarni, who was watching the weighing with -mock earnestness, “this is a bold stroke of yours indeed.” He glanced -hurriedly in the direction of Borg as he spoke. “Frankly I was not at -all sure that you would have ventured, when it came to the point. -Anyhow, I fancy this marks the end of ‘the King’s’ supremacy.” - -The doctor came up, yawning, and rubbing his eyes. - -“Aha—this looks nice,” he observed. And then, referring to Bjarni’s last -remark, he went on: “And it’s high time we did start acting for -ourselves. Rebellion, eh? I tell you what, I’ll stand drinks all round -when you’ve finished here.” - -There was great commotion at the station; folk hung about in crowds -outside the stockroom. A few only dared to enter; the rest preferred to -wait and see what happened. They were not without a certain satisfaction -at the act of rebellion, albeit aware that it was their duty to feel -indignant. There was a general atmosphere of excitement—what would -happen next? - -“And this year the price of wool is the same to all,” said Bjarni -exultantly to the doctor. “If he doesn’t care to deal with me, he can go -to Jon Borgari.” - -The doctor laughed loudly, and Sera Daniel smiled approval. Jon Borgari -was a man of sixty, who had set up on his own account in a small way, -some five years back. On payment of fifty Kroner, he had acquired a -licence to trade. His store was a mean little place, his whole -stock-in-trade hardly amounted to more than one of Ørlygur’s ordinary -purchases from Bjarni. He had found it impossible to do any considerable -business, as the peasants were all in debt to Bjarni already, and could -not transfer their custom elsewhere. Jon was considerably older than -Bjarni, but the latter’s business was of longer standing. Bjarni had -moved to Hofsfjordur twelve years before, and partly, at least, by his -industry and smartness, he had compelled an old-established house in the -place, a branch of a foreign firm, to close down. This he could never -have done had it not been for the patronage of Ørlygur à Borg. - -It was commonly supposed that Jon Borgari had saved a good sum in his -time—and the idea was further supported by his recent marriage to a -maiden of eighteen, who had accepted him in preference to many eager -suitors of the younger generation. But no one ever dreamed of -considering Jon Borgari as a possible “purveyor to the King.” - -Bjarni’s warehousemen were busy weighing in the priest’s consignment. -There was still no sign of life on the road from Borg. And gradually -even Bjarni himself began to forget his fears. - -Then suddenly the blow fell. Ormarr with his five men, and the laden -horses, came galloping up: Ørlygur à Borg had sent his wool. - -Bjarni was struck with amazement; for a moment he could not grasp the -situation. Sera Daniel retired prudently to the back of the room. The -doctor joined him, with an expression of pleasant anticipation on his -puffy face. This was going to be amusing. And, fortunately, he himself -had nothing to do with the affair. - -When the first shock had passed off, Bjarni realized with a feeling of -relief that Ørlygur himself had stayed at home. To the onlooker this was -a wonder in itself. Never before had Ørlygur à Borg sent in his wool -without accompanying it in person. - -For a moment all sorts of wild conjectures passed through Bjarni’s -brain. And then—he committed the fatal error of coming to the conclusion -which best suited himself; Ørlygur must have stayed away in order to -avoid being present at his own defeat, in the setting aside of ancient -custom. - -Ormarr did not dismount. He rode straight up to the trader, and said: - -“My father has given orders that his wool is to be weighed in at once.” - -He spoke without the slightest trace of emotion; as if it were a matter -of course that the trader should stop the weighing of any one else’s -wool and attend to Ørlygur’s forthwith. - -Bjarni again indulged in an erroneous inference: Ørlygur à Borg had -stayed away because he feared his demands might be refused. And if “the -King” himself thought that possible—why, then, it could be done! - -A wave of joy swept over Bjarni. He felt as if he had already won a -decisive battle against heavy odds. And his reply was given in a tone -more overbearing than usual—though he regretted it the moment he had -spoken. - -“We can’t very well stop weighing in this lot now. What do you say, Sera -Daniel?” - -Sera Daniel said nothing at all. His friend Bjarni would have to carry -the matter through without assistance. - -Bjarni turned to Ormarr once more—the boy was still in the saddle—and -adopting a fatherly tone, went on: - -“But it won’t take very long, you know. If you start unloading the -horses now, and get the bales undone, while we’re finishing this, there -won’t be much time lost.” - -But before any one could say more, a new development occurred. Ørlygur à -Borg, on his snorting, fiery mount, Sleipnir, dashed into the stockroom. - -His entry came like a thunder-clap. The onlookers, who had kept their -distance up to now, drew closer in, holding their breath. No one, not -even Ørlygur’s own men, with the exception of Ormarr, had expected this. - -Bjarni, Sera Daniel, and the doctor greeted him in servile fashion; he -answered with an impatient gesture, as of a sovereign in ungracious mood -towards importunate underlings. Then riding up to Ormarr, he asked -quietly: - -“What are you waiting for?” - -“They are weighing in Sera Daniel’s wool.” - -“Has Bjarni refused to take over mine at once?” - -“Yes. He asked us to unload and wait.” - -“Good. We will take it back to Borg.” - -Then, having given his orders, Ørlygur rode up to Bjarni, pressing him -so close that the foam from his horse bespattered the trader, forcing -him to retreat step by step. - -“Now mark you this, Bjarni Jonsson. You can hire horses yourself to -fetch that wool from Borg. But do not come until you are prepared to pay -a heavy price. I warn you, my wool this year will not be cheap.” - -Then, without a word of farewell, he turned his back on the speechless -and astonished trio, and with a cheery smile to the crowd, rode -homeward, followed by his men. - -That day messengers were sent out from Borg to all the farmers round, to -say that Ørlygur à Borg was willing to buy wool for cash, at the same -prices as offered by the trader. - -Next morning, he sent off one of his men with a letter and a -saddle-horse to Jon Borgari. Jon read the letter, mounted at once, and -rode back to Borg, where he was closeted with Ørlygur for some time. -When he left the place, he looked as if ten years had fallen from his -shoulders. - -The farmers understood that Ørlygur’s offer to buy their wool for cash -was equivalent to a command—they must choose between him and the trader. -And they did not hesitate a moment. - -Ørlygur paid them in gold and silver. Then, with his help, they wrote -out the lists of the goods they required, the lists being subsequently -handed to Jon Borgari. Jon was now Ørlygur’s ally, and in a very short -time his unpretending little store was threatening the trade of Bjarni -Jonsson’s own. - -Bjarni Jonsson’s trick had recoiled upon himself. He got Sera Daniel’s -wool—but not a pound from any one beside. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -One burning hot afternoon, late in the summer, Ormarr was sitting up on -the edge of a high ridge of Borgarfjall, to the west of Borg. A great -flock of sheep grazed on the plateau below. - -Ormarr, as shepherd, found his task light. It was just after -lambing-time, and for the first two or three days the sheep had been -difficult to handle. Full of anxiety, and bleating piteously, they -rushed about in all directions, vainly seeking their offspring. Now, -however, they had more or less accustomed themselves to the new state of -things, and kept fairly well together, so that Ormarr was free to devote -most of his time to his favourite pursuits: playing the violin, and -dreaming. - -He made a curious picture, this fourteen-year-old peasant lad, as he sat -there, clad in rough homespun, his clothes fitting clumsily, and hiding -the lithe beauty of his frame. The clear-cut face, the strong chin -resting on the violin, and the lean hand with its supple fingers running -over the strings, contrasted strangely with the everyday coat, darned -and patched in many places. - -Often he fell into a reverie, his dark eyes gazing on the distant -mountains, the fingers relaxing, and the slender brown hand with the bow -resting on his knee. The face, too thin for a boy of his age, bore a -grave and thoughtful expression, with a touch of melancholy. The black -masses of curling, unruly hair, and the faint coppery tinge in the skin, -suggested Celtic descent. - -Yet despite the trace of something foreign in his appearance, he was at -heart a true child of his country. The wistful, dreamy thoughts that -burned in his dark, passionate eyes, betrayed that rich and abundant -imagination peculiar to the sons of Iceland, fostered by the great -solitude and desolate yet fertile grandeur of the land itself. So deeply -is the sense of that grandeur rooted in their hearts, that even those -who have roamed the world over, and lived most of their lives in milder -and richer climes, will yet declare that Iceland is the most beautiful -of all. - -Another typical trait in Ormarr’s nature was the melancholy that -consumed his soul—a product of youthful self-absorption without the -corresponding experience. - -His descent from the ancient and noble race of Borg was apparent in his -chariness of words, in his credulity,—it was a thing inconceivable, that -he or any of his should tell a falsehood,—in his self-reliance, and -strong belief that he was in the right, as long as he followed the -dictates of his own conscience. Young as he was, every look, every -feature, betrayed the born chieftain in him. - -This was evident most of all in his music—which consisted mainly of -dreams and fantasies he had himself composed. From the first day he had -learned to hold the instrument, he had thrown into his music a burning -interest and an overwhelming love. It gave him the only possible outlet -for the longing that filled him. - -Loneliness and despair sobbed in the sweet and passionate strains; the -strings vibrated with a deep desire, that yet had no conscious aim, but -the sound brought relief, though never satisfying to the full. - -His playing revealed his soul as a wanderer in the wilderness—as a giant -whose strength is doomed to slumber under the weight of unbreakable -shackles; it showed that, to him, life was a slow, consuming pain, the -purpose of which he could not grasp; that he was born with a wealth of -power, yet found no single thing to which he could devote it. Here he -was, heir to the estate, and yet—perhaps for that very reason—born in -bondage. - -Despite his youth, Ormarr was alive to the danger of his changing moods, -which, as he often thought, bordered on insanity. Proud as he was of -being heir to Borg, he nevertheless felt a smouldering hatred of his -heritage, since it fettered him from birth. With all these longings in -his soul, he was conscious of being himself part and parcel of Borg; -something told him that here, and here alone, was the soil in which his -personality and varying moods could grow into one harmonious and united -whole. He had only to follow in the steps of his fathers. But this, -again, seemed too easy a solution of the riddle of life—he preferred a -struggle to the death. It was as if his descent, and his natural -prospects, excluded him from all the adventures he longed for; the part -for which he seemed cast was beneath the level of his strength and -ability. - -But he realized that any outward expression of such thoughts would -compromise him, and bring disgrace upon his family: he must conceal -them, hide them in silence, never breathe a word of it all to any other. -Only in his music, where he could speak without betraying himself by -words, could he venture to ease his heart of its burden. - -He felt like a galley slave, chained to the oar for life, without hope -of escape. The idea of rebellion, of emancipation, had never crossed his -mind. Had any one suggested such a thing, he would have risen up in arms -against it at once, for, in spite of all, he felt himself so at one with -his race that to desert it thus would be nothing less than to betray -himself. - - * * * * * - -That same afternoon an unexpected event took place at Borg. The Vicar, -Sera Daniel, accompanied by Bjarni Jonsson, came to call. - -Ørlygur à Borg was resting on his bed, which in the daytime was covered, -like a couch, with a many-coloured rug, when news was brought him of the -visit. The girl informed him that she had asked the visitors into the -big hall. Ørlygur smiled when he heard their names. He had just returned -from a sale of driftwood, held at the instance of one of the farmers -whose lands ran down to the shore, and who yearly gathered in large -stocks of washed-up timber, which was subsequently sold, either -privately or by auction. He was tired, and felt too comfortable where he -was to care about moving. - -“Let them come in here if they have anything to say,” he told the girl. - -The two men exchanged glances when the message was brought them. Each -found a certain satisfaction in witnessing the humiliation of the other, -which helped him to bear his own. Nevertheless, on entering Ørlygur’s -room, both were visibly embarrassed. - -Ørlygur himself did nothing to set them at their ease. Without rising, -he took their proffered hands, answered their greetings with a murmur of -something inaudible, and indicated that they might be seated. - -There was but a single chair in the room, placed between the two beds. -Sera Daniel would willingly have left it to Bjarni—though he considered -it due to himself and his superior social position to take it in order -not to be too close to his host. Bjarni, however, had a similar -disinclination, and forestalled his companion by taking a seat at once -on the edge of the bed, well pleased at having attained his end, while -seeming to act from sheer natural modesty. - -For a while no one spoke. Ørlygur stretched himself, and smiled faintly, -awaiting the explanation of the visit. - -Sera Daniel cleared his throat for an introduction he had prepared -beforehand. But he got no further than a slight cough. And, looking at -Bjarni, he perceived that the latter was in a like predicament, his -usually grey face turning a fiery red. - -Ørlygur was enjoying the situation, and maintained a ruthless silence. - -Sera Daniel soon realized that he could look for no assistance from the -trader, who apparently considered that the priest’s closer proximity to -the enemy carried with it the obligation to deliver the first attack. At -last he stammered out: - -“Er—we have come—to tell the truth—to see you. H’m—about a matter -that—er—distresses us somewhat. And we thought that—perhaps—it might be -not altogether pleasant to yourself—that is to say—of course—I mean, -considering....” - -Ørlygur slowly rose to a sitting position. Then setting his hands firmly -on his knees and leaning forward slightly, he looked straight into the -other’s eyes. - -“To tell the truth, Sera Daniel, I am not aware of any matter which -distresses me in any way at the moment. I fancy your idea of something -_mutually_ unpleasant must be due to a misunderstanding. Your troubles -are hardly mine, you know; the more so since we have seen very little of -each other for quite a long time now.” - -“No, no, of course not. But—you know better than any one else that it is -you who set the example to all the parish.” - -“If that is so, you explain yourself badly. I stay away from church, -certainly—for the simple reason that I prefer to avoid meeting a -clergyman whom I dislike. My affair with you will keep me away from -church until it is settled—possibly as long as you conduct the service -there. If the rest of your parishioners elect to do the same, it merely -means that your conscience will soon forbid you to remain as spiritual -guide to a flock who avoid you. If, on the other hand, your conscience -should prove more accommodating in this respect, I have no doubt that -the authorities will discover in a short time what you are unable to see -for yourself. You take my meaning, Sera Daniel?” - -“I am not sure that I do. I cannot see why a thoughtless action on my -part last spring—which I deeply regret—should embitter you to such an -extent that you stake the spiritual welfare of the congregation in -revenge.” - -“Oh, that’s rather too much. You say you regret your thoughtlessness -last spring. I translate that as meaning simply that you regret having -managed so badly; that you realize the failure of your clumsy conspiracy -against me, with our friend the trader there—who seems worn out by the -heavy business of the summer season, since he apparently can’t open his -mouth. And then you haven’t even the decency to keep this sordid affair -to itself, but must mix it up with the spiritual welfare of your -congregation. Well, it simply shows that you are more impudent even than -I had thought.” - -“If it were not that my position as incumbent here forces me to set -aside my personal interests—for the sake of the parish, you -understand—and to avert if possible the disastrous consequences—” - -“Disastrous? My dear Sera Daniel, you are a marvel. Unless you take ‘the -parish’ as meaning yourself and some few others, I cannot see your -argument at all. I do not regret, and see no reason to regret, what has -taken place, and I am afraid ‘the parish’ takes the same view. I am not -one of those men who act hastily and afterwards regret their folly. -Candidly, Sera Daniel, your ideas are too vague and too complicated for -me to care to discuss them further. I have had quite enough of empty -talk; let us come to facts. And here I imagine that Bjarni Jonsson will -be better able to speak. How very fortunate that he happened to come at -the same time.” - -Then, turning to Bjarni, Ørlygur went on: - -“As far as I remember, we arranged last time I saw you, that you could -come out here and buy my wool when you were prepared to pay a decent -price.” - -“Certainly—yes, of course. That is, I am ready ... to discuss....” - -“Very well, then. I hope the discussion will be brief. Let me make it -clear at the start that my terms are fixed, and not intended as a basis -for negotiation. You can, of course, refuse them if you prefer, but I -must insist on the matter being settled quickly. I need not tell you, I -suppose, that I bought up all the wool I could last spring, when I -realized that prices would be exceptionally high—your books have no -doubt made that evident to yourself already. I am willing to let you -have all my wool at a reasonable price, as I know that many of the -peasants hereabout are in your debt, and that you are anxious for a -settlement. I myself am not in your debt. I do not owe you money, and -certainly very little consideration. My peasants, on the other hand—you -must excuse my calling them ‘my peasants,’ we are linked, you know, by -friendship and common interests—my peasants owe you money, and I am -willing to offer my wool in clearance of their debts, or as much of -their debts as it will cover. The debt will thus be transferred to a -creditor who can perhaps afford to give them longer credit. You, I take -it, are chiefly anxious to make money.” - -Bjarni sat with downcast eyes. The word of “the King” cut him like a -knife. He realized well enough that his business at Hofsfjordur would be -entirely ruined. Up till now he had cherished a faint hope that Ørlygur -would spare him, if only he humbled himself sufficiently. At length he -realized, that though Ørlygur had mercifully saved him from absolute -ruin, and reduced his loss by paying the farmers’ debts, he would never -have another customer unless he could succeed in winning him over again. -And the present reception did not seem to offer any great hope of -re-establishing that connection. - -Yet he still clung to the hope that by absolute humility he might work -on Ørlygur to extend his leniency still further. Therefore, without a -murmur, he agreed to Ørlygur’s terms. He could not reconcile himself to -the idea of leaving the place and throwing up the excellent position he -had toiled and planned so many years to gain. He could not bear to think -that all was absolutely lost through his own stupidity. - -His blood boiled at the thought, but he dared not show it; his fate -depended now on Ørlygur’s next move. And meanwhile, his little cunning -soul was on the alert for any opportunity of showing “the King” what a -loyal subject he could be, and would, if only he might be forgiven this -once. - -Nevertheless, his heart was filled with a vindictive hatred—first and -foremost hatred of Ørlygur, then of Sera Daniel and the rest of the -community. Fate had been cruel to him, and was mocking him into the -bargain—the one consolation about the whole affair was that things -seemed as bad at least, if not worse, for Sera Daniel. - -Had Bjarni, the trader, but known that Ørlygur à Borg was at that very -moment filled with loathing for the servility he displayed, he would -have given vent to a burst of rage on the spot—and it might have saved -him, as nothing else could. - -Ørlygur certainly felt sorry for the fellow; he knew how much Bjarni had -at stake, and how harmless and altogether inferior he really was. He -decided, therefore, to spare him, if he could, by unreasonable demands, -lead him to give up his servile attitude and lose his temper in honest -fashion. - -“Well, then, my horses and men are at your disposal for carrying the -wool, if you wish to buy it—the price of transport, of course, being in -addition. I can let you have fifty horses for the work, so it will not -take long. The price—well, it will simplify matters to fix one price for -all wool of the same colour. That is to say: one Krone for all white, -and half a Krone for the rest.” - -Bjarni turned pale; for the moment he found it difficult to control his -features. He looked at Ørlygur with the eyes of a wounded dog. But -Ørlygur seemed not to notice his imploring gaze, and went on carelessly: - -“Well, what do you say? Is that fair?” - -“Yes,” stammered Bjarni in reply. Then, quickly, and with an assumption -of easiness, he added: - -“Well, then, that is settled. Tomorrow?” He nodded as he said the last -word; he felt that the moment had come to change the tone of the -conversation. This cheerful acceptance on his part of an absurd price -was a friendly hand, which he expected Ørlygur would grasp at once. - -The effect, however, was contrary to what he had looked for. Ørlygur -seemed to take it as a personal affront; he rose quickly, and said in an -angry voice: - -“Very well, then!” - -The two visitors also rose, and without a word all three walked from the -room. - -Sera Daniel also was highly dissatisfied with the result of his visit. -Both he and Bjarni were in a state of painful suspense with regard to -the future; they could not persuade themselves that this was Ørlygur’s -last word in the matter. It was too dismal a failure for them to accept -it as final. Sera Daniel had hoped that the threatening cloud of -Ørlygur’s displeasure, which had darkened his work and prospects all -through the summer, would be dispelled. He fretted inwardly over every -word he had said, and the manner in which he had spoken. Bjarni, too, -had cherished similar hopes; an amicable settlement meant even more to -him than to the priest. - -As if by common instinct, both men hesitated to leave; their manner -showed plainly that there was more in their minds. But Ørlygur pretended -not to understand their anxiety, and left it to them to make any further -move. - -Meantime, they had reached the stables. And here they stopped. Ørlygur -seemed only waiting for them to take their leave; but the visitors still -hoped for some opening—something to happen, they did not quite know -what. - -Then suddenly the quivering notes of a violin were heard. Here was a -welcome excuse for delaying their departure. Ørlygur was listening with -delight, as so often before, to his son’s playing; for a while all three -stood motionless. - -Ørlygur smiled; a smile that covered, perhaps, both his admiration and -his aversion—the two conflicting feelings which Ormarr’s playing always -seemed to awaken at the same time. - -Then Sera Daniel spoke—simply and naturally: - -“How beautiful!” But at the same moment he reflected that he ought to -know Ørlygur’s character better than to say things like that. And by way -of altering the impression of his words, he added, in an entirely -different tone: - -“There is the making of a fortune in that music.” - -Ørlygur à Borg did not grasp his meaning. And though he knew that Sera -Daniel would never dare to make fun of him, “the King,” to his face, he -was on his guard. He looked at the speaker with a glance of cold -inquiry. - -Sera Daniel went on: - -“In foreign countries there are artists who make fortunes by playing the -violin. I have often wished that I were an artist like that ... it must -be wonderful to travel from one great city to another and be rich. I -have heard such men in Copenhagen, when I was studying there.” - -When Ørlygur à Borg realized that the priest’s words pointed, not to -impossible realms of fancy, but to a world of beautiful reality, the -look in his eyes changed. So strange was his glance, so complete the -alteration, that Sera Daniel flushed with pleasure at the effect of his -words. - -For a while Ørlygur stared straight before him, as if in thought. Great -things were passing in his mind. Where others would deliberate at -length, Ørlygur à Borg was capable of taking in a situation in a moment. -He was thinking of Ormarr’s and his brother’s future, and with his -wonted respect for sudden impulses, which he was almost inclined to -attribute to divine influence, he made up his mind quickly. - -He turned to the priest. - -“While I think of it, Sera Daniel, there is a matter I have been wanting -to talk over with you for some time. Are you going back home by the -shorter road? Then I will go with you part of the way.” - -The trader took the words as a hint to himself to disappear. Bidding -good-bye to Ørlygur and the priest, he rode off with a troubled mind. -This was worse than all; an understanding between Ørlygur and Sera -Daniel left him utterly hopeless. - -Sera Daniel, on the other hand, was delighted at the honour conferred on -him by the King of Borg. Leading his horse, he walked down the road with -Ørlygur, waiting for what was to come. - -Ørlygur had made no mistake in calculating that the fright he had given -the priest would suffice to keep him from any further attempts at -revolt. After that lesson in the unwritten law of the parish, Sera -Daniel would be ready to serve him to the utmost, if need should arise. -And as things were turning out now, the priest might well be useful to -him, in regard to the future of his sons. Ørlygur determined to make -peace. - -They walked on for a while in silence. Then Ørlygur spoke: - -“Sera Daniel—would you undertake to teach Ormarr Danish? He knows a -little, and it would be as well for him to improve on it before he goes -away. He will be leaving for Copenhagen this autumn.” - -Sera Daniel was almost moved. - -“A pleasure indeed—a very great pleasure. I am glad to hear he is going. -There is a great future in store for him—of that I feel sure. I have -rarely heard any one play so well; he seems far in advance of his age. -You should send him to the Conservatoire at Copenhagen—they will make a -great artist of him there.” - -“Yes—or to some eminent teacher.” - -“At first—yes, of course.” - -“From first to last,” Ørlygur corrected, with a smile. “He must have the -very best teacher throughout. I am going to give him every possible -chance. And with regard to his stay in Copenhagen, and matters -generally, perhaps you could give him some hints....” - -They discussed the matter at length. And when Sera Daniel rode home, his -fickle heart swelled with love and admiration for Ørlygur the Rich, who -had become his gracious patron after the long, dreary months of enmity. - - * * * * * - -That evening when Ormarr had driven the sheep into the fold, he saw his -father coming slowly towards him, and realized that Ørlygur wished to -speak to him. - -The two sat down on the grassy wall of the paddock. - -“Bjarni Jonsson has been up to buy the wool.” - -Ørlygur spoke without any sign of triumph in his voice, and Ormarr -evinced no excitement at the information. To both it seemed only natural -and inevitable that the matter should have ended thus. - -“Sera Daniel came with him.” - -After this there was a pause. Then Ørlygur looked his son in the eyes. -“Ormarr,” he went on, “I have something important to say to you. You are -growing up now, and we must think of your future. Not yours alone, but -that of your brother and the estate as well. In short, it concerns Borg. -Have you any wish to take over the management of the place?” - -“I don’t know....” Ormarr gazed thoughtfully before him. - -“Well, I will tell you what I have been thinking of today. Sera Daniel -tells me that there are men in foreign countries whose whole work in -life consists in playing the violin. You understand, of course, that -first of all they must learn to master it thoroughly. They are taught at -schools, or by private teachers. Would you care to do the same—to learn -to play properly—rules and notes and everything?” - -“That means—going abroad?” - -Ormarr’s voice trembled, and he turned a little pale. The golden bird of -fortune and adventure flashed into the vision of his mind. - -“Yes. I spoke to Sera Daniel about teaching you English as well as -Danish. While you are in Copenhagen, you might find time to study other -languages, without neglecting your music. Languages are always useful: -if you become a great artist, you may have to travel in many countries, -play your violin everywhere. Anyhow, you shall have the chance. Perhaps -your liking for it may not last, or you may find you have not talent -enough. If so, you can come back to Iceland again—to Borg if you care -to. What do you think—would you like to try?” - -“Yes, father—if you will let me. It would be wonderful.” - -“I pray God I may be allowed to live a few years more. If you come back -here, you will still have your birthright to the estate. But if you -prefer to give up your claim, I will see that your brother is brought up -to take over the place himself. The next few years will show what is -best.” - - * * * * * - -Ormarr could not sleep that night. He lay weaving dreams about his -future. - -To him, it all appeared one bright, sunny vision. He pictured life as -one grand triumphal procession. He knew that the country he was going to -abounded in forests of bright-hued beech and dark pine woods; with -lovely orchards, where ripe fruit hung on the trees ready for one to -pick and eat. He had read of Danish gardens, where roses and lilac -filled the air with their scent. - -He counted the days now till he should be able to look with his own eyes -on palaces he had known hitherto only from pictures in books—real -palaces of kings! They would be no longer castles in the air to him, but -real; grand piles of solid stone and mortar. He could walk through their -halls, breathe the air of bygone centuries that hung there still; could -touch with his hands the very walls that had stood there for hundreds of -years. - -He painted for himself a future like that of one of the old Icelandic -bards. He would play to kings and nobles. There was a lust of travel in -his blood, of wandering through life by the royal road of glory and -fame. It was almost painful to remember that he had ever thought of -living all his days at Borg, as his ancestors had done. - -The great world called to him, and every fibre in him answered to the -call. He knew that there, where he was going, were wonderful machines -contrived to do the work of men. He had never been able to think of such -machines as really inanimate things; he longed to see with his own eyes -the arms, hands, and fingers they must surely possess. Yet, at the same -time, the thought of it made his flesh creep. - -Think—to fill a room with light by the mere turning of a switch! And to -talk with people through a wire—which he imagined as hollow. And there -were places where conjurers worked miracles, and acrobats performed -impossible feats; clowns jested and played tricks.... And gardens filled -with cages of strange beasts from countries even farther off.... - -All these and many other things which he had read of, and grown to -consider as accessible only to a favoured few, were now to be part of -his own surroundings in his daily life. He would live in a city with -streets like deep chasms between unscalable cliffs—cave-hollowed cliffs -peopled with human beings, instead of giants and goblins. He would go to -theatres, where actors seemed to kill one another, and thunder, -lightning, and snow could be brought into play within four walls. He -would travel endless miles in machine-driven cars that raced along over -rails of steel.... - -Ormarr lay in his dark room, his eyes wide open, letting his fancy paint -all manner of visions in the richest colours. His mind was overwhelmed -by a turmoil of new sensations. - -He tried to recall, one after another, all the pictures he had seen of -things in foreign lands; even to portraits of celebrities, of jockeys -galloping over turf, and sordid lithographs with impossible figures in -ridiculous postures, such as he had seen stuck up in the local stores. - -A fever of anticipation burned in his veins. And when at last, towards -morning, he dropped off into a broken sleep, he was still surrounded by -a crowd of the impressions he had conjured up while awake. They vexed -him now; he found himself being thrown from cars that raced away from -him at full speed, losing his way in gloomy streets and labyrinthine -passages, being snatched up by the steel arms of strange machines and -crushed to pieces; standing with one end of a wire between his teeth and -vainly trying to speak to a famous man at the other end; he switched on -a light and set the house on fire, and was only saved from being burned -to death by waking to find the sun shining full in his face. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -When a youth is thrown from the realm of fancy and solitude into a world -of realities, one of two things takes place: either a process of -reaction sets in, and he fortifies his soul in some faith or tradition; -or he clutches greedily at life, becomes intoxicated by it, and loses -his foothold. Whatever happens to him depends less upon strength of -character than upon chance. - -In Ormarr’s case, reality fell short of his expectation in some -respects, and in others exceeded it. He felt, also, as if he were born -anew, entering upon an existence based on new principles. - -With all that he had looked forward to most keenly he was frankly -disappointed. On the other hand, he found an order of things, of people -and their actions, so alien to his own mind and development that he felt -himself an outsider, uncultured and inferior. It seemed to him then, -that the only possible way to make up for lost time was to fling himself -headlong into this human maelstrom and swim for dear life. And before he -was himself aware of it, he was floating with the tide. He soon proved -to have all the requisite qualifications for drifting so on the waters -of life; he had means enough, and withal a pleasant manner, with a -certain air of distinction, gay and yet self-possessed.... - -It did not occur to him to consider whither he was drifting; there was -no time to think. That he saw no land ahead or to either side did not -trouble him in the least. Life was pleasant enough—and since its -essential aim seemed to be that of making it pleasant, why trouble one’s -head about anything? - -Fortunately, there was always one plank at hand to which he could turn -for safety in case of need—unless he wilfully thrust it from him. And as -this resource in itself possessed an extreme fascination for him—the -chance of becoming a great artist, a world-famed master—Ormarr never -quite lost touch of it, though he found it at times somewhat burdensome, -a check upon his natural movements towards pleasure and enjoyment. - -His consistency in this respect was largely due to the personality of -his teacher, Abel Grahl, who had taken a kind and fatherly interest in -the boy from their first meeting. On the day after his arrival at -Copenhagen, Ormarr set out from his hotel at a very early hour, and went -in search of Grahl. Sera Daniel had instructed him to seek out this man -and not rest until he had persuaded him to become his teacher. - -“Your career may depend upon it,” were the priest’s parting words. - -Abel Grahl was an elderly man, and life had used him hardly. At twenty, -he had stood on the threshold of fame: his first appearance as a -violinist, in London, had created an unusual stir. Offers of engagements -came to him in plenty, but the day before he was to start on a tour, -embracing the principal cities of the world, he had managed to hurt his -finger slightly while out boating with some friends. Blood-poisoning set -in, and the finger had to be amputated. Then for three years he was lost -to the world; his friends and relations believed him dead. Suddenly he -reappeared in his native town of Copenhagen, a silent, retiring man; no -one ever learned where or how he had spent the intervening years. Even -his intimates refrained from asking, partly out of regard for his grief, -partly for fear of reopening some trouble not yet healed. He made his -living as a teacher of music especially with the violin; but his pupils -were few, since he mercilessly rejected all save those who showed -unusual promise. - -He lived a solitary life, in a suite of rooms badly in need of repair. -The landlord had given him permission to remove the inner partitions, -and turn the whole place into one big studio; the kitchen he used as a -bedroom. - -Grahl was not in the best of tempers on being awakened at six in the -morning by a continued and vigorous ringing at the bell. But at the -sight of his visitor, a lad in ill-fitting homespun clothes, with a -calfskin bag tucked under his arm (Grahl at once divined that it -contained a violin), he found some difficulty in keeping his -countenance. He looked at the boy with a faint, good-humoured smile. - -Ormarr endeavoured to explain, in very imperfect Danish, the object of -his visit. - -The old man burst out laughing. Then, noticing the boy’s confusion, he -asked him in, and patted him encouragingly on the shoulder. - -“Do you mean to say you have come all the way from Iceland to learn the -violin? What did you say your name was?” - -“Ormarr, son of Ørlygur à Borg.” - -“I see, Ormarr à Borg, then.” - -“Yes, Ormarr Ørlygsson.” - -“Ormarr Ørlygsson. And how did you manage to find me?” - -“It was quite easy. I had the address written on a paper, and asked the -way.” - -“Yes, yes—but I mean, who told you to come to me?” - -“Sera Daniel—the priest. I was to come to you and get you to teach -me—you and no other. He said my career might depend upon it. And he said -if you refused, if you sent me away once or twice or more, I was to try -again.” - -“H’m. Seems clear enough. And you look as if you were the sort to do it. -Well, let me hear what you can do with that instrument of yours.” - -Ormarr took out his violin. He was visibly nervous, and it took him some -time to tune up. - -Abel Grahl could not help remarking to himself that the boy seemed -awkward—and perhaps he did not even know his notes. Anyhow, he refrained -for the moment from further questioning. - -At last Ormarr ran his bow across the strings, put down his bow and -violin, took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. - -Grahl watched him, making no sign. He was rather surprised to find -himself really interested, and waited impatiently for the boy to begin. - -As Ormarr took up his instrument again, the old man asked: - -“How old did you say you were?” - -Ormarr hesitated. “Fifteen,” he said at length. - -Grahl shook his head in despair. Then he checked himself. - -“Well, well, we shall see. Go on now, if you are ready.” - -Ormarr began to play, without watching the other’s face. He did not see -how the man’s expression changed from mere resignation to intense -feeling, that drove all the blood from his face. Now and again he -frowned, and started slightly, but repressed himself, and left Ormarr to -finish at his will. - -Ormarr played for ten minutes. At the last stroke of the bow, Grahl -leapt to his feet. - -“Who wrote that?” - -“It’s—it’s only about a sunset.” - -“Yes, yes, but where did you get hold of it—the tune?” - -“I made it up myself.” - -Grahl stared at him, but the boy never flinched. No, those eyes could -not lie! - -“What else can you play?” - -“There’s all the songs they used to sing at home. And the hymns from -church.” - -“Can you play at sight?” - -Ormarr shook his head doubtfully. - -“I mean, do you know the written notes?” - -“No; I was never taught.” Ormarr felt crushed at the confession. - -For fully a quarter of an hour he was kept in suspense; it was like -waiting for the summons to execution. - -Abel Grahl walked up and down. Now and again he stopped full in front of -the boy, scrutinizing him from head to foot. Then he shook his head as -if in dismissal, turned away abruptly, and stood for a while at the -window, whistling softly to himself; came back and stared at Ormarr once -more, looking hard into the dark, glowing eyes that seemed to have grown -dim. Who could say how much it might mean to this lad if he sent him -away? He felt, too, that those eyes could express something more than -despair. - -He felt himself drawn toward this child of nature who had been flung at -him, at it were, like a ball, from hundreds of miles away—if he did not -take it but threw it back, would it land safely, or would it be lost in -the sea? - -At last he spoke, though he had not yet made up his mind. - -“It is a difficult thing to study—and it means years of work. Also, it -will cost a great deal of money. Where are you to get that from?” - -“From my father.” - -“And what is your father?” - -“A farmer.” - -“Is he rich?” - -“Yes.” - -“What is he worth, about?” - -“He owns all Borg, and....” - -“I mean, how many thousand...?” - -“Three thousand.” - -“Three thousand—is that all?” - -“Yes. No one in Iceland has more than three thousand sheep. He has more -than any one else there.” - -“Sheep—I see. A biggish place, then. Many horses?” - -“I don’t know how many exactly. There are many—_stodhross_.” - -“_Stodhross_—what’s that?” - -“Horses that live out on the hills. But we’ve a hundred and twenty at -home, on the place.” - -“The devil you have. And how many cows?” - -“About a hundred most times.” - -“Do you know any one here in Copenhagen?” - -“No. But the priest, he gave me a letter to a man I was to ask to keep -my money for me, if you did not care to be troubled with it.” - -“Have you much with you now?” - -“I have a thousand Kroner in my pocket-book, and a few small notes in my -purse.” - -“H’m. I suppose you can look after your money all right yourself?” - -“Oh yes, I have it....” He thrust a hand into his pocket. - -“No—I must have left it under my pillow.” - -“Under your pillow—where?” - -“At the place where I slept.” - -“What on earth—Here, we must go along at once. Put on your coat—no, -never mind the violin. Where are you staying? What street?” - -“I don’t know what street it is.” - -“But good heavens, child—the name of the hotel, then?” - -“Hotel H——, it is called. Sera Daniel told me to go there the first -night.” - -They reached the street, and Grahl hurried on ahead to where some cabs -were standing. Hailing one, he gave the address, hurried the boy in, and -followed himself. - -In the vestibule of the hotel they were met by the porter, who advanced -with a discreet smile, and handed a pocket-book to Ormarr. - -“You don’t seem to care much for your money, sir. The maid found this -little sum under your pillow.” - -The little episode was not perhaps, in itself, the decisive factor in -establishing the ultimate relationship between Ormarr and Grahl. But it -certainly did much to link them closer, and from that time forth, Grahl -assisted the young Icelander in many other ways, apart from merely -teaching him the violin. - -Ormarr succeeded from the first in winning the old man’s affection, and -making him interested in his career. He was a constant source of -surprise to his teacher. First and foremost, there was his sudden -transformation from chrysalis to butterfly—from a peasant lad to a -man-about-town. - -And Ormarr caused his teacher grave anxiety during those years. But he -never betrayed the confidence the old man had shown at first. And in -point of musical development he surpassed all that Grahl had ever hoped -for. - -By the tenth winter, Grahl considered his pupil as perfect at least as -he himself had been when he had first appeared in public. All that was -needed now was to introduce him to an audience. The day for his début -was fixed, and the large room at the Concert Hall engaged. - -For some time past, whispers had been current in musical circles about -Abel Grahl’s wonderful pupil. All were eager to hear him, and every seat -in the big hall was taken far in advance. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr had rooms on the outskirts of the town, looking out over the -Sound. In course of time, he had managed to get the apartments furnished -to his taste. The walls were hung with rugs, an enormous divan occupied -the centre of the room, a few small tables stood about here and there, -and the four big chairs were packed with cushions. The divan served as a -bed at night; in the daytime it was covered with a splendid Persian rug. -Black, white, and brown sheepskins were spread on the floor, and in -front of the divan was flung the pelt of a huge white bear. - -Not a single picture was to be seen. But on the walls, hidden behind the -hangings, Ormarr had placed large reproductions of well-known portraits -of great composers. And when playing, he would uncover the picture of -that particular master with whose work he was occupied for the moment. - -On the day before his first concert, Ormarr was resting, fully dressed, -on the divan. He was smoking; a bottle of wine and a glass stood within -reach on a small table. - -He had been out for his usual morning walk. But for the last three hours -he had not moved. It was now drawing towards twilight. His glance moved -idly from one window to the other, following the race of clouds against -the background of a dull blue sky. - -There was a knock at the door. Languidly Ormarr rose to open. He -recognized the voice of his friend, Aage Blad. - -Save for Grahl, Ormarr’s only intimate friend was the young poet, Aage -Blad; the two were constant companions. Blad’s earnest love of life had -endeared him to Ormarr, and though the latter, true to his adopted rôle -of insincerity, often made fun of his friend’s seriousness, the poet had -soon realized that it was not meant, and as a rule paid no heed to it. -But if ever he found that he had gone too far, Ormarr always relapsed -into silence, and his friend understood that this was his way of asking -forgiveness. - -Blad glanced at Ormarr’s face as he entered, and gathered at once that -his friend was not in the best of spirits. He shook hands in silence. - -Ormarr flung himself down on the divan once more, leaving his visitor to -make himself at home. Blad moved up a chair, and the two friends smoked -in silence for a while, watching each other. - -“Nervous?” queried Blad at last. - -“Wish I were!” - -“Curious thing to wish. Thank your stars you’re as cool about it as you -are. Anything wrong?” - -“Oh, everything.” - -“Oh, that’s no trifle, anyway.” - -Silence. - -“I tell you what, Ormarr, I shan’t feel comfortable myself until this -concert’s over. Honestly, I’m getting quite feverish about it. I’ve -never been so excited about one of my own things coming out—not even my -first book.” - -“No need for you to get excited that I can see.” - -“No need at all—you’re right, of course. It’s bound to go off all -right.” - -“On the contrary—there’s everything to be anxious about. -Everything—everything. Oh, well, hang it all—have another drink.” - -Ormarr threw himself back and closed his eyes. - -Aage Blad sat watching him; there was a dull, resigned expression about -the corners of the mouth; the forehead was already deeply lined. There -was strength as well as weakness in the face, he thought. “A strange -fellow,” he told himself. - -They smoked in silence for a while. Then, without opening his eyes, -Ormarr said: - -“It is a long time since I saw my home. Funny thing, not feeling -home-sick all these years. Can’t understand it just now. I never longed -for home till this winter. As soon as the summer comes I must go back. -Like to come too?” - -“H’m—I don’t know. Iceland—the very name of it makes me shiver. Anyhow, -you’ll have to redeem that fur coat you gave me—extravagant person that -you are.” - -“But it’s not so cold at home. Not in the summer, at any rate. The -coldest thing about Iceland is its name. And the nights there—so -wonderfully calm and light they are in spring.... It’s a long time to -wait till the spring. I wish I were back home again now. I’ve never seen -a sky so blue and deep as there. Before I came to Denmark I had an idea -that in a flat country one would see more of the sky than at home, with -all the mountains and their shadows. But then the mountains are so far -away. And once you get there ... Aage, I would give all the forests in -the world, all the orchards and cornfields and flower gardens, for a -single mountain. But a real one, mind you, with huge rocky ridges, and -green plateaus, and snow at the top. Good heavens, man, to think that I -have one all to myself—yes, I own a mountain. I never thought of it -before. Can you understand how I ever could stay away from it all so -long? But I’m going back now—going home.” - -“There’s the concert first, don’t forget—tomorrow. And you’re going to -be famous.” - -“Tomorrow ... yes....” - -Ormarr had sat up, resting on his elbow, while he spoke of his home. -Now, he threw himself back once more, as if exhausted, and lay with -closed eyes as before. For a few moments neither spoke. - -“Aage,” said Ormarr at last, “I feel tired—deadly tired. I’ve been -idling here all day. Tomorrow? I feel as if tomorrow were already a -thing of the past.” - -He got up, filled his glass and that of his friend. - -“Drink! Aage, I’ve something to tell you. Just let me go on talking, and -don’t bother about it, I only want to get it out. What do you think I’ve -been seeing all the time, lying here with my eyes shut? This is no life -for me. I have been counting. It is my tenth winter here now. Ten years, -man—think! And today it seemed as if I had come yesterday. I have been -asleep—fast asleep. But it can’t go on. There’s something hurting me, a -sort of longing——Oh, I know it sounds all nonsense, but you needn’t -worry about that.... No, this won’t do. I don’t go on drinking and -enjoying life in this wasteful, silly fashion—and forgetting. I wasn’t -made to live like that. I was made to think, and to work. And now here -have I been living for ten years—yes, and working hard, I know—but all -for nothing. It means nothing at all, really. Famous? If I found myself -famous after tomorrow, I should be no better off than I am now. I’ve no -ambition of that sort any longer—not a scrap. I never realized it -before—it’s only just lately I’ve seen it. And think of dear old Abel -Grahl! Do you know, honestly, I believe he’s jealous—the dear old boy! -He’s fond of me, I know; and now that I’m on the eve of my ‘conquest,’ -as he always says, he thinks of the time when he made his conquest—and -fate overtook him after. I’m sadly afraid that old trouble’s cropped up -again now with him. And after all, what is there to envy, anyway? What -sort of a future if I do succeed? The life of a flunkey—a menial in gold -lace, playing for money—and to whom? I’ve been studying my -fellow-creatures this winter—musical people—my audience-to-be. -Copenhagen’s not the world I know; but human beings are much the same -everywhere, I take it, though their looks and manners may differ -somewhat in detail. Grahl has been taking me about. He hates ‘society,’ -I know, but he took it all up again for my sake—that’s the sort of man -he is. It all helps, he says. Oh, and you should have heard their talk, -their hard-and-fast opinions, and the views of the professional critics. -Sometimes I feel I simply can’t go on living. Simply can’t stand it. -What wretched caricatures we all are—myself included. No I’ve finished -with this sort of life. There’s not a thing in the world I care for now, -except to go back home. If only I could be sure _that_ was a genuine -feeling, and not another delusion. Don’t look down on me, old man—Heaven -knows, I’ve no great thoughts about myself just now. You know me well -enough to see that I’m not drunk. But I feel—oh, just worthless. All -these years—and living like this—it’s too contemptible. I feel as if I -hadn’t an atom of will-power left. Just sick and tired of everything ... -and longing, aching for something.... Good of you to listen so -patiently. Have a drink.” - -Blad was silent for some time, and when at last he spoke it was in a low -voice. - -“There’s something I should like to say to you,” he said quietly. “And -I’m half afraid to begin. I’ve been thinking a lot, and some of it I -mustn’t say at all. But I will say this: When we have been together -anywhere—out in the country, or on the sea, or in the town—anywhere, I -always had a feeling that we lived as it were on different levels, you -and I. To me, you were always the born leader; I felt if you took it -into your head to order me about, I should have to obey. Things seemed -somehow to belong to you. Then at other times, I could feel as if you -were a distinguished visitor—one can’t help these stray thoughts, you -know—as if Nature herself put on her best and did all she could to -please you—while I was just an ordinary person, not worth making a fuss -about. I belonged to her, as one of her children, and could stray about -unnoticed among the trees like any other creature in the forest; it -never came into my head to look on her in that gay lordly way of yours. -And sometimes it seemed you were the better off; sometimes that it was -better to be as I was. It’s all only fancies, of course, but still it -does prove one thing: that we are utterly different. I am quite content -to live an ordinary uneventful life; as long as I can ramble about in -Nature’s garden and cultivate the modest growths of my art, it is enough -for me. I don’t care for anything that calls for greater energy than I -generally give, whether it be the way of pleasure, or pain, or work. -I’ve no ambition worth mentioning. I can sit in my garden, and enjoy the -scent of the flowers, or go out in a boat, and watch the sunlight on the -water; walk in the woods in spring and see the delicate green of the -beech leaves against the sky—I am happy enough with such things. There -are heaps of little trifling things of that sort that please me every -day. But it’s all different with you. It may sound theatrical, perhaps, -but it’s as if you had mountains—glaciers and volcanoes—in your soul. -And I shouldn’t care to change with you—it’s all too big for me. But -then again, if you were like me, I shouldn’t care about you. You must -live and act in a different way; I see that. You could stand suffering -better than I; I’m sure of that. But I’m not quite sure that you have -the power of being really happy. Anyhow—well, you know I’m your friend, -and always will be.” - -“I know that, Blad.” - -Ormarr got up, switched on the light, looked through a bundle of -newspapers and found the one he was looking for. Nervously he turned the -pages till he came to the shipping intelligence. - -“There is a boat leaving the day after tomorrow.” - -He dropped the paper, walked up and down the room several times, shaking -his head defiantly, as if at his own thoughts, then threw himself down -in a chair. A moment later he glanced at his watch, and rose -reluctantly. - -“It’s time I went round now—to Grahl. The final rehearsal....” - - * * * * * - -In the big room where, ten years before, a curious figure of a boy in -ill-fitting clothes had called on him for the first time, Abel Grahl sat -at the piano accompanying the later stage of that same youth—now a -slender, pale-faced young man. They were playing a nocturne—the only one -of Ormarr’s own compositions on the morrow’s program. The theme was that -same one of the sunset with which Ormarr had introduced himself to his -master, only the technique was different. - -Ormarr looked out through the window as he played, seeing nothing in -particular. As long as he held his violin, his soul lived only in the -magic world of melody that flowed from the strings. - -Grahl’s accompaniment was strangely absent and mechanical. His figure -was bowed at the shoulders, and the black coat he wore accentuated his -thinness. He had aged much of late, and looked haggard and worn. Now and -again he turned his head towards his pupil with a searching glance. - -When they had been through the whole of the programme, Grahl remained -seated at the instrument, striking one chord repeatedly, his eyes fixed -on nothing. The corners of his mouth dropped in a bitter smile. Then, -turning to Ormarr, he said in a queer, strained voice: - -“Play that Andante once more, will you? Not that you need it—it couldn’t -be better. Just play it for me.” - -And Ormarr played. - -When he had finished, Grahl spoke, without looking up, as to himself: - -“That was one of the things I played at my first concert. I did not play -it as well as you—no, not half so well. I doubt if Beethoven himself -ever played it better!” - -For a while he sat with bowed head. Then raising himself suddenly, he -ran his fingers over the keyboard, and the gay tones of the “Valse -d’Espagne” danced like demons out upon the silence that had followed -Beethoven’s Andante. - -Ormarr, who had been standing deep in thought, looked round with a -start; Grahl rose from the music-stool with a harsh laugh. - -“A fancy of mine,” he said shortly, “to let Waldteufel loose on the -heels of Beethoven.” - -He went across to the table, lit a cigar, and slipped into an -easy-chair. - -Ormarr followed his movements intently. There was a strange expression -in his eyes, and the lines on his forehead and face seemed deeper than -usual. - -Grahl paid no heed to him; he was smoking, and evidently occupied with -his own reflections. When Ormarr moved, he looked up, and pointed to a -chair. - -“Sit down, Ormarr; not time to go home yet. Take a cigar.” - -“Thanks.” - -Ormarr took a cigar and lit it, covertly watching the expression of the -old man’s face. - -“Sit there, Ormarr, where I can see you; that’s it. I was thinking, -there’s not much left of the peasant lad who came up here that morning -ten years ago. The eyes are the same, yes; and a look about the -face—I’ve noticed it the last few days.... Anyhow, it was as well I -didn’t send you away that day after all.” - -Ormarr felt his cheeks flush, and bent forward in his chair. - -“My dear Grahl, I feel myself a man now in most things, but there’s one -thing that has stuck to me since I was a child. I never could thank any -one in words. And I don’t know how to thank you in any other way.... I’m -sure no father ever did more for his son than you have done for me. I -hardly know how any one could do more for a fellow-creature than you -have.” - -“Oh.... And what is this, if you please, if not thanking me in words?” - -“You know yourself how much I owe you—you know I don’t exaggerate things -as a rule....” - -“There, Ormarr, that’s enough. You must have seen what it meant to me -all along—the joy and delight of teaching you. No more pupils now for -Abel Grahl. You are my last—and my greatest. If I could find one greater -still...? I don’t think I shall live to be roused from my bed a second -time at six in the morning by a lad with his fiddle in a calfskin bag -and the promise of fame in his eyes.” - -Ormarr laughed at the thought. A moment later he was serious once more. -And Grahl went on: - -“You’ll go travelling about the world, giving concerts here, there, and -everywhere. I wish I were strong enough to go with you.” - -Ormarr laughed again, but without heartiness. - -“Grahl, my dear master, why not? Come with me! Nowadays, with trains de -luxe and floating palaces, it will be pleasant as could be. And at least -I should have some one to play for.” - -“I ... to travel ... after all? It’s late in the day ... and not exactly -the way I had once thought....” - -Ormarr sprang to his feet, but sat down again. - -“Grahl, you are my friend—the best I have, I think. I must tell you -something now—something that has happened to me. Listen: I do not care -about the concert tomorrow—it means nothing. Fame is nothing to me now. -To tell the truth, I shudder at the thought of going about playing for -people I do not know, and should not care to know. Strangers—foreigners! -It makes me a piece of common property; one of the artistic wonders of -the world. And then to see my name, my portrait, on huge posters -everywhere ... read interviews with myself, criticisms of my art—Grahl, -the thought of it sickens me. I won’t—I can’t—oh, if only I could get -out of it now, before....” - -“Why, boy ... Ormarr, my dear lad, what is this? what has come over you? -Surely you do not—you could not think of throwing everything away -now—burning your ships? Ten years of hard work—yours and mine.... If -there were any risk, I could understand perhaps your being afraid ... -but as it is ... you have only to show yourself—one first appearance, -and the thing is done. No, Ormarr, you could not draw back now. It would -be madness—nothing else.” - -“That may be. But none the less, that is how I feel. I have lost all -desire to show myself, to appear in public. I do not care for any -‘conquest.’ I could do it, I know. But that means that in reality I have -already conquered. It is satisfaction enough to me; I need not show -myself on a platform to utter strangers who have paid so much for the -right to hear me play this or that. Every item on the programme as a -right—and extras in return for their applause. No—if you cared, I should -not mind playing to you every day, for hours together—to you alone. Or -to any others that I cared about. Come back with me to Iceland. I will -look after you, be a son to you, take care of you, in every way. But -spare me this; release me from the burden of that concert and all that -should come after it.” - -“Ormarr—you must be out of your senses.” - -“Whether or no, I am what I am. And I can’t be otherwise. I am furious -with myself too; blind fool that I have been—oh, you don’t know what I -feel at this moment.” - -Ormarr noticed that Grahl was feeling for his watch. - -“Don’t,” he put in hastily. “I don’t want to see any one tonight. I -can’t stand it. I don’t know what may happen....” - -Abel Grahl rose from his seat. When he spoke, his voice was calm and -earnest. - -“Ormarr, remember I stand to you in a father’s stead. You cannot get -away from this. Where is my son, who had grown to be a man of the world? -We had grown out of stage fright, nerves and all that nonsense, surely? -Tomorrow is our concert. We must not forget it, we must be there in -time. But beyond that, we need not give the matter a thought. -There—that’s the way to look at it. Don’t forget.” - -Ormarr paled slightly. - -“Very well—have it your own way.” - -A car was heard hooting outside, and they went out. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr stood on the platform of the Concert Hall, playing the Andante -from Beethoven’s Sonata. This was the third item on the programme. The -first had been a show piece, from Tchaikowsky, which had given him an -opportunity of displaying his extraordinary skill and masterly -technique. After the second, his own nocturne, it seemed as if the -applause would never end. The audience was delirious. The atmosphere of -the nocturne, with its melancholy depths and wild heights of joy, its -bewildering beauty and strange transitions, moved the dense crowd as if -by magic. - -The appearance of the young artist had fascinated his listeners from the -outset. Despite the air of superiority and composure, there was nothing -of arrogance in his bearing. At the first entry of this young man, with -the pale, lean face and the half-closed eyes that yet seemed to see -everything, and see through every one, the audience felt the magnetism -of an extraordinary personality. - -Success was certain, inevitable. From the very first, the audience had -surrendered unconditionally. - -As he stood there playing, Ormarr appeared quite calm and collected. Not -the slightest tremor of the body, no trace of expression on his smooth -face, betrayed the struggle raging within. But Ormarr himself knew that -it was merely a question of time; up to a certain point he might control -himself—after that, the deluge. - -Two men there were, however, among those in the hall, who suspected -something of the strain it cost him to keep his rebellious temperament -in check: they knew that his apparent calm was but a mask. The two were -Blad and Abel Grahl, sitting together in the front row. - -The serene progress of the Andante was undisturbed by any sound from -those in front. Ormarr felt as if his listeners were turned to stone, -and his playing was caressing them like a gentle breeze. - -Then suddenly there came over him an irresistible desire to jerk them -back to life—to startle them, set them fluttering and cackling like a -pack of frightened fowls. To tear at their sense, to render their -innermost souls, to fling at them, like a fiery volcanic eruption, -something unexpected and terrible—something unheard of. - -In a fraction of a second it had come. A bursting of all bonds that -chained his ungovernable mind: reason, duty, ambition, the fear of -consequences. It was as if in a moment he flung from him the prejudices -and traditions in which men are wont to dress, and stood there before -them in primeval nakedness. - -He saw Grahl trying to rise: trying to prevent something he knew was -coming.... - -And half unconsciously, as if it had been the most natural thing in the -world, he plunged blasphemously from Beethoven’s Andante into -Waldteufel’s “Valse d’Espagne.” - -Ormarr was cool and calm as ever, but pale as a ghost. The music raced -away madly into the waltz, laughing and crying in complete abandon. - -A feeling of something uncanny seized the audience for a second; as if -icy waters had overwhelmed them in flood, depriving them of movement, -suffocating all cries for help. - -Grahl rose to his feet, and opened his mouth as if to cry aloud. Then he -fell back in his chair, without a sound. - -Suddenly Ormarr stopped playing; his arms fell to his sides, and he -stood on the platform laughing—a tremulous, uneasy laugh. Then he turned -and fled. - -A storm of shouts and noise rose up from the audience. The silence of -enraptured listeners had given place to the confusion of a disturbed -ant-hill. Some questioned, others raged, a few broke down entirely. - -“Scandalous!” “Mad!” sounded through the din. Several minutes passed -before any thought of leaving. Then suddenly the word “dead” began to -circulate. And gradually the crowd grew quiet, and dispersed, moved to -forgiveness by the thought that the madman had ceased to live. Only a -few were aware that it was not the player who was dead. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr reached home and let himself in—not until then did he notice that -he had walked all the way without hat or overcoat, still carrying his -violin. - -After all, what did it matter? His mind was in a state of utter -indifference to everything; completely numbed. - -His shoes were muddy, his dress coat wet through; he raised his hand to -his forehead and wiped the rain from his face. - -His throat was parched; he felt nervous and ill. He fumbled about for -whisky and a syphon, drained one glass at a draught and poured out -another. Then, drenched and dirty as he was, he threw himself down on -the divan, without a thought of changing his wet things. - -The blood throbbed in his temples; there was not a clear thought in his -mind. When he shut his eyes, he felt as if a wheel were tearing round at -a furious rate inside his head. - -The door bell rang—it was Blad. - -“Grahl is dead!” - -Blad threw down Ormarr’s hat and coat, which he had been carrying; he -himself was out of breath, and overpowered with emotion. - -“Grahl—dead?” Ormarr sat bowed forward, his hands clasped, his eyes -staring vacantly before him. Blad stood watching him for a moment. Then -he burst out: - -“You—you must be mad!” - -“I suppose so—yes.” - -“And—you don’t care in the least?” - -Ormarr made no reply. - -“Think of the scandal of it all!” - -Still Ormarr said nothing. - -“And then—Grahl! That ought never to have happened.” - -“I suppose not.” - -“Do you mean to say it is all nothing to you—that you have ruined your -own career for ever, and killed Grahl—your friend—your teacher? After -that—oh, but you must be insane, there’s no other word for it.” - -“Very well, then.” - -“Were you drunk?” - -“Drunk? No, I wasn’t drunk. But do let’s talk of something else. It’s no -good discussing this any more. It’s done, and can’t be undone. I am -going back home—to Iceland. There’s a boat leaving tomorrow. Take off -your coat, won’t you—you’re going to stay now? Mix yourself a drink, -man, do.” - -“No, thank you.” Blad spoke coldly, flinging out his words, and pacing -the floor excitedly. - -“Have I hurt you too? I can’t think how I could have done that. Surely -you can’t feel hurt at my being what I am, and doing what I can’t help -doing? I asked you to stay just now, because I thought you were my -friend. If you are no longer my friend, then you had better go.” - -“Really, I almost fancy you would like to turn me out now because I -decline to drink with you to Grahl’s happy decease. By Heaven, you do -not deserve that I should stay.” - -“Oh, you damned fool—who’s talking about what I deserve!” - -Blad stopped suddenly, as if paralysed by the word. Then in a voice -heavy with emotion, he said: - -“Ormarr—that was the first ugly word I have ever heard you use. And it -was said to me—to me!” - -“To you—yes. But you made me angry, you know. Up to then, I was only -miserable—and so hopelessly tired. And here you are reproaching me for -things I could not help. And really, you know, when you are so utterly -foolish as to measure me by your standards, I can’t call you anything -else. I don’t repent what I did tonight. How can a man repent things -that _happen_—things over which he had no control whatever? But I do -repent—or at least, I am sorry—for what happened before—for what brought -it all about. Grahl was my friend and benefactor—and yet I cannot feel -any grief at his death. I simply can’t think at all at the present -moment; haven’t a single atom of emotion in me. I’m just a wilderness. -Oh, if you knew what I am suffering now—death would be welcome; a -relief. There’s just one thing that grows and grows in me now—the need -to go back, to go home.” - -“And your father—what will he say, do you think?” - -“My father? I don’t know. I wonder what he will say. It will be a big -disappointment to him, this. How could I ever have done it? I don’t -understand myself now—it all seems so ridiculous; to lose control of -oneself like that.” - -Blad started. - -“Then—then you didn’t do it on purpose?” - -“Good heavens, no! Did you—could you think that of me? I suppose you -fancied it was a new sort of advertising trick—well, why not?” - -“Ormarr—forgive me. But you were so cool about it all—I never -thought....” - -“All right, never mind. We won’t worry about it any more. I’m dead -tired. Stay here tonight, won’t you? I’m not going to bed; no good -trying to sleep. Stay and see me off; the boat goes at nine. Thanks, -that’s good of you. Get some sleep, if you can, yourself. There’s a lot -of things I’ll want you to do for me while I’m away. Send me—no ... no, -I won’t have any of these things here. You can take them over—keep what -you care about and sell the rest. I want to forget these years—as far as -I can. Though I’ve learned much in the time—and paid dearly for it. Now -I am going home—going home to Iceland, and then ... what next, I -wonder?” - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -It was a bright wintry day when Ormarr, watching from the captain’s -bridge, saw his native land rise snow-clad from the blue-green sea -against a high, clear sky. The captain noticed that the fur-clad man who -had been up on the bridge since early that morning to get the first -glimpse of land, seemed strangely moved at the sight of it. Well, it was -none of his business.... - -Never before had Ormarr seen Iceland rising thus out of the sea; he had -but a dim notion of the grandeur of the sight. Unconsciously, he had -always thought of Iceland in the green of spring or summer, and had -looked forward to seeing it so on his return. Being winter, of course, -there would be snow. But he had never thought to see it all so white and -clean and brilliant as now. - -A vague joy filled him as he looked; he felt that his soul was come of -the race of those great mountains, as of a line of kings. - -Iceland—his country! Like a cathedral, a consecrated pile of granite, -pure and holy in the seas of the far north. And the snow—how he loved -it! And the rocks, the hills and valleys ... the brooks and streams, -sleeping their winter sleep now, under the ice. And fire too, the -marvellous, merciless fire, smouldering quietly in its lava bed, yet -strong enough to melt the ice of a hundred years in less than a minute -and hurl it in huge floods of boiling water and redhot rocks and lava -down the mountain-side, through the valleys, out into the sea. What did -it care for men, or their goods or their lives! All had to die. And -better to die by fire or ice than on a bed of sickness. Far better to -die young in some mighty upheaval than to drag palsied bones through a -dreary wilderness of old age. - -Ormarr smoothed his brow. - -Why think of dying now? He was still young, and fit for action. Yet if -Mother Iceland should think fit to crush him to his death in her -embrace, well, he was ready. Well for him, perhaps, to find death on her -icebound, fiery heart, if the road of life proved too wearisome. - -Strange thoughts—was he mad, after all? He was thinking now as he had -done so often when a child. But his dreams had changed. Then, Iceland -had been the starting-point of his imaginings; it had been as a weight -at his heel, keeping him in bondage, holding him back from all that he -thought made life worth living. Now it was changed—now all his dreams -turned towards it, centred round it—Iceland now was his home. Home? No, -he had no home anywhere on earth. Yet he felt drawn towards it none the -less; longing for his country.... - -But what was this—Iceland—hovering above him, looking down at him—would -she no longer receive him? Was he her child no more? Had the world worn -away the marks by which his mother had known him? - -Foolishness—his brain was running wild. And yet—how was it with him, -after all? Was it not true that he was unworthy of love—a failure, -self-condemned? - -Iceland, towering in shining armour, in glittering floes and spotless -mantle of snow. And one coming to her from the outer world, with the -dirt of alien countries on his feet, and the pain and weariness of the -world in his heart. Her sacred places were no longer open to him now; -closed, locked; the keys hidden far away, not there. Perhaps in the -place whence he had come, perhaps far distant, on some other continent. -Or hidden, maybe, on the other side of life. - -Iceland! As he watched the land rise from the cold blue waves, he felt -that he, who once had been her child, was no longer worthy to be so. He -had sinned in coming back at all. And he vowed in his heart to set out -once more in quest of the key that might unlock its holy places to him -once more. Whatever happened, he must go away again. And if he could not -find what he sought, then there could be no return. Only let him first -breathe the air here for a little while, tread the soil that had been -his father’s—men who had never shamed their native land. - -Again he smoothed his forehead—the movement had become a habit with him -whenever he wished to check or change a train of thought. And he laughed -harshly. - -“Well, Ormarr Ørlygsson, my friend and brother,” he thought to himself, -“this time you are certainly mad ... mad beyond cure ... caught in the -act—hysteria pure and simple.” - -He sighed deeply—there was an ache at his heart. - -“What is it?” he thought. “If I go on like this ... if I let my thoughts -and fancies play at will like this, I shall end as a lunatic: lose all -control over myself, and be shut up somewhere—a pleasant prospect! Or at -best, be allowed to go about at home in a living death: a beast with -instincts and no soul, on the place I was born to rule. And father—to -see his son an object of pity or contempt.... No: I must get away now, -before something happens. Better perhaps not to land at all, but go on -round the coast, and back with the steamer to Copenhagen. - -“Well, we shall see. Most likely it would be the wisest thing to do. On -the other hand, it would be cruel to father.... - -“Wait and see. Let me at least feel the soil of my own country under my -feet: touch the snow, drink its water, and breathe its air—satisfy -myself that it is not a vision merely, no fairy tale, but a reality.” - -At the first port Ormarr went ashore. He felt happy as a child, and -laughed and joked with the crew. And when the boat neared the pier, he -waved his hand to the crowd there, though he did not know a soul among -them. They shrank back a little at the gay familiarity on the part of a -stranger—but Ormarr did not care. - -He set out on foot to explore the neighbourhood, a poor enough place it -was. It was only with an effort that he restrained himself from walking -up to the windows of the little houses and looking in, or knocking at -the doors, just to breathe the atmosphere of a home in his own country. - -On an open space some boys were racing about playing snowballs. This was -too much for Ormarr; before he knew it, he was in the thick of the -fight, and in a moment he had all the lads on top of him. With shouts -and laughter they pelted him from all sides, and ended by fairly burying -him in the loose snow. - -The boys stood around laughing heartily when at last, gasping for -breath, he emerged; this was a first-rate playmate that had suddenly -appeared from nowhere. Eager queries were hurled at him. - -A tall, freckled peasant lad came up and asked his name, others equally -inquisitive put their questions without giving him time to reply to the -first. Was he from the steamer just come in? Where had he come from? -From Copenhagen? What had he been doing there? Was he going on with the -steamer again? If so, he would have to hurry; the second whistle had -already gone. - -And the whole crowd followed him down to the harbour, two of the smaller -boys taking each a hand. When he gave them some small coin, they decided -that he must be the new Governor at the very least, and felt some -tremors at the disrespectful manner in which they had treated such a -personage. - -As the boat rowed off to the steamer, they stood on the pier waving -their caps, and stayed there, waving and shouting as the vessel moved -off. - -Ormarr felt unspeakably grateful for this welcome from his country—a -welcome of smiles, and snow, and youth; the glowing warmth that was in -its element amid the biting cold. He felt himself akin to these lads, -with their hands and faces warm and wet from perspiration and melting -snow; who rolled about in the snowdrifts despite their clothing, braved -the cold and the roughness of the elements, enjoying themselves in the -depth of an arctic winter as well as in any tropical summer heat. They -had no idea of modern precautions against climate. - -There they stood, waving to him, acknowledging him as one of their own, -never dreaming that he had been about to drift away into an artificial -life that nursed the frailties of the body regardless of health, until -the body became a thing to loathe, unless the soul itself were cynically -hardened. - -This was the moment for action, the time to pull oneself together and -decide; here was the way to follow—follow it! - -But first of all, to find the right way. - -Ormarr felt now that he could go back to his father. Could tell him all, -confess that he had chosen a wrong path, a way whereby his body might -have passed unscathed, but his soul never—it was never meant that the -two should be divided. He must rest and think for a while and find a new -road. - -Once more Ormarr had climbed to the bridge, and remained there till the -steamer touched at the next port. It would be a couple of days before he -could reach home. - -The day wore away, and night came down, but it was still quite light. -The moon was high, right over the land, its white glow hovering over the -landscape and giving it an air of unreality, like a spell that held all -things in the bonds of sleep. The ship itself, chained to a silver beam, -was the captive of this enchanted country, for all that it kept on its -course; sooner or later, it seemed, the time would come when it must -crash on a rocky coast. - -Ormarr turned from the moon, forgetting the base designs which he had -just attributed to its dull red bridge of rays. He looked at the -stars—and suddenly he remembered the summer nights at home, when he had -lain out among the hay in the fields, unable to draw his eyes from the -twinkling golden points of light. - -The northern lights flickered and faded, and showed up anew; like fiery -clouds, appearing suddenly on one horizon, to vanish in a flaming trail -behind another. Ormarr loved them—their restlessness, their capricious, -fantastic shapes, the play of mood through every imaginable shade of -colour—it was a silent musical display of heavenly fire. - - * * * * * - -Next day, the captain and Ormarr were alone on the bridge. Each was -occupied with his own thoughts, and both were gazing towards the shore. - -The captain broke the silence. - -“See there, Hr. Ørlygsson—that ring of mist there round the peak. Now, -mist, I should say, is white as a rule, but looking at it there, against -the snow, it looks just grey.” - -Ormarr made some brief reply; he was studying the face of the little -Danish captain. - -The latter spoke again: - -“I don’t know if you know this part of the country at all. When we round -that point just ahead, you will see one of the strangest fjords all -round the coast, though that’s saying a good deal. Rocks sticking up out -of the sea, sharp as needles some of them, and some all tumbled about in -groups; some look like houses, and there are a few that make gateways, -as it were, real arches, that you can take a ship through if you like.” - -“Then we shall be in very soon, I suppose—and up to time for once.” - -The little Dane drew himself up stiffly, glanced coldly at Ormarr, and -said: - -“Begging your pardon, sir, my ship is always up to time.” - -“Why, then, it is I who must ask your pardon, Captain Jantzen.” - -“Always excepting pack ice and being hung up by a gale,” added the -captain in a milder tone. “Otherwise, I admit you’re right about being -up to time generally—my ship’s an exception, that’s all. I put it -plainly to the owners: either give me a time-table that I can keep to, -or find another skipper. It’s a point of honour with me, as you might -say. As a matter of fact, there was another Iceland boat once came into -port on the day fixed—only it was just a month late.” - -The captain laughed at his own jest, and Ormarr joined in. Then Captain -Jantzen went on: - -“Really, you know, it is a shame that there should be such a wretched -service of steamers in these waters. There are several companies, I -know, but they simply agree that there’s no sense in competition, so -they keep up freights, and run their ships as they please. You may often -have to wait weeks for a boat, and then find the sailing’s cancelled for -some reason or other. Yes, there’s a chance for a man with energy and -capital, that’s certain.” - -Ormarr started at the other’s words; it was as if a mist faded from -before his eyes; here before him was a chance to redeem himself. - -He turned to the captain and looked at him searchingly; a good man, by -the look of him, and with determination in his face. Suddenly he noticed -that the man lacked one finger on his left hand—strange, Abel Grahl too -had lost a finger. The coincidence seemed to form a bond between himself -and the captain. Fate, perhaps—why not? - -He shook his head, smiling at himself for the superstition. -Nevertheless, he asked the captain: - -“Ever taken a turn with Fate, Captain Jantzen?” - -The captain smiled, a mirthless smile that might have been a setting of -his teeth. - -“I should think so,” he said, with an air of definite certainty, as if -answering question about a harbour he knew blindfolded. “And if you -haven’t, I’ll give you a bit of advice: take it by the horns straight -away; don’t wait on the defensive, attack at once. There’s this about -it: when luck favours a man, and he’s sound enough not to get spoiled by -it at once, sure enough, Fate will try to get a foot on his neck.” - -He stretched out his left hand towards Ormarr, showing the index finger -missing, and went on: - -“It cost me that. I was a deck hand on a fishing-boat at the time, -though I knew the sea, and had many a rough turn with it, and saved more -than one from drowning. And that’s a thing the sea won’t forgive. One -day I was alone on the foredeck, getting the anchor ready, when there -was a hitch in the cable. And then a thing happened that I’ve never -known before or since—my feet slipped sheer away from under me, as if -some one had pulled them. I came down headlong, and the anchor tore away -to the bottom of the sea, taking me with it. My finger was caught -between two links of the cable—there was no getting it free. I thought -to myself, ‘Not this time, anyway,’ and managed to get at my knife, and -hacked it off. It didn’t seem to hurt much while I was in the water—but -when I came up—the men—believe me or not, as you will, but they started -back when they saw my face. I hurried down below—I had a sort of feeling -what it was. And I tell you, sir, there was the mark of death in my face -when I looked; the mark Fate puts on a man before handing him over. And -it was twenty-four hours before it passed off.” - -Captain Jantzen laughed. - -“Since then, Fate’s left me alone. Maybe she never found out how I’d -cheated her. And if she has forgotten, why, maybe I shall live to be an -old man after all.” And as if repenting his levity, the little captain -became serious once more. - -“All the same, it’s not right to joke about that sort of thing.” - -Ormarr had listened with interest to the captain’s story. When he had -finished, he was silent for a moment, then asked: - -“How long have you been captain of ‘Bjørnen,’ Captain Jantzen?” - -“Why, it’ll be twelve years this spring.” And in a tone of some -resignation he went on: - -“It’s not likely I’ll have her for another dozen years. Though I’d like -to. She’s a fine boat, and somehow we sort of belong to one another. But -the owner’s getting on now, and his health’s not what it might be. And -no sons. I fancy the other shareholders are not quite pleased with -things as it is.” - -Ormarr walked up to the captain, and looking straight at him, asked -abruptly: - -“What about buying them out?” - -Jantzen started, and looked inquiringly at Ormarr. - -“I mean it.” - -“Well—yes, I dare say. It’s a limited company. The biggest shareholder -is the owner—and if any one were to buy up all the other shares on the -quiet, well, there’s no saying....” - -Ormarr and the captain seemed suddenly to have become remarkably -intimate with each other—so, at least, it seemed to the others on board. - -They remained for a long time in the captain’s cabin, bending over a map -of Iceland, discussing routes, tariffs, and traffic in a half-whisper. -They talked of nothing but how many vessels and what size would be -needed if one company were to take over the whole of the goods and -passenger traffic between Iceland-Denmark, Iceland-Norway, and -Iceland-Great Britain. - -It was late when Ormarr shook hands with the captain and went to his -bunk, with the parting words: - -“Then the first thing you have to do is to buy up all the shares on the -market. After that, get the old man to sell his holding—but to me and no -one else!” - - * * * * * - -The following morning, Ørlygur à Borg was standing on the borders of his -land, deep in thought. He had dreamed a strange dream the night before, -and was trying hard to remember the details. One thing only stood out -plainly in his memory. He had been standing on this very spot, a little -hill just outside Borg, one day towards the end of summer. And there he -had fought—with what, he could not say. But it was against something -stronger than himself, something which would overpower him unless -Ormarr, his son, came to his aid. Then suddenly he had seen a viking -ship rounding the point, steering straight up the fjord. The sight of -the vessel gave him new strength; he knew that Ormarr was coming to help -him, and the ship was sailing faster than any he had ever seen.... Here -the dream had ended abruptly. - -Ørlygur stood on the hill, trying hard to recall more of the vision. As -if to aid his memory, he looked out in the direction of the fjord.... - -A steamer was rounding the point. - -Ørlygur à Borg lost no time; he ran to the stables, and saddled his -horse. He was about to saddle another in addition, but checked -himself—possibly it was only an important message. Anyhow, instead of -mounting, he had a sleigh brought out, and drove off towards the -snow-covered valley at full speed, reaching the trading station just -before “Bjørnen” came in. - -Ormarr was not a little surprised to find his father among the crowd of -people gathered on the shore. Most of those present had recognized -Ormarr where he stood on the bridge, and there was a general surprise at -his appearance. No one had expected him. Only his father seemed to -regard his homecoming as natural, and showed no sign of astonishment. - -Ormarr was in high spirits and full of pleasant anticipation; he shook -hands right and left. Ørlygur found it hard to conceal his emotion at -the meeting. - -Ormarr introduced Captain Jantzen to his father, but the latter spoke -only a few words to the captain; he seemed intent on getting home -without delay, where he could have his son to himself. - -Before taking his seat in the sleigh, Ormarr took the captain aside: - -“Remember,” he said, “you must get everything ready beforehand. First of -all, a detailed scheme and tariff rates, for our calculations. I shall -be here all winter. After that, I am going to England and France, to get -the money. I shall get it, never fear. Anyhow, I shall see you next -summer in Copenhagen. And then we can set to work in earnest. Be ready -for a struggle when the time comes—it will take some doing, but we can -do it. _Au revoir._” - -On the way out to Borg, the horse was allowed to choose its own pace; -father and son were too engrossed in their talk to trouble about -anything else. - -Ørlygur could not quite understand his son’s attitude towards music and -fame—possibly because Ormarr himself was loth to lay bare all the -trouble of his mind. Moreover, he felt a different man already, far -healthier in mind and body, after the last few days, as if separated by -a wide gulf from the Ormarr who had left Copenhagen after the scandal at -the Concert Hall, a broken man, to seek rest and idleness in his own -country. - -Ørlygur could not altogether grasp his son’s changed attitude towards -the question of his musical career, which had cost ten years of his life -and several thousand pounds. But he thoroughly understood and approved -of his new plan for a better and cheaper and more reliable service of -steamers between Iceland and abroad. - -Ormarr pointed out the advantage of having an independent national -steamship service, and Ørlygur at once perceived the possibilities of -the scheme for furthering the development of Iceland commerce and -industry. The idea of excluding other countries from participating here -appealed to him, and gained his entire support for the scheme. The very -thought thrilled the old chieftain’s heart. Ay, they deserved no better, -those slack-minded, selfish traders—they would only be reaping the -results of their own shortcomings. They should no longer be allowed to -monopolize trade, send up prices, make unreasonable profits, and do what -they liked generally. There would be an end of their ill-found, -ramshackle vessels, coming and going at their own convenience without -the slightest regard for the public or their own advertised times. It -was war—and he rejoiced at it. No question but that the people of Borg -must win in the end. - -As they were nearing home, Ormarr said: - -“I am going to stay here this winter, father, before I set out -again—Heaven knows how long it may be before I come back after that. I -should like to live to enjoy one more spring here in Iceland. But after -that, I must go abroad; work, work. It will take best part of the -summer, I reckon, to raise the money—it will need a lot of money.” - -Ørlygur gazed thoughtfully at the landscape, and answered: - -“Well, well—I suppose you are right.” - -For a while no sound was heard but the beat of the horse’s hoofs and the -creaking of the sleigh. Then Ørlygur said in a half-whisper: - -“But—we have some money here, you know, ourselves.” - -Ormarr looked at his father keenly, and after a moment’s thought he -said: - -“Look here, father, I will tell you what I have thought of doing about -the money part of the business. I want to get the money without offering -shares. It will be difficult, I dare say. But I must be independent -here; I cannot bear to be bound by considerations of credit, or other -men’s interests, and that sort of thing. It would spoil the whole thing. -The business must be my property; I will not have a thing that can be -ruined by others after I have built it up. But if I should be unable to -get the capital in the way I want it—why, then, I may come to you. -Provided, of course, I can be sure of running no risk in the investment. -I owe you too much already.—My inheritance, you say? I have not come -into the property yet. But suppose we put it that way; that I owe so -much to the estate. Anyhow, I owe it; it is money that must be paid, if -things do not go altogether against us. For the present, I must fall -back on you. But I shall not want much—nothing like what I have been -drawing up to now. And I am proud that you are willing to help me, when -I know I must have disappointed you by what I have done up to now.” - -“I trust you, Ormarr,” his father said. “I do not quite understand, but -I feel sure you were obliged to act as you did. The rest does not -concern me. I know that you are honest and sincere, and I know that your -aim now is not a selfish one.” - -For a time no more was said; both men seemed anxious to let it appear -that their minds were occupied with anything rather than with each -other. But for all his apparent calmness, Ormarr was overwhelmed with -gratitude to his father; to the fate that had given him such a father; -given him Borg for his inheritance, and suffered him to be born a son of -this little nation. Ørlygur, on his part, concealed beneath an -expression of indifference a feeling of pride and love for his son. - -As the sleigh drove up in front of the house, all the servants came out -to welcome Ormarr, with a heartiness that showed plainly enough for all -their quiet manner. A tall girl of about thirteen, with lovely flaxen -hair flowing loose about her shoulders, appeared; this was Gudrun, a -daughter of Pall à Seyru, now adopted by Ørlygur. Ketill was nowhere to -be seen; Ormarr asked where his brother was. - -Ørlygur smiled. - -“Have you forgotten already? I wrote you in my last letter that I had -sent him to the school at Rejkjavik. He wants to enter the Church, I -understand. And I have been thinking that it would not be a bad idea -later on, if he took over the living here. If, then, you decide to live -abroad, as seems likely, and give up the estate here, then he could -manage that as well. For the present, I have my health and strength, and -hope to look after it myself for many years. We shall see.” - - * * * * * - -Of Ormarr’s stay at Borg that winter there is little to be said. Every -Sunday the people of the parish came up to hear him play the violin. He -was delighted to play to them, and touched at their grateful, almost -devotional, reception of his playing. - -Spring came. The snow melted, and the rivers sent floods of muddy water -and blue ice towards the sea. A great unrest came over Ormarr, and he -left earlier than he had planned. So, after all, he missed the soft -purity of the Iceland spring, the beautiful white nights with the glow -of light on the fields and ridges pearled with dew. He missed the sight -of the butterflies fluttering in gaudy flocks, and the birds among the -little hillocks where their nests lay hid. - -He had already felt the grip of spring at his heart when he saw the wild -swans and other fowl heading for the still frozen heights farther -inland, driving their wedges through the air, and crying aloud in joy of -life. And that same viking spirit which had driven his fathers before -him came on him now and drove him abroad in haste. - -As he left Iceland for the second time, his father stood on the pier -with moist eyes. Ørlygur remained there, watching till nothing was to be -seen of the vessel but a few grey wisps of smoke. Then he tore himself -away, mounted his horse, and rode home, deep in thought. - -If his blessing carried any weight, then surely matters would go well -with his son. - -He slept but ill that night; he was sorry he had not prevailed upon -Ormarr to accept the money from him. It would have saved much trouble, -and, at any rate, a certain amount of time. - -If only Ormarr had come to him, rather than procure the funds he needed -from others, and upon doubtful terms.... - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -The cold, pure light of an autumn morning found the electric lamps still -burning in a villa by the Sound. It was the residence of Ormarr -Ørlygsson, company director, a man well known in the business world, and -bearer of sundry decorations. - -The light shone through the rose-coloured curtains of the French windows -opening on to a verandah facing the sea. The room was large; the -arrangement marked its owner as a bachelor. It served as office, -sitting-room, and study. The wall opposite the window was occupied -entirely by shelves filled with books: works of reference and lighter -literature. The other walls, each with a heavily curtained door, were -hung with paintings, all representing Icelandic landscapes. In one -corner was a heavy piece of bronze statuary, likewise Icelandic, “The -Outlaw.” The floor was covered with an Oriental carpet. - -Ormarr sat at the big writing-table, his head buried in his hands. -Lights burned in a crystal globe above his head, and in a reading-lamp -at his elbow. The glow from the green shade of the latter, blending with -the light of day, created a weird effect. - -Ormarr had been sitting at his desk the whole night, going through piles -of accounts and business papers. - -For some time he sat thus, motionless. When at last he looked up, it was -plain that thirteen years of work as a business man had left their mark -on him. His face was thinner; his dark, rough hair was longer than was -customary among men on the bourse, and the fact gave a touch of -independence to his otherwise faultless appearance. - -His expression was changed; the large, dark eyes were restless—a dreamy, -far-away look alternating rapidly with a glance of keen alertness. When -alone, his look varied continually with his varying moods, but in the -presence of others he kept rigid control over his features; the severest -scrutiny could detect nothing of the workings of his mind. Two deep -furrows slanted down on either side the mouth, completing the impression -of resolute firmness combined with melancholy resignation and -bitterness. - -As he looked round the room, his eyes betrayed the trouble in his mind. -He glanced deliberately at each of the things around him, works of art -and furnishings, as if in farewell, dwelling now and then on some single -item as if trying to fix it in his mind. - -Gradually he began to realize that his first impression of the previous -day was correct—he was a stranger in his own place. And he shuddered at -the thought. Unconsciously he picked up the cable he had received the -day before, smoothed it out before him, and read it over with bitter, -scornful eyes. - -“What a fool I have been!” he muttered. “I might have known....” And he -laughed—a choking, unnatural laugh, and rose slowly to his feet. -Languidly he drew back the curtain, opened the window, and stepped out -on to the verandah. - -Leaning on the railing, he looked out over the shore, with the troubled -sea and the Swedish coast beyond. The view had calmed him often, but -there was no rest in it now; he looked at it all impatiently, no longer -able to find any comfort in visions. - -All was changed now. - -His clothes irked him; his hands were soiled with dust from the papers -he had been busied with; a general sense of bodily discomfort pervaded -him. And as if to escape from his emotional self, he left the room -hurriedly; a bath and a change of clothes would be something at -least.... - - * * * * * - -The housekeeper received her master’s orders to serve lunch on the -verandah with some surprise. It was a way of hers to appear mildly -surprised at things and today there certainly seemed some reason for -astonishment: for thirteen years her master had never been at home to a -meal at that hour of the day—why was he not at the office as usual? -Ormarr’s manner, however, forebade all questioning, and she did not -venture to ask if anything were wrong. - -Ormarr went to the telephone, and rung up the office, speaking coolly -enough. - -“That you Busck? Good morning. Captain Jantzen there? Morning, -Captain.... No, nothing wrong, but something has happened. Yes ... -listen! You must hand over ‘Bjornen’ to the first mate this voyage.... -What? Lose half an hour? Can’t be helped; I want you here. Come out here -at once, please, but first get the chief clerk to tell you what I want -done about the shares, and do as he says. Then out here to me as quick -as you can. I’ll tell you all about it when you arrive. Right—good-bye.” - -A few minutes later the telephone bell rang. Ormarr took up the receiver -with a gesture of annoyance, but on recognizing the speaker’s voice, his -manner changed. - -“Yes—yes. Morning, Ketill. Ill? No, not a bit. Are you both there? Well, -come out and have lunch with me instead. Don’t know what we’ve got in -the house, but come anyway. Eh? No, not a bit. I have been rather -busy—up all night.... No, never can sleep in the daytime. Right, then. -_Au revoir._” - - * * * * * - -Ketill, now getting on for thirty, was already in orders, and was to be -presented to the living of Hof in Hofsfjordur in the autumn, Sera Daniel -being about to retire on account of age. - -The original plan had been that Ketill should have spent a few days only -in Copenhagen when going abroad in the spring, on his way to Switzerland -and Italy, returning _via_ England. But Ketill, who had preferred -staying at an hotel rather than at his brother’s, had soon found -friends, largely owing to his brother’s introductions. One of the -acquaintances thus made was that of a banker, Vivild, whose daughter -Alma had quickly captured Ketill’s heart. - -His tour of Europe, then, came to consist of but a few short trips, with -Copenhagen as his headquarters. Ormarr had been surprised at this, but -his brother gave him no enlightenment as to the attraction which drew -him constantly back to the capital. Until one fine day Ketill announced -his engagement and forthcoming marriage. - -Ormarr had always looked on Alma as a tender plant, that could never be -transplanted and live; the news surprised him. But he made no comment. -Without realizing it himself, he had been deeply in love with dainty, -sweet-natured Alma, but for no other reason apparently than a sense of -his own unworthiness, had said no word of it to her. And here was his -brother, holding the blossom himself, and tantalizingly inviting him to -admire its sweetness. - -The part of brother-in-law was by no means a pleasant prospect to -Ormarr, but he reconciled himself to the thought. - -Ketill—Sera Ketill, as we should now call him—was young and -good-looking, with a pleasant and genial bearing. At times Ormarr could -not help feeling that there was something a trifle insincere in his -brother’s geniality. Still, Ketill was a nice enough fellow to all -outward seeming, albeit a trifle stouter of build than need be. - -There was never any exchange of confidence between the two brothers; -they knew, indeed, but little of each other. Ormarr was conscious of an -involuntary dislike of Ketill; he tried in vain to subdue the feeling; -it remained unaltered. Ketill, on the other hand, appeared not to notice -any lack of brotherly love and sympathy. Neither of the two men realized -that Ketill’s nature not only did not invite, but rendered impossible -any real confidence. - -The first to notice this, albeit but vaguely to begin with, was Alma. -The discovery troubled her a little, but she let it pass. - -From all appearances, the union was a promising one, and the wedding was -looked forward to by both parties with equal anticipation. The ceremony -was to take place on the day before Ketill’s entering upon his new -dignity, and the bride was to accompany him to their new home. - -Alma and Ketill arrived at Ormarr’s house half an hour after Ketill had -rung up. Alma promptly went out to assist the housekeeper with the -lunch. - -The brothers, standing by the writing-table in the sitting-room, lit -their cigarettes. Sera Ketill looked with unconcealed scrutiny at his -brother’s face, and with his usual affectation of heartiness said at -once: - -“Well, if you’re not ill, you look precious near it. What’s gone wrong -now? Business?” - -“That’s as you like to take it.” - -“What do you mean by that? Nothing important, I suppose.” - -“Important?—well, in a way, it is.” Ormarr passed the wire across to his -brother, who read it through. - -“Well, what does it mean?” - -“It means that since yesterday I am—a millionaire.” - -“The devil you are—Heaven forgive me! Well, you are in luck. How did you -manage it? Can’t you tell a fellow how it’s done? A millionaire!... -Well, I’m.... Lord forgive me! It’s all right, I suppose?” - -“Yes, it’s right enough.” - -“Well.... And What are you going to do now? Extend the business ... new -routes?... If you take my advice, you’ll be a bit careful. Buy up the -land in Iceland—that’s a sound investment. Buy up Hofsfjordur.... What a -lucky devil!... Lord forgive me!... But what are you going to do now?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Well, anyhow, you can do things in earnest now. Monopolize the trade of -Iceland. You control the traffic already; the people know you, and trust -you—that’s worth a lot in itself. They’re not an easy lot to win—that -way, but once you’ve got them ... if you manage things properly, you’re -all right there. Ormarr, you’re in luck. Look at me now—in orders. And -even if I get the estate.... The old man—father, I mean—he’s getting -childish already. Gives things away—money, live stock, food—you never -saw. And he’s struck off all outstanding debts the peasants owed -him—it’s whittling down the power of Borg to nothing. And we ought to -have kept it up. Ever since you paid back the money you had from him—it -wasn’t quite fair to me, you know, his letting you have all that—but -anyhow, since you paid him back, he seems to think he’s a millionaire, -and can throw money about as he likes. Well, well, I’m fixed up now, I -suppose. But you—millionaire, what are you going to do now?” - -“I’ll tell you.... No, it’s no use trying to explain....” - -“Yes, yes, go on. What is it? New speculations? I’m interested in that -sort of thing; go on.” - -“No, it’s not speculation. I’ve had enough of that.” - -“Don’t you believe it! When things turn out like they have done here. To -tell the truth—I’ve been thinking of a little flutter on my own account. -Old man Vivild’s put me on to a good thing ... but it seems you know the -trick of it, so....” - -“Oh, for Heaven’s sake don’t. Stick to Vivild if you’re going in for -that sort of thing. He’s a sound man, and a clever one.” - -“Well, well, as you please. But I can’t get over it.... A -millionaire!... the dev—— Lord forgive me!” - - * * * * * - -After lunch the three sat together in a corner of the garden—Ketill and -Alma side by side on a bench, Ormarr a little apart. - -The conversation flagged somewhat; a few desultory attempts fell flat. - -Suddenly Ormarr realized that his brother’s manner was different when -Alma was present. He had noticed something before ... a curious abrupt -change of mood, from lively jocularity to a sort of dreamy, thoughtful -silence. But it had never occurred to him that it was Alma that brought -about the change. Could it be a mask? In any case, the mask, if mask it -were, suited him a great deal better than his normal appearance. - -And as he watched them, Alma with her brown hair and bright dark eyes -and Ketill with his heavy face and priestly air of calm, a feeling of -resentment rose in him against his brother. - -“I love coming out here,” said Alma suddenly. “It’s so different to the -atmosphere at home—business.... Ugh.” - -Ketill smiled. But Ormarr laughed and said: - -“I should have thought one would feel more at home in the atmosphere one -grew up in. But, as a matter of fact, you are wrong about the atmosphere -here—it is all business really, and nothing else.” - -“Father says you are not really a business man. And I think he is -right.” - -“The facts would seem to prove your father wrong, Froken Vivild.” - -“He says you are—extraordinary. And that you’ve a lucky sense.” - -“Maybe. It comes to the same thing. I fancy success in business is -largely a matter of luck. Do you know what has helped me most all along? -Well, before I started in business, I was well known, in a way, from my -efforts in another direction. Not to put too fine a point on it—people -believed me mad. And, consequently, everything I set out to do was -regarded as more madness. It was the best thing that could have been—and -I’m very much obliged to the people who thought so....” - -A little later, Ormarr saw his guests to the gate, and stood watching -them as they left, arm in arm. - -“A lovely creature,” he thought. “The graceful way she walks.... But a -child, no more. And he—I wonder how he will treat her. I’m afraid she -will have a hard time of it with him. Perhaps when all’s said and done, -she would have been better off with me.” - -He stood watching the dainty figure as it receded, noting the graceful -curves, and the mass of brown hair under the wide-brimmed hat. - -“A dream,” he mused. “One of life’s lovely dreams....” - -He closed the gate and walked up towards the house. - -“No one to stop it ... life must run its course. _I_ dare not -interfere—I may be wrong. And—in my case, it is too late now.” - - * * * * * - -An hour later, Captain Jantzen was sitting in Ormarr’s room, in his -usual place, an arm-chair at one end of the writing-table. - -Ormarr passed across a box of cigars, and rang for wine. - -Captain Jantzen was obviously ill at ease. - -“Well, sir,” he asked, “good news, I hope?” - -“No, Jantzen; bad news.” Ormarr hunted out the telegram he had shown -Ketill, and passed it over. Jantzen read it through hurriedly, and -glanced up quickly at Ormarr. - -“If I remember rightly, we’re on the right side here.” - -“That is so.” - -“Why, then—we are safe. This gives us a free hand now—we can cover all -outstanding loans, we can out-distance all competition.” - -“Yes—and it puts me out of the game, Jantzen.” - -“How? I don’t understand....” - -“No, I’m afraid you’d hardly understand....” - -“Well, sir, I confess as much. But there must surely be something behind -this—I don’t see....” - -“Only that victory has put me out of action, that is all. Ever since I -started this thing, it has only been the difficulty of carrying it -through that kept me to it. Now that is disposed of, I collapse. I can’t -live in that fruitful sort of country where you’ve only to plough and -change your crops now and again—I can’t work at a thing that runs by -itself. It’s not only that it doesn’t interest me; I haven’t the power -of self-deception it requires. I’m perfectly aware of that. I feel at -the moment like a bow that has been strung and drawn to its limit, and -shot its bolt where it should. I’ve no use for repetition. And, take my -word for it, if luck has favoured me up to now—in business, I mean—it -would surely fail me after this. Once before in my life I have suffered -the defeat of victory. And then, I chanced on you—it was Fate that led -me to a new task; and with it, at the end, a new victory—a new defeat. -True, the result has been somewhat different this time. But it comes to -the same thing. I have done with the task—or it has done with me.” - -Jantzen watched the speaker’s face intently; he remembered the pale -features of a younger man, who had stood with tears in his eyes, on the -bridge of his vessel, at the first sight of Iceland from the sea. It was -a face he had come to love—so strong it could be at times, and at times -so weak. - -And a deep despondency, such as he had only known in lonely watches far -at sea by night, filled his heart. - -Ormarr was absolutely calm and unmoved to all appearances; he seemed to -have no regrets. He emptied his glass and nodded to Jantzen. - -“There’s no harm done, that I can see. What do you say to taking over -the management yourself, Jantzen?” - -“Impossible. I could never look after a business like that—I’m not built -for it.” - -“Nonsense, Captain. Don’t tell me you couldn’t run a line of steamers. -The idea! I suppose the truth of it is you’re unwilling to give up your -ship.” - -“That’s true. I’ve captained ‘Bjørnen’ now for five-and-twenty years.” - -“But the business is more important than a single vessel. Let’s stick to -the matter in hand—the business itself. I can no longer manage it -myself. And you are the only man I can trust to take over. You must take -it over. As for ‘Bjørnen’—we can easily find another man. But if the -business itself were now to pass into the hands of strangers, all our -work will have been in vain; we should, in fact, have done more harm -than good.—I suppose you will say that it is my duty to carry on. That’s -reasonable enough—as long as the course you propose is possible. But it -is not possible any longer. It is simply this: I can control myself only -to a limited degree; that you may take for a simple fact. And the limit -is reached. What I am to do now I do not know. First of all, I shall go -home—it is long since I was there. Anything in the shape of rest, or -interruption, is dangerous to me, and that is why I have not been home -to see my father for thirteen years. But something tells me that he -needs me now, though I have no idea in what way I can be of use. Never -mind. I am subject to my instincts; to defy them would be a crime -against myself—perhaps against a higher power. We are both of us -somewhat superstitious, you and I. Anyhow, to come to the point. You, -Captain Jantzen, will now acquire this business by purchase.” - -“Purchase? Now you are joking. I might perhaps _manage_ the business, if -there’s no other way....” - -“That won’t do. You must buy it outright. As to terms, I shall be your -only creditor, and you won’t find me a hard one to deal with.” - -“But—by that arrangement, the management—the business itself—will be in -Danish hands.” - -“Where did you learn your trade, Captain? On the coasts of -Iceland—working for a people not your own. And you will admit that you -have more than a little sympathy with that little island and its people, -obstinate though they may be at times. Also, it would be a good thing -for my countrymen to realize that they need not always look upon the -Danes as enemies.” - -Ormarr took up his glass. “Well, here’s to the venture!” - -Captain Jantzen’s hand trembled slightly, and he spilt a few red drops -on the costly carpet as he drank. - -“Since you will have it so, why, let it be. But I’m sorry about -‘Bjørnen.’” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -One evening towards the end of summer, two people were seated in the -room at Borg which served Ørlygur as bedroom and sitting-room. They were -an old man, grey-haired and stooping, and a pale-faced young woman. - -The last few years had left their mark on Ørlygur à Borg. The stately -bearing and alertness which had distinguished him in days gone by, had -given place to a listlessness and an expression of gloom. There was -little of the old masterfulness in the man who sat now on the edge of -the bed, staring at the ruddy flicker of a tallow candle. His eyes were -no longer keen and bright, but dull and spiritless, as at the present -moment, or at times wandering anxiously, as if seeking aid against some -threatening peril. - -The young woman seated near him was finely built, with a wealth of -flaxen hair, but seemed in ill-health and troubled in mind. Her whole -bearing was one of resignation and despair. Her eyes were red with -weeping; dark rings showed up beneath them from the pallor of her -cheeks—the signs of restless nights and sad thoughts. - -Twelve strokes from the big upright clock broke the silence, and -startled Ørlygur from his musings. He glanced at the bowed form of the -woman, and then at a letter which lay on the table. - -Once more he conned the sentence which had brought such pain to himself -and his adopted daughter—as if to make sure there had been no mistake. -No, it was right enough: “I am engaged to a girl I met here this -summer ... Alma ... daughter of.... Married in a fortnight, just before -I leave, so you can expect us both....” - -The letter was from his son Ketill. - -And there, before him, sat the woman that same Ketill had ruined—and her -state would soon be evident to all. - -Some time back the girl’s pale face and mournful bearing had moved -Ørlygur to question her, and he had learned the cause from her own -mouth. Runa, as she was called by all on the place, was at least as -deeply attached to Ørlygur as to her real father, Pall à Seyru. And it -had not been difficult for her to confide in him. The truth had come as -a terrible shock to the old man, but both had consoled themselves with -the thought that Ketill at least had no intention of leaving her thus -betrayed; that he would behave as an honourable man. If not—why, Ørlygur -would see that he did so. - -But now, all unexpectedly, that consolation was destroyed, leaving a -dark future indeed ahead. - -Runa’s trouble was not the only thing he had to bear; there were other -matters that seemed to bode no good. And all were more or less connected -with his son Ketill; Ketill, who was to inherit the estate and maintain -the honourable traditions of Borg. - -To begin with, things had looked well enough; excellent, indeed, in -every way. The estate had grown richer since Ormarr had repaid the loans -made to him, and the whole trade of the district was in the hands of -Ørlygur’s trusted men. The place was flourishing—thanks largely to -Ørlygur’s magnanimity in cancelling debts that proved too much of a -burden—and the general state of affairs was healthy and promising. Then, -in addition to the good name which Ketill would inherit, there was his -position in holy orders. Altogether, the outlook for the family was one -of dignity and honour. - -Now, things looked otherwise. Some months before, Ørlygur had begun to -learn something of Ketill’s true nature; his selfishness and meanness; -to hand over the estate to him seemed less advisable now than he had -thought. Still, it should doubtless be possible to make him realize the -duties and responsibilities of his position; to persuade him on matters -where any danger threatened. - -But the new development had raised an issue of a far more serious -character. Once it were known abroad that the master of Borg—as Ketill -in time would be—had deliberately ruined a young girl,—a girl, moreover, -under the protection of his father’s roof,—and had thereafter married -another, probably for selfish considerations also, then the good name of -the family, jealously guarded and built up through centuries, would be -destroyed as by a flood. It seemed as if the fortunes of Borg were on -the verge of ruin. - -Ørlygur thought of these things—and the idea of disinheriting Ketill, at -any rate as regarded succession to the estate, crossed his mind. If only -he himself could be sure of living long enough, then he might perhaps -make Runa or her child his heir. The child would after all be his own -grandchild, with the blood of his race in its veins. - -But as he sat, his thoughts and plans faded to mere dreams and aimless -desires. The future was too hard for him to face. - -Runa sat trying to pray, her lips moving without a sound, to frame the -opening sentence of the Lord’s Prayer. - -The man she had loved was far away in a foreign land—at that very -moment, perhaps, he held another woman in his arms. - -“Our Father....” - -He had sworn that he loved her. Neither had spoken of marriage—she had -not spoken of it because she had never doubted him. - -“Our Father which art....” - -He had never written to her—not a line. It was a cruel blow to her to -realize that he had never loved her—and yet she bore within her the seed -of life he had planted. And her whole future now was ruined and -desolate.... - -“Our father....” - -But she could not pray. A flood of thoughts streamed into her -mind—memories of mild spring evenings in the past and fears for her -present position in one confusion. Her brain could not set either prayer -or thought into form. - -Ørlygur rose and came over to her; he tried to comfort her, but found no -words. One thing only he knew: reparation must be made, at whatever -cost. - - * * * * * - -Sera Ketill was far from pleased to learn that his brother was returning -to Iceland on the same boat with himself and his bride. Something told -him that it would be to his interest to keep his father and Ormarr -apart. - -Ketill had come to regard himself as heir to the estate by this time, -and already saw himself installed at Borg. He never dreamed that -Ormarr’s present journey, which he regarded as merely a flying visit, -could prove in any way a danger to himself and his plans. Ormarr had -told him nothing of the transfer of the business. At the most, thought -Ketill, it would be a nuisance. - -His elder brother was in many ways much like his father. Both seemed -eternally to regard themselves as owing a duty to all and sundry—simply -because they happened to have been born in better circumstances than -most of those around them. Ketill thought himself sufficiently a man of -the world to be able to destroy this conviction; and he was not far from -regarding it as a childish weakness on the part of Ørlygur and Ormarr. -Regard for others, indeed! - -Ketill was not hampered severely by trammels of faith or morality. He -had gone to a school where the general rule of conduct seemed to be each -for himself; his studies at college had brought him among students who -for the most part made little attempt to conceal the fact that they made -light of their calling. One after another, he had seen them go out into -the world as priests, in the service of God, spiritually defective, -rotten, and corrupt, to their task of leading others by the right way. -And all this had left him with but little respect himself for his -mission; he enrolled himself with the rest, as a matter of course. - -His latest idea was nothing less than to buy up the whole of -Hofsfjordur. To own a whole parish—it would be a position of unique -power and authority. Priest and sole landlord of the place. And then he -could take over the business now run by Jon Borgari’s widow under -Ørlygur’s supervision. It was a dazzling scheme. - -He was enraged when he heard that his father had cancelled the debts -owing to him by the peasants. Carefully handled, they would have made a -splendid weapon. And he puzzled his brains for some way whereby he -might—when his father had gone—render the old chieftain’s action null -and void. - -Ormarr’s return now was a serious blow to his plans. He had more than -once hinted to Ormarr that Ørlygur was getting strange in his manner and -actions of late, and it had been in his mind that afterwards he could -break the sad news to his brother that their father had towards the end -been not altogether responsible for his actions. - -But now Ormarr would see his father for himself, and there was no -prospect of carrying out that part of the plan. Moreover, it was likely -that Ormarr and Ørlygur, in their talks together, might bring out -several little matters not at all to his advantage, and seriously damage -his prospects. He must, at all events, try as far as possible to be -present whenever the two seemed disposed to talk over things generally. -He had, of course, given orders for the vicarage to be set in order -ready for his arrival, but he could doubtless stay under his father’s -roof for a time on his return, without giving cause for comment. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr’s arrival with the newly married couple was altogether -unexpected. Ørlygur was greatly moved, and embraced his son with tears -in his eyes. - -Ormarr was deeply touched when he saw how his father had aged. He -thanked the Fate that had led him to throw up his work and come home. -Also, it seemed that his coming was well timed; for he was quick to note -the strained relations between his father and Ketill, though the reason -was not at first apparent. - -Ørlygur received his younger son with marked coolness, but spared no -pains to make his welcome as cordial as possible to his daughter-in-law. - -Ketill’s idea of making a stay at Borg to begin with was promptly -shattered. Ørlygur had guessed his intention, and soon after the midday -meal, went out himself to see that horses were saddled. On re-entering -the room, he acquainted Ketill of the fact, and added: “You will want to -show your wife over the new home before it gets dark.” - -The hint was too direct to be disregarded; there was nothing for it but -to go with a good grace. - -When the pair had left, Ormarr and his father sat alone in the -sitting-room. And now for the first time Ormarr perceived how troubled -in mind the old man was. He paced up and down the room, and for some -time Ormarr forbore to question him. It was hard for Ørlygur to -commence, but at length he pulled himself together, and spoke in a weak -and faltering voice. - -“Ormarr, you should have been my only son. It would have been better so. -I am paying dearly for my disregard of the warning. Had I not been so -self-willed, maybe your mother would have been alive now, and your life -would have been very different. Not that I’ve anything to reproach you -with, no....” - -Ormarr grasped his father’s hand, and pressed it. The old man turned his -head away, and went on: - -“It is hard to see a thing one had treasured with heart and soul brought -to ruin; to die, and leave an inheritance of responsibility behind. -Ormarr, do you remember Pall à Seyru’s little girl?” - -“Runa? Yes, indeed. Why have I not seen her this time? I hope she is not -very seriously ill?” Ormarr had inquired after her on his return, but -had simply been told that she was not well. - -Ørlygur hesitated for a moment. Then he said: - -“Runa has been betrayed—by your brother.” - -Ormarr started as if struck, and his face paled. His father’s hand -slipped from his grasp, and the two men sat for a while in silence. When -at last they spoke, it was of other things. - -“Yes,” said Ørlygur thoughtfully, “there are many things that will -trouble me if the estate goes to Ketill. I have an idea that he thinks -of collecting the debts I wrote off for the people here some time back, -as still due to the estate. The folk do not trust him, and have -certainly no love for him. If the place—and the honour of the family—are -left to him.... I could wish them in better hands.” - -“But I have come home now, father.” - -Ørlygur looked questioningly at his son. - -“But—you will not be here very long? Your business....” - -“I have sold it.” - -“Sold the fleet? To whom?” Ørlygur flung out the question with evident -anxiety in his voice, and looked keenly at his son. - -“To Jantzen.” - -“Ah—that is another thing. You can trust him?” - -“As I could myself, or you, father.” - -“I thought so, or you would not have sold to him.” - -“I had to sell out, because we had succeeded in our aim, and there was -no longer any need for me to continue. I could not go on. Once I have -mastered a thing, when the element of uncertainty and contest—apart from -what is obtainable by all—has gone, then I can work at it no longer.” - -“Then you will take over the estate here?” - -“Yes. That is—or will be—a task for me; something that others could not -do as well. You are old now, father, and your last years should be lived -in peace. I may be a little strange here, at first, still, I can feel -that I have come home.” - -Father and son sat in the growing darkness without thought of needing -lights. Each wanted to know all about the other’s life during the years -since they had last been together. Ormarr also was keenly concerned to -learn about matters in the parish, who had died and what newcomers were -to be reckoned with; there were a hundred questions to be answered. -Ørlygur, on his part, was eager to hear of his son’s doings during those -years, for Ormarr had said but little in his letters. - -“There is nothing to tell,” he said now. “I have worked hard—slaved at -the work—beyond that, nothing.” - -“You are yourself again now—or at least recognizable as yourself,” said -Ørlygur. “Changes there are, of course, but mostly in your looks only. -Voice, and eyes, and expression have not changed. I have noticed -sometimes you smile just as you used to do—it is very long ago now. They -have been weary years, since your mother and you seemed so far -away—sometimes you too seemed as far off as your mother in her grave. -But I see you have been true to yourself all the time. And I am glad you -have come home. I thank you, Ormarr. And I thank God for sending you -back to me.” - -It was dark now, but still no lights were lit. The house was silent; -nothing heard save when one of the two men spoke. - -They talked on, fitfully, springing from one thing to another. But for -all their frankness and sincerity, there was evidently something that -preyed on both their minds. - -At last Ørlygur brought up the matter himself. - -“Worst of all is that about poor little Runa.” - -Ormarr rose, walked to the window, and stood drumming with his fingers -on the panes. Then, as if ashamed of having shown feeling, he returned -to his seat. - -“Runa?... Yes. No one must know what has happened. We cannot have _her_ -dishonoured. For him I have no pity, except for the sake of his wife. -She is a good little soul, father, and we must be kind to her. But -Runa ... father, I know what I must do.” - -Ørlygur was silent. A strange stillness seemed to fill the room. - -“I suppose you are right,” said Ørlygur at last. “There is not any one -else...?” - -Ormarr rose. “No, there is no one else,” he said shortly, and he lit the -lamp. - -Ørlygur took a candlestick with a stump of candle in, lit it, and kissed -his son’s forehead. - -“Good-night, Ormarr,” he said quietly. “I am going to bed now.” - -As he passed Runa’s bed, the light fell on two wakeful, shining eyes. -Making sure that none of the others in the room were awake, Ørlygur bent -down and kissed her. - -“Don’t be afraid, little Runa. Ormarr has something to say to you in the -morning.” - - * * * * * - -Ormarr sat on, staring at the windows, long after his father had gone. - -His own calmness surprised him. He felt as if he were playing himself as -a pawn on the board of life—and yet he could play—and let himself be -played—willingly enough. Neither he nor his father had considered Runa’s -possible wishes in the matter. Ormarr smiled as the thought struck him. - -But, in any case, her honour must be saved. - -A drowsy weariness came over him. How empty life was, after all! What -had he, himself, got out of it in return for all his labour? His years -of work had been for the benefit of others. But was his work of any -great importance, after all? There had been a time when he had thought -only of fame and pleasure. Then he had seen that there were other things -more worth regard. At first he had regarded the domains of love as -sacred and inviolable, but after a time had plunged recklessly across -the border. And since then he had always regarded himself as one who -could never hope to meet with his heart’s desire, his ideal. The whole -question of love seemed one of but slight importance to him -thenceforward. And he had been occupied with other things. - -It all came back to him now, as he thought of his brother’s relations -with his old-time playmate, the fair-haired child whom he had known -later as a tall, bright-spirited girl. - -And now he was to marry her. She was a woman now—and his brother had -betrayed her. It was a thing that had to be, for her honour’s sake and -that of the family name. His brother’s child would be brought up as his. -He was to marry, and his wife would bear a child—another’s child. - -How strangely the threads of life were woven! Well, after all, why not? -It mattered little—nothing really mattered. What would the child be -like? he wondered. Boy or girl? And what was the mother like? Again, it -did not matter much. - -Anyhow, this must be the last phase—the final stage of his life. It must -end as it had begun—at Borg. Like his forefathers, he was fated to be a -link in a chain, rather than an individual. - -Only it meant now that all his dreams of something greater and better -were at an end. - -He glanced up and saw that it was light outside; the moon had come out -from behind a hill. Moved by a sudden impulse, he took his hat and coat -and went out. - -The sky was cloudy, semi-darkness and bright moonlight alternating in -quick succession; the earth looked cold and forbidding under a heavy -frost, with the streams showing up as dark lines through the white. - -Ormarr took a path he knew, leading to Borgara, where as a lad he had -guarded the wool by night. Leaning against a rock, he stood, letting -thoughts and fancies play through his mind at random. The happenings of -the day, the revelations he had heard, seemed more like a dream than any -reality. - - * * * * * - -Runa lay wakeful long through the night. Ormarr’s unexpected return had -thrown her into a state of confused emotion. The simultaneous arrival of -Ketill seemed but of minor importance, though why this should be so, she -could not have told herself. - -She remembered Ormarr from his last visit home, and how she had felt -drawn to him at the time. He, on the other hand, had not paid much -attention to her, and was doubtless unaware of the impression he had -made. To her, he was the greatest and best, the most wonderful of men; -an ideal, inaccessible, but nevertheless to be worshipped. - -Then he had gone away—vanished as suddenly as he had come, to live -thenceforward only as a dream in her heart. And she was firmly convinced -that he had never given her a thought. In this, as a matter of fact, she -was right. - -On learning of his arrival now, she had tried in every way to avoid him, -to conceal herself from him. All the others might know, but Ormarr—no, -that was too cruel. And now—he would learn it soon enough. His father -would tell him, and he would know what she was—the very thought of it -made her shudder. She was not what she appeared to be; she was nothing. -She hated Ketill, and wished herself dead. - -The thought of taking her own life had crossed her mind, but fear -restrained her. Now the thought came up again, and when Ørlygur had -whispered to her as he passed, whispered a thing she dared not -understand, she made up her mind. There was no fear in her heart now, -she had taken her decision. - -Shortly after Ørlygur had retired, she rose up, dressed herself -noiselessly, and crept along the passage towards the room where Ormarr -slept. A light showed from beneath the door; evidently he was still -awake. With bated breath she passed by, and crept from the house without -a sound. She longed to look in through the window, just to see what he -looked like—now. But she dared not risk it. She stepped cautiously and -quietly until a little way from the house, then suddenly she broke into -a run, and made away towards the place she had in mind.... - -Ormarr saw a woman come rushing down towards the river. His first -impulse was to run towards her, but, realizing that she must pass close -by where he stood, he remained motionless, waiting. - -The woman checked her pace and stood for a moment with hands clasped to -her breast. Then she bent down and, taking up one of the sacks that were -strewn around, began filling it with stones. She felt its weight, and, -apparently satisfied, tied up the mouth. No sound came from her lips. - -In a flash Ormarr realized who it was, and what she had in mind. He saw -her move down to the water’s edge, the sack in her hand. Then, rising, -he called to her softly: - -“Runa!” - -The girl stood still as if paralysed. He walked up to her without a -word; he did not look at the sack, but touched it as if by accident with -his foot, sending it into the water. Then, taking the girl’s arm, he led -her quietly back to the house. - -He took her to his room, led her to a seat and sat down beside her, -taking her hands in his and stroking them tenderly. The girl’s breast -heaved; she was deadly pale, but she made no sound. So unexpected had -been Ormarr’s intervention that she had hardly realized as yet what had -happened. - -Ormarr held her hands in his. - -“Poor child, it is hard for you, I know. Life is hard. I have learned -something of that myself. Poor child, poor child! But, Runa, you must -trust me ... will you try? I will be kind to you. Perhaps, after all, -you may be glad of the child and I as well. For we must marry, you know; -it is the only thing to do. But only as a matter of form, of course, to -save a scandal. The child will be born in wedlock, and it will be -understood to be mine. No one knows anything as yet; we can go abroad at -once, and stay away a year or so. It is not what you had wished for, I -know, not what you had a right to expect, but—there is no other way now. -As far as _he_ is concerned it is too late.” - -Runa burst into tears, and sat weeping silently, with scarcely a -movement of her face; but her breast heaved violently, and the tears -poured down her cheeks. - -“I know, dear child, it is hard for you; you love him, and me you -neither know nor care for.” - -The girl drew back her hands and wiped her eyes. - -“I hate him,” she said, almost in a whisper. And a moment after, she -added passionately, defiantly. “And I never loved him at all.” - -She threw herself face downwards over the table, sobbing bitterly. - -Ormarr left her to herself for a while. Then going over to her, he -stroked her hair, and tried to comfort her, as one would with a child. -And when she looked up, there was a light in her eyes, of gladness, as -when a child meets kindness from one it loves and respects. - -Tears rose to Ormarr’s eyes; the thought crossed his mind that she might -at that moment be wishing the child were his. And a pang of vague -longing passed through him, such as he had known at times when life had -seemed empty for the lack of one thing. - -As if by one accord, the two avoided each other’s eyes. - -Then resolutely Ormarr threw off his shyness, as if it were a thing to -be ashamed of. He went straight to her, and spoke as calmly as he -could—though his voice quivered a little. - -“Runa, there is nothing else to be done. You must be my wife.” - -“Yes,” she answered. There was nothing of bitterness or regret in her -voice. But she fell to crying again. - -Then said Ormarr: “You will be mistress of Borg, you know, and that -means a big responsibility, and much to look after.” - -She had stopped crying now, and was evidently listening, though she -still hid her face. Ormarr went on: - -“I have finished my work abroad now. When we come back from our journey, -we shall take over the management of Borg. Father is old, and needs -rest. And then it will be for us to see that our child is so brought up -that we can leave the place in good hands after us.” - -Runa sat for a while without speaking; she had stopped crying now. Then -she rose, and carefully dried her eyes to leave no sign of weeping, and -murmured something about it being time for her to go. And then tears -came into her eyes again, and she blushed. - -Ormarr had opened the door, but closed it again and came towards her. - -“Well,” he said, “don’t you think we might shake hands and consider it -settled? That is, unless you would rather have time to think it over? We -could at least promise to give each other the best we can....” Ormarr -could hardly speak, so deeply was he moved. - -Runa gave him her hand—a warm, trembling hand. He pressed it, and let -her go. - -When the door had closed behind her, Ormarr began slowly undressing, -thinking aloud, as was his wont. - -“If life is really only a tiny meaningless flicker, and death the -eternal and constant state, if life is only little indifferent momentary -things, and death the great and boundless, then why all this -complication and suffering? If my soul could perish, could be destroyed -by suffering like the smoke of wood consumed by fire, like the scent of -a flower shed out into space, like a colour that fades in strong -sunlight, then it would surely have become disintegrated long since. Or -are we all figures on a stage? If there were any connecting string -between myself and the gods above, I fancy I should make a first-rate -marionette.” - -He put out the light and got into bed. - -“It is just like me to try and conceal my thoughts from my innermost -self, to breathe a philosophical mist over the windows of my own mind. -If I were to be honest now, I should have to confess something -different. Be honest for once? And confess! Confess that a new, -inexplicable joy had suddenly welled forth within me! - -“Just because I have seen the flush of a soul turned towards my own. And -here I am already building castles in the air, with golden towers of -great anticipation. But, to be honest, I must build here and now, -whether I will or not, and trust that the building may stand.” - -The moonlight shone in over him; he turned his glance towards it and -looked up smiling at the sad, wry face, nodded to it, and then turned -over on his side and fell asleep. - - - - - BOOK II - THE DANISH LADY AT HOF - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -Fru Alma had come to Iceland knowing nothing of the language of the -country. Ketill and his brother had always spoken Danish; it had never -occurred to her that all Icelanders might not understand it. - -When she came to Borg on her first arrival, and met her father-in-law, -who could neither understand her nor speak to her, she realized that -this ignorance on her part would make her lonely and isolated, and she -asked her husband: - -“Why did you not teach me Icelandic, Ketill?” - -But Ketill answered curtly. He was in ill-humour on account of the -failure of his first plans, and his reception generally. - -“Never thought of it,” was all he said. - -Alma, whose womanly instinct had told her at once that all was not as it -should be among the family, glanced anxiously from one to another of -those round her. Then she observed: - -“But I can’t talk to any one.” - -“You can talk to me.” - -Alma was silent. It was the first time her husband had spoken unkindly -to her. - -Later on, as they went home to Hof, Ketill rode in silence, with never a -word to his wife all the way. - -Alma’s heart was full of conflicting emotions. She was sorry that there -should be any coolness between herself and her husband; but her -conscience at least was clear. And why could he not talk to her; tell -her what it was that evidently troubled him? It struck her that he had -never really confided in her, save in regard to matters of no account. - -Suddenly she realized that they were really strangers. She had never -really known him, after all; he had never opened his heart to her. And -the distance between them seemed so tangible that it was hard to realize -that they were actually married. Despite the intimacy of their -relationship, they were separated by a veil of darkness and uncertainty. -And so they were to live, side by side, year after year, bound one to -another by a bond that could not be broken,—ay, and by another that -would soon be evident,—to live in each other’s company through every -day. And the thought was so painful to her that she found herself -unwilling to contemplate that her children would have to call this man -their father. - -The change in her feelings, or more properly, her sudden realization of -the true state of things, the recognition of her thoughtless rashness in -entering upon this marriage, came to her as something overwhelming; she -hardly knew herself. All in a moment she was changed; she was no longer -the light-hearted, innocent girl, but a creature unknown, with unknown -possibilities. - -It was done now, and she was helpless. She had given vent to thoughts -and feelings which, as her old self, she would never have dreamed of. So -unaccustomed was she to act on the dictates of her own feeling and not -by custom and tradition, to measure things by her own ideas and not by -orthodox, accepted standards, that she felt herself now a dangerous -person, a criminal, forced to seek refuge in silence and emptiness from -words or thoughts that might lead to disaster. - -There was her husband now, riding ahead, and paying no heed to how she -managed on the way. Where was the courteous gentleman who had stood by -her side at the altar? And she had told herself—and others—that she had -found the ideal partner for life! A priest, moreover, a servant of God, -set in the forefront of humanity as an example to others! - -Little by little she worked herself up to a state of bitter scorn. Once -she had let herself go, she knew no bounds. - -And she did not spare herself, now that she had once ventured to form -her own judgment of things and people, herself included. - -Oh, what an irresponsible fool she had been in her self-deception! -Trustful and idealistic—yes, and narrow-minded and unwittingly a -hypocrite. A doll, a child, a foolish butterfly thing.... Heavens, how -little and mean and stupid, wicked and ridiculous, she had been—she and -so many others of her kind. - -There was her husband, riding ahead ... yes.... - -A reaction of regret at her impetuosity came over her. It was a dreadful -thing not to love and honour him. Oh, if only he would make it easier; -turn round and nod to her kindly, or say a friendly word. She would be -loving and forgiving at once. Who could say what troubles were burdening -him all the time? And perhaps it was only to spare her that he said -nothing. Men were strange in that way; they fancied that a woman -suffered less in such estrangement if she did not learn the cause of it. - -Then—oh, it was incredible! They were at the ford now, and he was riding -through the stream without so much as a look behind him.... Well, -perhaps there was nothing so strange in that, after all; possibly it had -not occurred to him that she had never forded a stream on horseback in -her life; it was only thoughtlessness on his part. - -But all the same it was a hard struggle to keep her mind in any friendly -attitude towards him, or to keep back the fears that would rise to her -eyes. She bit her lips, and strove to restrain her feelings. - -Her horse was already knee deep in the water—and the Hofsa at this part -was wide, yet with a fairly strong current. - -Alma had never ridden through running water before; at first it seemed -to her as if the horse had suddenly flung itself sideways against the -stream. Instinctively she leaned over herself, farther and farther, -against the stream. Ketill, a couple of lengths in front, looked round -just as she was about to fall, turned his horse, and seized her arm just -in time. - -The roar of the water, and a sense of dizziness in her head, rendered -her unconscious for the moment. But the grip on her arm was hard, and a -feeling of anger rose in her towards her husband. Again she restrained -herself; it was perhaps only his firmness that had saved her; she forgot -about his carelessness in riding ahead of her across the ford. Her -kindly feelings were uppermost, and as soon as they had crossed to the -farther bank, she turned to him, trying honestly to speak in a friendly -tone, and asked: - -“What is it, Ketill; what is the matter with you?” - -“Nothing—nothing,” answered Ketill, and gave his horse a cut with the -whip, so that the animal sprang forward a pace. - -At that, Alma broke down entirely, and fell to sobbing helplessly; she -was weary and desperate, unable to think, or even consciously to feel; -she was alone in a great solitude, herself a solitary speck of misery in -an endless expanse. - - * * * * * - -They reached the vicarage. Alma was now in a state of dull indifference. -She had, however, carefully dried the tears from her face, and drawn -down her veil. - -The vicarage servants, about a score in all, had gathered in front of -the house to welcome the new master and his wife. Ketill was abrupt and -reserved as hitherto; he shook hands with them all, as was the custom of -the country, but his greeting was cold and formal. - -Somewhat unwillingly, Alma laid her slight, warm hand in the first hand -outstretched towards her; but the evident respect and kindly feeling -with which it was taken touched her at once, and she grasped it with -sincere feeling. And the ice once broken, she was able to greet each of -the simple, silent folk with unfeigned heartiness. She could not -understand their stammered words, but her own manner spoke for itself, -and one old woman, the last to come forward, was so touched by the -natural kindliness of the fine lady from foreign parts, that she forgot -herself so far as to put one arm around her shoulder and kiss her on the -cheek. - -Alma felt herself trembling, and could hardly restrain her tears. -Leaning on the old woman’s arm, she passed into the house. - -Ketill gave some brief orders, and the servants dispersed. But even this -first encounter had been enough to plant in the heart of each of them a -seed of ill-will towards their master, and affection towards the Danish -lady he had brought with him as his wife. - - * * * * * - -The old woman led Alma into the low-ceilinged sitting-room and left her. -Neither could understand the other’s speech, and she had judged it best -to retire. - -Alma sat down on a chair just inside the door, still wearing her -riding-habit and veil, and looked round the room. It was painted white, -with four heavy beams across the ceiling. The two windows at one end of -the room were already hung with heavy winter curtains above the white. -The furniture was of polished mahogany. The floor was carpeted, and a -heavy old-fashioned stove was built into the centre of one wall. A big -upright clock ticked monotonously, with a beat as cold and devoid of -feeling as the utterance of a philosopher whom nothing on earth could -move. There was a sense of comfort about the general atmosphere of the -room, yet it had, as is often the case with rooms antiquely furnished, a -touch of aloofness, forbidding the introduction of any other tone, or at -least dominating others by its own. - -Close to one of the windows Alma noticed a large writing-table and a -bookshelf; that seemed familiar. And suddenly she realized that the room -was to be not hers alone, but her husband’s also. Probably he had no -study of his own in the house. And a feeling of bitterness crept into -her heart; the room seemed less inviting now. - -She rose, and crossed to the window farthest from the writing-desk, -where there stood a small work-table. Here she sat down in an -easy-chair, still without taking off her things, and looked out of the -window. Outside was a small plot of potatoes and turnips, hedged in with -the remains of a rhubarb bed, against the high bank which sheltered the -garden on the north. The windows faced south-west, looking on to the -bleak, high field beyond the enclosure. Behind the vicarage towered the -Hof Mountains, hanging threateningly, as it were, above the place; -farther in the distance were blue-grey peaks and ridges. It was all so -strange to her that now, looking at it calmly, it seemed unreal, -incredible. - -Alma turned cold at heart as she looked. She remembered her first survey -of the landscape earlier in the day, from Borg; she had found nothing -green in it all save the sea. All the meadows and pastures round the -house seemed withered and grey; the autumn green of the fields in -Denmark was nowhere to be seen. All things seemed barren and decayed, -with a grey pallor, as it were, of something nearing death, that she had -seen before only in aged humanity. Here, she perceived, autumn was a -reality, and not merely a passing phase to be taken lightly. Most of the -houses, small and low, were built of turf and stone together. And the -separate buildings of each homestead seemed to creep in close to one -another, keeping as close to the ground as possible, like a flock of -animals cowering before an approaching storm. - -The impression it made on her then, of impending disaster, of something -evil lying in wait, had vanished as quickly as it had come; she had not -had time to dwell on it. But now it recurred to her mind, and she felt -herself surrounded by coldness and enmity on all sides—until she -remembered the greetings of the servants, and the old woman who had -ushered her in to the house. The kindness they had shown to her, alone -and helpless as she was, seemed like a protecting circle round her. And -easier in mind for the thought, she fell to pondering how she could best -learn their language quickly, that she might at least find some kind -words for them in return. - -While she was thus engaged, her husband entered. - -She glanced at his face; anxious first of all to learn if he were still -in the same ill-humour as before. The light was fading, but she could -see that his expression was cold and hard, that of a stranger. Her heart -beat violently; she sat without a word. - -Ketill hardly gave her so much as a glance; he walked up and down the -room once or twice, as if in thought, then stood by the window farthest -from her, looking out. After a while, he drew a deep breath, and came -towards her. His brow was lined, and his face stern, but there appeared -nevertheless to be some attempt at friendliness in his bearing—as if to -show that she at least was not the cause of his ill-temper. - -“Well here we are, at home!” - -“Yes.” - -Alma’s heart throbbed painfully, but he did not notice her emotion—only -that she had not taken off her riding things. - -“Haven’t you got your things off yet?” - -“You have not bidden me welcome yet, Ketill.” - -“Oh, I forgot. Never mind, don’t worry about that.” - -“No, no.... Forgotten, did you say? Ketill, I hardly know you again.” - -“Whatever do you mean by that? One can’t always be in the best of -tempers, I suppose?” - -“No, perhaps not. But—it seems a strange homecoming, that’s all.” - -Ketill was silent. He had no reply to offer, and the conversation bored -him. He was curiously indifferent to Alma’s feeling of well-being or the -reverse. What was she, after all? A child, thoughtless, ignorant, like -all women—and most men too, for that matter. She was out of sorts just -now—never mind, she would have forgotten it by tomorrow. At any rate, he -could make it all right again then; perhaps he might feel more in the -mood for paying attention to her troubles. Ketill was thinking in this -strain when Alma spoke again. - -“It is strange that you should be so different now, all at once. It -almost seems as if our marriage had separated us rather than brought us -together.” - -Ketill had no time now to bother about whether there were any truth in -this or not: no, the only thing to do was to smile in a superior fashion -and not let himself be put out. And he smiled accordingly, the -self-satisfied smile of a priest and a model husband, setting aside his -bad temper for the moment, and said: - -“There, there, little philosopher—let us put off the quarrel till -another day.” - -“Quarrel? Oh, I had never thought to quarrel. I’m only unhappy, that’s -all.” - -“Well, don’t you think it might be reasonable to imagine that I had some -reason for being—well, not in the best of tempers today—what?” - -“Yes, indeed, Ketill. But you have told me nothing; I know nothing of -what could have upset you.” - -“Well, hardly. Women don’t understand men’s troubles as a rule.” - -“That seems a new sort of thing for you to say.” - -“Possibly. We’ve hardly known each other long enough for me to have told -you everything I think.” - -“True, we have not known each other so very long. I only hope we may not -find we knew too little of each other.” - -Ketill laughed; to his mind, the question was not worth taking so -seriously. - -“Well, you’ve certainly grown less of a child and more of a woman—more -of a married woman—than you were.” - -But Alma found it utterly impossible to fall in with his tone. - -“I am tired, Ketill. I should like to go to bed.” - -“Already! Well, well, perhaps it’s the best thing you could do.” - -He walked to the door, opened it, and called down the passage: “Kata!” - -The old woman who had first shown Alma in, answered his call, and Ketill -charged her briefly to show her mistress upstairs; she was unwell, and -would go to bed at once. - -Old Kata led her mistress to the bedroom above. She could not overcome -the awkwardness caused by the impossibility of speech, but did her best -to make up for it by kindly looks and gestures. - -She would have withdrawn again at once, but Alma held her back, made her -sit down on a chair by the bed, and tried to talk to her, repeating -little phrases again and again till they were understood. Kata seemed -willing enough, and did her best to understand; she would have liked to -explain that she and all the others had already taken to their new -mistress, and were anxious to do all they could for her. It was a marvel -to Kata that a fine lady could be so natural and sweet and -condescending. All that she had seen before of that sort had been proud -and stiff and disdainful towards humble folk. - -She tried to relate a dream she had had the night before about a burning -light washed up by the waves, on the shore just below. Old Kata was a -poor enough creature to look at, but by no means poor in spirit. She had -her own world of visions and dreams, and was mistress there. And she -would not speak to all and sundry of her dreams; but folk knew she had -the gift, and could see what she would and learn what she pleased. - -Kata was sure that the light she had seen was the _fylgje_, the -attendant spirit, of the young Danish lady. Kata always saw a person’s -_fylgje_ before she encountered the person in reality, and she had -rarely seen so beautiful a _fylgje_ as this. For what could be more -beautiful than a burning light? A burning light in the darkness. And she -was accustomed also to interpret and say what such things meant. But -here she could not. A burning light in the darkness—what could that -mean? Something good, something beautiful it must be. And the person it -followed must be a good and lovable soul. - - * * * * * - -Later that evening, the servants sat talking things over together before -going to bed. They spoke of their Danish mistress, and gathered round -old Kata, who, of course, had first claim to speak with authority here. - -“Anyway, she’s a good heart,” said one of the men. - -“And not too proud to take humble folks’ hand—as she did my very own.” - -Old Kata let them talk; she could afford to be silent. Her turn would -surely come. She had had most to do with their mistress up to now, and, -moreover, she was recognized as the wisest head in the place—not -excepting any priest. She sat now with her knitting, considering it -beneath her dignity to take notice of all that was said. - -Moreover, she had already expressed her opinion, in the most favourable -terms, and as the others likewise had nothing but praise to utter, there -was no call for her to take further part. - -“Anyway, I’m certain she won’t be as hard and cruel as the last one was, -with her scolding and words,” said one of the maids. “What say you, -Kata?” - -“She’s the blessedest light I’ve met in all my days,” answered Kata -quietly, and a trifle slowly, as was her way. “There’s never an evil -thought in her soul, nor a hard word in her mouth. And that’s the -truth.” - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Sera Ketill went late to bed that night. By ill chance it was Saturday, -and he had to have his sermon ready for the morrow. - -On this occasion, above all, it behoved him to take some pains with it. -It was his first service, and there would be a large and expectant -congregation. - -Nevertheless, he did not feel at all in the mood for dealing with his -text: “Ye cannot serve two masters.” - -He felt a sudden bitterness of regret that he had ever decided to become -a priest. Had he but chosen any other profession—a lawyer, a doctor, -even a trader! Then he would have been able at least to avenge his -defeats indirectly, by letting others suffer for them. Just think, for -instance, of the satisfaction with which he could have taken up the task -of passing sentence upon some one or other, instead of pointing out the -inadvisability, nay, the impossibility, of serving two masters. He -wished he could have altered the text, and held forth, for instance, -upon the abomination of desolation, or the Day of Judgment. But it could -not be done; the text was of serving two masters, and nothing could -alter it. And he had to have a good strong sermon on that text by -tomorrow, or his first appearance would be a failure. He was not -disposed to risk further defeats after the ill-success of his plans -today. He needed the encouragement of a victory, and must take it where -it seemed most easily attainable. - -He thought of his changed position; all things had turned out badly up -to now. His castles in the air; his dreams of power—unlimited power—in -the parish, had, he could already perceive, faded into nothing. And -suddenly it struck him that he had only to give vent to his own -bitterness, directing it into the proper channel, and there was his -sermon! - -It took time, and it was late before his manuscript was finished. But as -he contemplated it, noting with satisfaction the finishing touches, he -felt assured that here at least was a masterpiece; he had only to -deliver it with forceful and earnest eloquence, and it must have its -effect. He had regained his self-control, and was ready to forget all -the disappointment of the day in sleep. - - * * * * * - -Alma awoke early next morning. - -She dressed in haste, and as quietly as possible, anxious not to awaken -her husband, and with some difficulty found her way through the passages -and out of the house. - -She stood for a little outside. It was a quiet autumn day; the air -seemed full of a strange peace and solemn calm. Being Sunday, there were -none of the people astir, save those busy within doors in stables or -kitchen, and of these she saw nothing. - -Alma wandered round the place, making a survey of her surroundings. The -buildings, with their turf roofs and solid walls of the same material, -seemed pleasant enough to the eye, giving a sense of security in their -massive solidity. They seemed as firmly rooted and immovable as if -Nature and the Lord had planted them in the earth when earth was made. - -She looked about for the church, but could see none. The tarred wooden -structure yonder, with a turf wall round, could surely not be it—and -yet, on closer inspection, she noticed a white cross rising from the -roof. With a curious beating of the heart, she hurried across to the -gate in the earthen wall. Reaching it, she found that the church stood -in the middle of a modest little churchyard. She opened the gate and -went in. Most of the graves were simply oblong mounds of earth, only -here and there was there a headstone with the usual border round. And -there were a few wooden crosses with lettering in black tar. - -The church itself was locked. She walked round the outside, and looked -in through one of the windows, of which there were three on either side. -The interior was painted white. At one end stood the altar, on a small -semicircular eminence, with a low rail round. Next to it were the choir -stalls, consisting of a few benches along the walls and some loose ones -arranged to allow of passage between. On the right, looking down the -nave, was the pulpit, with painted figures of apostles on the panels, -evidently older than the church itself. There was a small harmonium, -polished and new-looking—the contrast made Alma smile. But she regretted -it at once; the feeling of amusement at this primitive lack of taste -which installed a brand-new cheap-line harmonium in an old church, -disappeared. She felt that God’s all-seeing eye was on her as she stood -there spying in through a window at His house. - -Looking around for somewhere to sit down a little, she noticed that the -churchyard wall on one side was low, and went across. On her way she -passed a grave on which stood a small pillar of grey granite, the upper -part broken off obliquely. She stopped, and half unconsciously read the -inscription. Between the Christian name and surname stood the word -_skald_. She passed on, wondering in her mind what the little word might -mean, but gave it up, and soon forgot it. - -Seating herself on the churchyard wall, she let her eyes wander over the -country round, noting how the sun shone on the fjord and on the farther -side of the valley, leaving a strip of shadow on the fjeld. And a -feeling of longing rose in her breast. It was strange to see the sun -shining on others, and herself be left in the shadow. It seemed as if -there were joy there, beyond—joy in which she had no part, and which -saddened her to watch. And it was not only today, not merely the shadow -of a passing cloud that barred her from the sunlight; no, there stood -the fjeld, the dark and massive, rocky height, that day after day was to -steal the sunlight from her life. She felt that there was enmity between -them—but a moment later she realized that the dark church and the gloomy -fjeld were in harmony; and that God was in and over both. - -Strange—ever since she had set foot in this place, she had felt the -presence of God distinctly; a blind omnipotence, of merciless mercy—she -hardly knew how to define it. God was not so distant in these -surroundings as He had first appeared. The snow-white sides of the fjeld -were pure and good to look upon; they might well be the abode of God. -The country itself, in all its outlines, shapes, and colours, was so -wild and unlike all else that it seemed impossible to regard it as -inhabited by human beings only, with their petty trials and pleasures. -It was impossible, here, to attach great importance to one’s own -well-being or the reverse; one felt so pitifully small and weak. Even -life and death seemed to lose their distinctive outline. - -Alma caught herself thinking—and she smiled at the thought—that she had -grown, and grown wiser since her arrival, all in the space of a day and -a night. She felt now, to a degree almost beyond reason, that she was -but a speck in eternity, only a ripple on the endless sea of time. - - * * * * * - -Ketill found his wife deep in thought, seated on the churchyard wall. -She had not heard him approaching, and started when he touched her. - -With a sudden access of tenderness, he took her in his arms and kissed -her. - -She made no resistance, though she resented the action inwardly. His -strength and the physical charm of the man that had once attracted her -were now grown repulsive. - -Ketill noted that his wife looked serious. It suited her, and he stroked -her hair. - -“Sitting here all alone?” he asked. - -“I was just looking round the place. One could sit here for years, I -think, without getting tired of it. I wish I were a rock—set in a place -like this for ever!” - -Sera Ketill laughed. “I must say I prefer existence as a human being,” -he said. - -“But it is lovely here,” Alma went on. “So grand and wonderful—the rocks -and the sea and the snow spreading everywhere, and the desolate -fields—barrenness and abundance at once. It is like looking at the stars -in the sky—emptiness and yet so rich....” - -“A bit of good rich pasture land would be more to my taste,” objected -Ketill teasingly. - -“I suppose it would. Really, I think I feel more at home here than you -do yourself.” - -“Well, I’m glad you do not find the country altogether forbidding. Many -people do, you know.” - -“Forbidding? I feel as if I were under a spell. No will of my own, just -a thing in the hands of Fate. And I love the feeling that there are -great and distant powers that have taken my life into their hands.” - -“You had better be careful, or you will be growing superstitious—it is a -common failing among the people here. They believe in all kinds of -spirits, portents, omens, fate, and all that sort of thing. Look at that -gravestone there—the one with the granite pillar. A young poet was -buried there. Somehow the top of the stone got broken off. And folk lay -it to the charge of the powers of darkness—he killed himself, you know.” - -“Yes.... A broken soul beneath a broken stone....” - -“I don’t think the powers of darkness trouble themselves much about the -gravestones in our churchyards.” - -“A poet, you say? And he killed himself? How—why?” - -“Threw himself over the cliff into the sea. You can see the spot—over -there. It falls sheer down into the fjord.” - -Alma looked and shuddered. A white wave broke the surface of the water, -and dashed against the cliff. - -“But why?” - -“Nobody seems to know quite. They say it was something outside the usual -causes—not starvation, for instance, or love or weariness of life.” - -“Nobody knows? And yet he threw himself into the sea? Then it must have -been a call from on high. He realized the presence of God, and followed -it, into darkness and death.” - -“Alma, whatever are you talking about!” - -“I hardly know myself. The words came into my mouth without a thought. -And I feel myself thinking strange things that never entered my head -before.” And she laughed, a little nervous laugh. “It is as if the -spirit were upon me, and I had to speak so.” - -At this Ketill suddenly felt called upon to play the priest. Though, as -a matter of fact, he was rather impressed by her words. - -“Alma, that is blasphemy, you know.” - -“Not at all.” She looked up in surprise. “I simply feel as if the Spirit -of God were moving on the face of the waters, and as if I were a piece -of dead clay, waiting to be created as a human being.” - - * * * * * - -By half-past nine, the congregation began to appear, coming up in little -groups. Many were on horseback. - -Alma was outside the house, and it seemed as if the place had suddenly -become alive. Little knots of people came into view here and there, far -or near, appearing and disappearing between the contours of the -landscape. Nearly all were hurrying. - -Reaching the church, they dismounted in groups, as they had come, -tethering their horses near by. They were unsaddled, and some were -merely hobbled and allowed to wander about at will. The churchgoers then -set to tidying themselves before the service: pulling off the long -riding hose, brushing dirt and hair from their clothes, unpacking -collars or aprons, and fastening bows with careful neatness. - -Then, having completed their toilet, they began to move about, -exchanging greetings and news, collecting in new formations and changing -again. A few spoke noisily, but for the most part they talked in an -undertone, with much nodding of heads and brief ejaculations. - -Alma was a centre of attraction, though most of the curious ones tried -to conceal their interested observation. A few of the principal farmers -and their wives, knowing who she must be, came up to greet her, but with -some awkwardness, when they found she could not understand their speech. -And they withdrew to the company of their fellows. - -Ørlygur à Borg came alone. - -Alma went up to her father-in-law, who smiled and took her hand, -flushing like a youth, and with that curious kindly smile of his -lighting up the furrowed face. He was looking better, she thought, than -he had done the day before. - -She took his arm, and would have led him into the house, but he shook -his head, and nodded in the direction of the church, where the bell was -now ringing in. Most of the congregation were already seated, only a few -late comers were hastening up. Among them was old Kata. She thought -herself unobserved, and waved a coloured kerchief in the air, muttering -to herself: “Away, be off with you, cursed creatures; get away, wicked -things.” - -The bystanders imagined she was addressing invisible beings, evil -spirits and demons,—the _fylgjer_ of those present,—whom she had to -drive away to make a passage for herself. - -Alma entered the church with Ørlygur, leaning on his arm up the aisle. -This was not customary except in the case of bride and bridegroom, but -she knew no better. Ørlygur was somewhat embarrassed, but he felt -happier than he had done for many a day; not for any consideration would -he have withdrawn his arm. - -He found her a seat next to his own sitting, but did not take that place -himself. As the first layman in the parish he had duties to perform; he -led the singing, and Alma noticed that it was the organ that followed -his lead, not the reverse. She also remarked that his voice was -surprisingly strong and pure for his years. - -In the responses, however, he faltered a little; possibly, thought Alma, -from nervousness on account of the fact that his son was officiating for -the first time. A little after, she noticed a frown on his brow, lines -that had not been there before, or at least not so marked. And it -crossed her mind that Ørlygur à Borg was not on friendly terms with his -son Ketill—there must be some good cause for it.... - -Already she seemed to have grown to love this old man, with his -snow-white hair and beard, and the look of strength and yet of Christian -kindliness in his face. Her eyes wandered from one to another of those -present, old and young. - -Many were better dressed than Ørlygur, who wore a suit of brown homespun -material, his jacket buttoned up round the neck, and a pair of soft hide -shoes on his feet. Many of the others wore collars and polished boots, -yet it was easy to see that this man was the leader—the born master of -his fellows, to whom all others must defer. Not that there was anything -overbearing in his manner, far from it. He nodded to one and all, and -they returned his greeting without servility, but with ungrudging -respect as towards a superior whom they esteemed. - -Ørlygur sat with bowed head and expressionless features throughout the -sermon. But Alma could see that the people generally were carried away. -And when the service was at an end, they gathered round Ørlygur and -Ketill to offer their congratulations. Ørlygur, however, made no reply -to their words of praise, only thanked them briefly. Shortly after, he -took leave of Alma, shaking his head in response to her invitation to -the house. She saw him go up to Ketill, who was standing in the middle -of a group of peasants, and address a few words to him, whereupon both -men walked away to where Ørlygur’s horse was standing. - - * * * * * - -“Ketill, I must have a word with you,” said Ørlygur to his son. - -And as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest he went on. - -“Do not speak; do not dare to say a word! Listen! You are a scoundrel -and a rogue. Your sermon was hypocrisy, and inspired by something -certainly not divine. You can deceive these poor folk, maybe, but you -can no longer deceive me. I cannot imagine what use the Lord has for -such a man as you—that He ever let you into His vineyard at all. And I -cannot understand what Fate ever led that angel yonder to become your -wife. How her beautiful eyes could fail to see through you—’tis more -than I can fathom. Her will is for good—and yours for evil. Ay, you may -smile! You are a hypocrite—a ne’er-do-well. But you are the priest of -this parish, more’s the pity, and married to a good and beautiful -girl—also, you are my son. I can only warn you to be careful. And I have -this to tell you: Ormarr is taking over the estate of Borg; he has sold -his business. And he is to marry Runa, my adopted daughter; they are -going abroad at once. When Ormarr dies, Borg goes to _their_ -children—you understand me? I would advise you to be good to your wife. -Should I hear otherwise, then God have mercy upon you. For her sake I -will continue my duties in the church as before, hateful though it is to -me to endure the sight of you. For her sake I pray that God will give me -strength. Even now I cannot set foot in your house. Make what excuse you -please to your wife; let her be spared from knowing the truth; bring her -to Borg occasionally yourself. I would not see her suffer for your sins. -And now I have spoken my mind.” - -Ørlygur à Borg turned on his heel, mounted his horse, and rode off. - - * * * * * - -Sera Ketill had endeavoured once or twice to smile during his father’s -outburst, but it was more for the sake of preserving his self-control -that he had tried to consider the matter in a humourous light. As -Ørlygur rode away, he stood with bowed head, set teeth, and frowning -brow; then with an effort he pulled himself together, striving to regain -his normal air of priestly authority. - -When, a few minutes later, he encountered Alma, he said: - -“My father was very busy, and could not come in. He told me to give you -his kind regards. Ormarr is leaving tomorrow—going abroad, so they have -much to do at Borg.” - -“So that is why Ormarr did not come to church?” - -“Yes, naturally.” - -“But surely he will come and say good-bye?” - -“It is hardly likely. He is only going away for a short time, and when -he comes back he will live at Borg.” - -“It will be nice to have him so near. But what about his business?” - -“He has sold it, so my father tells me. As a matter of fact, this voyage -is a sort of honeymoon. He is going to marry Runa, father’s adopted -daughter, and she is going with him. We did not see her yesterday.” - -“But it seems strange—not to pay a farewell visit.” - -Ketill smiled sarcastically. “I should not expect it,” he said. “It is -not the custom in this country.” - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -For the next few days Sera Ketill went about with a preoccupied air. He -was trying to weigh the situation and settle his plans. - -If his father and Ormarr had thought he would give up the struggle -without protest, they were mistaken. He would not allow himself to be -crushed. If they asked for war, they should have it. True, everything -seemed to favour them at present, but on the other hand, the odds -absolved him, he considered, from any obligation to be overscrupulous in -his choice of weapons. All’s fair in love and war. - -He remembered, with something like regret, the pleasant spring evenings -when he had wandered side by side with Runa, enjoying a brief -flirtation. Happy days—with nothing but the pleasure of the moment to -consider. He had no longings to plague him, having all that he desired. -He imagined himself in love with the shy, dreamy child who trusted -herself so unreservedly to him. It had cost him something to leave her, -but, nevertheless, something within him told him that he must; that he -could not go on enjoying one idle, happy phase, but must move forward to -a new and more strenuous one, that promised in return greater rewards -for greater strife. - -And, once he had left her, Runa had passed from his mind entirely; all -that was left of her was a vague memory, the recollection of one of his -minor adventures, a careless day of sunshine in his past. He had never -thought she would cross his path again; it had never once occurred to -him to write to her. He regretted his thoughtlessness now. If he had -kept up a kind of correspondence with her, he might have used his -influence over the girl to some purpose. Anyhow, it was fortunate that -the incident had turned out as it had. No scandal—not a soul to fear. He -could be quite easy on that score, for it was in the interest of the -other party that nothing should leak out. And, with a little deft -manipulation on his part, the hushing up of the matter might even prove -a most useful weapon in his hand. Again, all was fair in love and war. - -On the whole, his position was not so bad. He had made a good match, and -his wife had considerable expectations in addition to her present -fortune. Yes, he would be able to look after himself. Ormarr might take -over the estate—for a time. But he who laughs last, laughs best. When -all was said and done, his father and brother had not yet got him into -their power; he had his congregation, and his position gave him an -excellent opportunity to influence public opinion. Meantime, he would -take care to win them over by his powers of persuasion generally, and -gradually make them his faithful adherents. - -The old man had been furious on Sunday; he had probably been far from -appreciating his son’s talents as a preacher. But he would know how to -lash the old man’s feelings with his words from the pulpit; he would -reach farther and cut deeper than any other had done before. No fanciful -theology, but argument backed by chapter and verse from the Scriptures. -There could be no question of defence or refutation; it would be -pleasant to see Ørlygur à Borg writhing under the interpretations of the -Old Testament delivered by his son. Ay, he would show them that a priest -was a man to be feared, an enemy not to be lightly challenged. - -Sera Ketill was already elated with thoughts of his victory to come. He -drew up far-reaching plans, and began at once to con the doctrines of -the Church in his mind—as weapons to be used in his campaign against his -father and brother. - - * * * * * - -Alma was left very much to herself; her husband had little time to spare -for entertaining her. When he was not busy with his sermons, he was -occupied out of doors. - -The cattle were brought in for water, and the sheep called down from the -mountain pastures where they had grazed throughout the summer. Their -numbers had to be checked, according to the list prepared when they had -first gone out, to see if any were missing. Then came the question as to -how many should be kept during the winter. The hay in the lofts was -measured out in horse-loads; one sheep needed but a single horse-load -for the whole winter, this being eked out by the winter grazing grounds, -which gave a certain amount of feed each year, on the hillsides or down -by the shore. A cow, on the other hand, would need forty horse-loads, -whereas a horse could manage with ten. All these and other details had -to be considered. - -Then came the killing season, and large droves of sheep were sent off, -either direct to the slaughter-houses or to the market. - -There were repairs to be undertaken, buildings and outhouses to be seen -to; altogether, there were many things which claimed Sera Ketill’s -attention, and often his personal supervision, especially the sale and -slaughtering of the stock. - -Indoors, too, there was much to be done; supplies of dried, preserved, -and pickled provisions were invariably laid in for each winter. - -Alma herself had not much to do. When it was fine enough she went for -long walks; otherwise, she spent most of her time reading or sewing. Now -and again she would go out into the kitchen, and try to talk to the -maids. When Kata was at liberty, Alma sought her company, either in the -kitchen or in the sitting-room. Kata preferred the former; it seemed to -her a mark of favouritism to be invited into the inner rooms. Alma had -come to appreciate highly the old woman’s straightforward earnestness -and her power of maintaining discipline when necessary, and old Kata had -no greater wish than to do all in her power for her young mistress. She -carried out her duties faithfully, and saw to it that the other servants -did the same. - -Alma had thus plenty of time to consider her own position. But it was a -difficult matter to arrive at any clear conclusion out of the maze of -moods and fancies that filled her mind. - -At times she even thought of returning home to her people, but only for -a moment. She felt she would never be able to take up the threads of her -old life again. And indeed, from a practical point of view, it seemed -impossible. What would her husband say to such a step? Moreover, she -would probably be having a child before long. - -Apart from these considerations, however, she could hardly bring herself -to leave the country; it had made a powerful impression on her from the -first, and she felt herself strangely under its spell. Here, at least, -she could live, even if she had to renounce all idea of any happiness in -her domestic life with her husband. If she went away now, she felt that -a part of her being would be left behind; to live elsewhere would be -spiritless, intolerable. - -She bore with resignation the shattering of her dreams of love, and made -no attempt to deceive herself with ideas of a future reconciliation. -Love, she felt, would play no further part in her life; when she -endeavoured to sound her feelings on this point, she found herself -coldly indifferent. Her conscience was in no way hurt by her attitude -towards her husband; it could not be otherwise, since he on his part -seemed to have no longer any pleasure in the possession of her, -regarding her merely as a chattel he had acquired. - -She even went so far as to imagine that he had never loved her, but only -pretended to do so, and had only won her by sheer selfish calculation. -In the days of their courtship, such a thought had never entered her -mind; but now, disappointment had driven all love away, leaving only a -sense of injury. - -Chiefly dominant, however, was the sense of indifference; Alma had -almost become a fatalist. Sorrows and disappointments were things to be -taken as they came, and stacked aside, as a card-player lays aside the -tricks he has taken, or a miser packs away his treasures. All -unknowingly, she was gradually developing in herself something of the -essential character of the country that had so impressed her; so it was -that the snow gathered and hung on the mountain-side, ever more and -more, until it crashed down in an avalanche, burying houses and men, or -sweeping them out to sea. So also in the heart of the volcanoes molten -stuff was gathered slowly—to burst forth one day and spread death and -desolation abroad. And human beings might do as they, gathering slowly -the force that, suddenly loosed, should change their destinies. - - * * * * * - -Autumn spread its heavy tones over the land, persistent, yet ever -changing. - -There were grey, wet days, when all things were obliterated under masses -of rain. Then violent storms, when window-frames and houses rattled and -shook, and the dust was whirled in huge yellow clouds. Haystacks were -caught in the whirlwind, tumbledown cottages demolished; even the -strongest men were at times obliged to move on all fours over the hills, -to avoid being swept over some precipice. Boats along the shore were -crushed like egg-shells; there were sad days for the fisherfolk. - -Sometimes the elements seemed to be resting, leaving the weather calm -and mild; at other times there would be days of shifting light and -shade, of scurrying clouds and sudden hailstorms that left white streaks -along the hillsides where they passed. - -The days were growing shorter; everywhere the advance of darkness made -itself felt, like a mighty bass in the autumnal choir, relieved by the -clear treble of the stars and the northern lights. - -Alma spent the long evenings at home for the most part, busy with her -own thoughts. There was little interchange of words between her and her -husband. They seemed separated by a gulf of silence; Ketill, apparently, -found nothing distressing in the fact. It was convenient to have a wife -who was quiet, and did not bother him. But Alma felt as if they lived in -different worlds, with but the slightest link between them. - -Sometimes the fact that they were married—and the intimacies which alone -declared it—seemed to her so tragically humourous that she had to bite -her lips lest she should break out into bitter laughter. - -The autumn nights had a depressing effect on her mind, filling her with -a consuming pain—a deep and intolerable longing for some one in whose -heart she had a place, though but the merest little corner, where she -could feel at rest. - -At milking-time, about ten o’clock, she could be sure of finding old -Kata in the cowshed. And often she would steal out to her there, -watching the old woman at work in the dim light. Old Kata knew that her -mistress might be coming, and sent off Kobbi, the old cowman, for a jug, -which was filled straight from the udder,—an especial piece of -consideration on the part of Kata,—and the three would sit talking -together as best they could. The two old folk had already taught their -mistress something of the language, enough at any rate for her to -understand them, and now and again put in a word herself. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -Time rolled on. - -The autumn nights grew longer; the days dwindled to a few hours’ feeble -light. - -Winter was near at hand. - -Then came the snow. First one night, when all was still. There it lay -next morning, a soft, white sheet spread out under a blue-tinted sky. -All the earth seemed silent as in church, at the hour of meditation. And -when any sound broke the stillness, its echo seemed to dwell in the ear -for longer than usual, dying away slowly, as if loth to depart. - -The wind came, levelling the snow to fill the hollows of the ground; -then more snow, then rain, and then frost; winter was come in earnest, -come to stay. Heavy, murky clouds shed their burden of snow, but passed -away again; winter had many aspects and was never one thing for long at -a time. Westerly winds flung the snow hither and thither, mountain -torrents rushed down on their way to the sea. And then suddenly, in the -midst of all this wild confusion, would come calm, clear nights, of -ghostly quiet, no sound to be heard save the murmur of the sea, like -beating of the wings of time. - -And men lived on, under the heavy yoke of winter. It seemed as if the -winter itself were ever trying to foist itself upon them, claiming -acknowledgment of its presence. It set its mark upon the window-panes, -thrust itself at them through the cracks of doors; but they strove to -keep it out, thawing the pictures on their windows, bundling the snow -from their thresholds with scant ceremony, even with abuse. No wonder -that the winter turned spiteful at times, lying in wait for men and -leading them astray in storms, luring them to destruction in some -concealed ravine where their last breath could be offered up as a -sacrifice upon its altar. It was but reasonable so. - -This winter, the Hofsfjordur folk had little time to spare for -contemplation of the usual struggle; they took the necessary steps for -their protection, but their minds were largely occupied with other -matters. - -There was the new priest, Sera Ketill, son of the mighty King of -Borg—and he gave them food for thought in abundance. From his first -sermon, he had made his influence felt, chiefly, perhaps, through his -eloquence and the depth of feeling he seemed to display. Then, later, it -became evident that there was a certain tendency in his discourses; his -arguments pointed towards some conclusion, though what this was could -hardly be seen as yet. His masterly treatment of his texts revealed an -iron will, that had evidently set itself some great and difficult task. - -Sera Ketill revealed himself as a fanatic, stern and merciless in his -interpretations and demands. He appeared as an idealist, looking ever -toward the goal of perfection, which he seemed to regard as undoubtedly -attainable. In his judgments and castigation he was unrelenting as a -Jesuit; his doctrine was clear and hard, admitting of no compromise: if -the eye offended, pluck it out; if the offending hand were nearer and -dearer than all else, there was still no way but one—cut it off and cast -it from thee. Thus Sera Ketill taught his flock. - -Sunday after Sunday the church was full; week by week Sera Ketill knit -more closely the bond between his parishioners and himself. At first -they admired him, but it was not long before they came to love him. What -had been, was forgotten; he was their priest now. All knew that Ormarr -was to inherit Borg after his father, and it was not difficult to -forgive Ketill for having, in earlier days, cherished other hopes. -Plainly he had himself been the first to mortify the flesh, and put away -his own worldly desires. And who should call him to account for any -youthful indiscretions? After all, perhaps he had not been serious in -his reputed intention of discontinuing the benign and considerate rule -that had been a tradition of the Borg family towards those round them. -His sternness in matters spiritual, on the other hand, was -unimpeachable; it showed his earnest desire for the welfare of their -souls, and those who followed his precepts were happy in so doing, even -though it cost them something to break with the old easy-going ways. -Conscience needed to be kept awake and sensitive. And it was not -altogether unpleasant to come to church and be rated and stormed at for -all backslidings; one sat listening with beating heart, subject to an -emotion which Sera Ketill’s predecessor had certainly never had power to -call forth. The wearisome homilies of the old days, full of spiritless -and superficial argument, had made it hard for them to keep decorously -awake. But now, it was a different atmosphere altogether. “Thou shalt -love the Lord thy God with all thine heart.” Also, “Thou shalt love thy -neighbour as thyself.” But hence it followed that one should tolerate -nothing in one’s neighbour that would not be tolerated in oneself. “For -I the Lord thy God am a jealous God,” ay, jealous even towards His -children. Wherefore it behoved them to adopt a similar attitude towards -those around them. Wheresoever anything became apparent which was not in -the spirit of God, let them rise up and denounce it; if they suffered -any among them to look with scorn, or even with indifference, upon the -Holy Word, then they themselves were guilty. And for such sinners there -was nothing but everlasting damnation; the Scriptures had declared it -plainly. - -Sera Ketill’s doctrine admitted but two alternatives—either heaven or -hell. - -And he did not confine his teachings to the pulpit. His eyes were -everywhere, and as often as he discovered anything among his flock that -was not according to his teaching, he was ready with word and deed. And -he brooked no resistance—he spoke in the name of the Lord. Illegitimate -relationships that had gone on for years were ordered to be legalized; -it was not an uncommon thing for an old couple who had never been -properly married to appear in church for the ceremony with their -grown-up children as witnesses. A fever of zeal spread from the vicarage -throughout the parish. True, there were occasional murmurings from those -who were called upon to mend their ways, but even they felt the power of -this new influence in their hearts. And little by little the flock was -led into the paths of righteousness. - -First and foremost, Sera Ketill demanded of his congregation that they -should attend regularly for worship in God’s House, where, by hearing of -the Word, their hearts might be opened to receive the Lord. Anything -beyond a single Sunday’s absence called forth a visit and a reproof for -neglect. Thus it was not long before Sera Ketill became the unquestioned -leader of the parish, acknowledged by all. - -Among the poorer folk he gained great popularity by foregoing his right -of grazing on their land; here was an example near to hand of the -self-denial he preached. Such a thing had hardly been heard of before. -Plainly, Sera Ketill was one who himself lived up to his principles. - -His judgment was taken as infallible, any decision on his part was to -them as if inspired by the Almighty. And week by week they grew more and -more dependent upon him; every Sunday he whittled away some portion of -the spiritual independence they had hitherto enjoyed. Yet they hardly -felt it as a loss; they were made to feel that it was pleasing to God -that they should do as they were bidden. - -Sera Ketill’s doctrine bore the outward semblance of hallowed certainty -and divine infallibility. But there was something vague about it still, -something that had not yet been declared outright. A sense of -expectancy, half-unconscious, perhaps, hung over the parish. Whither was -Sera Ketill leading them? What was it that was coming? - -Ketill himself realized well enough that his scope of operations was -limited: he could only carry matters to a certain point. Like a skilful -general, he carefully estimated the fighting strength at his disposal, -and never permitted himself to indulge in any over-sanguine imaginings -as to how far his people would follow him when it came to the pinch. -Above all things, he must not lose his head; must not act prematurely. -His objective was clear, but it could only be reached by patience. Given -but time enough, the ripened fruit would fall at his feet. Meantime, he -must foster the growing zeal among his flock; in time, they would be -ready for any outburst of fanaticism. Not too quickly—no. But his time -would surely come. - - * * * * * - -Ørlygur à Borg attended service regularly; Sunday after Sunday he -listened to the wild outpourings of his son. And sorrow and wonder grew -in his heart. - -Ketill strove to maintain his appearance of sincerity towards his -father, but he knew that the old man saw through the mask. - -Ørlygur, on his part, for all that he had declared that Ketill could no -longer deceive him, found it hard to account for his son’s zeal. If he -were not serious, then why ... what was he aiming at? But again and -again he felt an instinctive certainty that his son’s preaching was not -inspired by any divine influence. - -And apart from the religious aspect, Ørlygur was sorely troubled to see -the people thus easily led. He knew his folk, and was himself a leader -of no common power; he could not but wonder now, whither they were being -led. Also, he knew only too well the cold reaction that often follows -undue excitement. - -Many a long winter night the King of Borg tossed restlessly in bed, -uttering many a prayer to God—the only Being whose superiority he -acknowledged. He was weighed down by a sense of impending disaster—there -was trouble coming, and coming swiftly nearer. - -Ketill was the leading source of his uneasiness; again and again he -asked himself if he could not somehow step in and avert the threatening -catastrophe. But he racked his brains in vain to find any way in which -he could act as things were. What was there for him to oppose? He could -not take action against his son’s enthusiasm in the cause of religion -and piety? Heaven forbid! Was he to endeavour to minimize the devotion -of the people to their God? Even though Ketill’s heart were cold, and -his zeal but a sham, who could say but that he might yet be an -instrument in the hand of the Lord—a creature inspired as to his deeds, -though not in spirit? Ørlygur à Borg could not raise his hand against -Heaven. - -For all this, his suspicions never abated, but rather increased, as he -watched the growing hold of his son upon the parish. Was it not a masked -attack upon the supremacy of Borg? His son was trying to usurp his place -as chieftain. He called to mind the story of David and Absalom, and -David’s bitter lament for the death of his son. And he could not free -himself from the thought that Heaven must be working out some plan with -Ketill, the prodigal; at times, also, it seemed that something evil were -lying in wait. And, in such moments, the old man longed to take his son, -his child, in his arms, and weep over him, despite all the wrong he had -suffered at his hands. Ørlygur made no attempt to disguise from himself -the baseness of Ketill’s conduct, but he fancied it might be the will of -God moving in some mysterious way. His heart was torn by the meanness -and hypocrisy of his son; he felt himself wounded to the death. And yet -all the time his heart was bursting with a desire to forgive. - -Nevertheless, the same disgust and aversion filled him every time they -met. He felt he must step in and put a stop to all this underhand -scheming and working; Ketill was a creeping, venomous thing, to be -crushed underfoot ere it had wrought irreparable harm. - -For the first time in his life Ørlygur felt uncertain of himself, -wavering as to his proper course of action. He doubted his right to -lead; doubted even if he had been right up to now in stewardship under -God of all that was His. - -He searched his conscience, yet he could find no evil there. Yet what if -his judgment of himself were at fault, blinded by pride and self-deceit? -How should a man judge of himself?—God alone could judge. - -The brave old warrior was stricken and weakened now; his own flesh and -blood had wounded him, and, in face of it, doubt and uncertainty gripped -his soul. - -The winter wore on. - -Each day brought the foreboding of disaster more and more prominently to -Ørlygur’s mind; each night increased the restless tension of his heart. - -Then late in March came a letter from Ormarr, then in Italy. - -The news was encouraging; Runa had borne a child, a son, some weeks -before, and both were well. Ormarr and his wife were happy together; -Runa appeared to have forgotten her past trouble, and Ormarr did his -best not to revive any unpleasant memory. He himself was well and happy, -though longing at times for his home at Borg; he was anxious to return, -and tend and comfort his father in the last years of his life. - -They would be coming back as early as could be managed, reaching Iceland -in June. The child was to be regarded as newly born; it could hardly be -difficult to conceal the exact truth as to its age. And as Ørlygur knew, -they had been married in Denmark the previous autumn. Finally, Ormarr -bade his father be of good cheer, and wished to be sincerely remembered -to his sister-in-law, Alma. - -Ørlygur found the letter encouraging, yet at the same time there was -something in it that saddened him. He was glad to have the support of -his son’s youth and strength in his loneliness, and his heart went out -to the boy in welcome. Here, at last, he would have some one he could -trust, some one in whom he could confide. But at the same time, there -were fears in his mind as to what would come when Ormarr returned, and -his anxiety increased as the time for his homecoming grew nearer. - -Gloomy dreams haunted his sleep—a thing he had never known before. What -it all meant was beyond him, but somehow, all seemed to centre round the -idea of approaching death. At the same time, he realized with dread that -there might be worse in store for him than death—something more terrible -than what was after all but a natural end. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -The winter was a hard time for Fru Alma. - -Never, surely, had a tender, womanly heart been so overwhelmed with -loneliness and doubt, conflicting feelings and bewildering thoughts, or -borne it all with greater fortitude and patience. - -A snow-white lily snatched from the sunny spring and thrust away into a -gloomy loft. And what is the withering of a lily to the agonies of a -human heart? Here was a human creature, plucked from a careless -butterfly existence under a cloudless sky of youth, and transplanted to -a land of grim solemnity and earnest—the home of Fate, where dreams and -omens and forebodings reigned; who could endure it and not suffer? - -Alma’s soul developed in adversity, but it was an unnatural growth—the -growth of herbage in the shade, outwardly luxuriant, no more. Such -growths, once brought into the light of the sun, must wither and shrink, -to rise no more. - -Hardest of all, perhaps, was the monotony of her life. Despite the -changing weather, lengthening days, intercourse with people around her -as she picked up a little more of the language, despite the busy -Sundays, it was a sadly uneventful existence, and there seemed no hope -of relief in the future. The coming years loomed out as burdens to be -borne in due course, days of drab wakefulness, with restless nights of -evil dreams; the healing rest that night should bring was but a mirage. - -When the loneliness became unbearable she would seek the company of old -Kata, or of the other servants. And her kindness to them all was soon -known far and wide. Were any in trouble, be sure Fru Alma would not pass -them by; her generous sympathy was recognized by all. “The Danish Lady -at Hof,” they called her, and looked to her as one to whom any appeal -for help should naturally be made, as to a patron saint, or the Son of -God Himself. And there was no irreverence in the comparison. - -The vicarage was constantly besieged by beggars and vagabonds; Sera -Ketill, scenting personal advantage to himself in his wife’s reputation -for charity, encouraged her in the work. He thanked her—but his thanks -were insincere and superficial, and Alma was not deceived. She and old -Kata were the only ones who saw through him, each in her own way. The -two women never spoke of him together; he was the one theme upon which -they never exchanged confidences. Alma could not speak ill of her -husband to any one, and it was not old Kata’s way to make ill worse. -Kata knew exactly what went on at the vicarage, and she was the only one -who did. Ørlygur was only partially aware of the true state of affairs -between Ketill and his wife. - - * * * * * - -Kata, who herself had never been wife nor mistress to any man, was more -outspoken with Fru Alma than she had ever been with any other soul. She -found in her a creature pure and undefiled as herself, a nature trustful -and unsuspicious, with that high confidence that gives the greatest -worth, beyond what ordinary sense can perceive. And Kata tested her in -many ways before venturing to speak freely; but Alma passed every ordeal -triumphantly, unaware that she was being tried. Chief of all was -absolute, voluntary silence, speaking of a matter to none until one knew -that speech was but as speaking to oneself. Good wine should not be -poured into untried vessels. - -It is hard to say whether old Kata’s confidences were to Alma’s good or -the reverse. In any case, it was a relief to her to talk with the old -woman, and at first she paid but little heed to what she heard. There -were strange themes which she would never have dreamed of discussing -with any one, and when alone, she gave them but little thought. -Gradually, however, they became more insistent, and laid firm hold on -her mind. - -True, she never saw nor heard “things,” as old Kata claimed to do; she -was not given to seeing visions, and certainly had no claim to the power -of second sight. But she had strange dreams which Kata, when in the -mood, would interpret in such wise that Alma became thoroughly convinced -of the old woman’s powers. - -They had strange talks together at times. - -“Why is it, do you think, Kata,” Alma might ask, “that there is always -more suffering than joy in life?” - -“I doubt but it’s all because they crucified the Son of God.” - -“But don’t you think there’s many a human being must have suffered as -much as He did? Others have been crucified, you know; and then death on -the cross is not the worst kind of torture that could be imagined.” - -“Nay, there’s many a heavy cross to be borne, that’s true. But God is -God, and that’s another thing.” - -Or Fru Alma would start another theme, asking Kata’s views as to whether -sufferings of human beings were confined to this world, or if there were -perhaps still greater pains and trouble to come. - -Old Kata opined that each and every one would receive punishment or -reward according to their doings in this world. - -“It seems to me,” said Alma quietly, “that we are so bound by inherited -weakness and sin that however much evil we may do, we cannot fairly be -judged beyond our life on earth.” - -“There’s a deal in that, maybe,” answered Kata. “And there’s many a poor -sinner not rightly answerable for all they’ve done. But God is God.” - -One day, when a number of dead bodies from a wreck had been washed -ashore in the fjord, Alma said: - -“Sometimes I can’t help thinking that mankind, for all the limitation of -our powers, could manage some things more justly at least than -Providence seems to do.” - -“Never speak like that,” said old Kata warningly. “Think of the -Scriptures. ’Tis God’s finger guiding all.” - -“Oh, I know it’s a blessed thing to have faith in time of trouble. And -as long as it’s only oneself.... But when something dreadful happens to -others, and there seems no sense nor reason for it all, then one can’t -help asking, why, what is it all for? Surely one might think that a -heavenly providence would be kind, and work for our good.” - -“Ay, ’tis strange to think, no doubt,” answered Kata. “And there’s times -when it’s hard to answer such things. But God is God.” - -This last expression was a constant formula in Kata’s mouth, which to -herself at least seemed to dispose of the most difficult problem. - -Alma ventured to put a direct question. - -“Have you never felt yourself, sometime, that you didn’t really want to -say ‘God’s will be done’?” - -“Now you’re asking me something,” said Kata, “and something I’d not -answer to any but yourself.” - -The spinning-wheel stopped, and Kata paused; not a word was uttered for -some moments. At last the old woman went on: - -“Once there was a poor man and a young woman. She was not rich, neither, -but they two were fond of each other, and gave each other promise. They -would wait till they could buy a little farm; it might take years, but -they would wait. You know the hills over yonder they call the Dark -Mountains. Well, the young man, he went up there to serve with a farmer -who offered him good wages. And the girl, she stayed behind, and never -saw him all that summer. But she had her ring to look at, and hope. In -the autumn, he came down over the mountains to see her. And there came a -snowstorm on the way, and he was frozen to death in the mountains....” - -Old Kata’s voice had changed; its tone brought tears to Alma’s eyes, and -though the speaker herself shed never a tear, it was a little time -before she could go on. - -“Yes. ’Twas a hard blow to my faith at the time, and I was all doubt in -my heart. But later on that same year I learned the truth. He was going -to marry the daughter of the farmer he’d been working with, and only -came down to ask me to give back the ring and give me mine again. And -then I said ‘God’s will be done.’ ’Twas providence clear enough. ’Tis -not for us mortals to fathom the ways of God, and there’s much that -seems mysterious, ay, and hard and unjust. But God is God. And we’re but -weak things in His hand, without understanding. But for all that we can -make our hearts a shining light, and show the way to wanderers that’s -lost the way.” - - * * * * * - -When Alma knew she was to give birth to a child, she gave way entirely, -and pent-up tears burst forth. - -“Oh, how could it, how could it ever come like this?” she moaned. - -She was to bring forth a child that should carry the nature of its -father or its mother—to what degree she could not say. And the prospect -of a child she felt she could not love filled her with horror, the curse -of a joyless motherhood. If only God in His mercy had made her barren; -had spared her the anguish of bringing another life into this world of -suffering and misery. - -She wept herself by degrees into a calmer state, and a sense of pity and -self-reproach grew up in her—pity for the new little being to come, and -self-reproach that she herself was so weak. - -Surely it was sinful to look forward without thankfulness to motherhood, -a sin against the child unborn. - -And yet—how could she ever be glad? - -Life was a void to her; she had no desire in life but to cease living. -Listlessly she saw the days go by, the burden of her sorrow ever -increasing. - -But those around her paid little heed; they had seen so many young -mothers who seemed to think themselves laden with all the trouble of all -the world. - -Ørlygur à Borg noticed her condition, and saw, too, that she took no -pleasure in the prospect. His heart was touched at the thought, and his -tenderness towards her increased. Often on Sundays he would arrive some -time before the service, in order to see her, and if he could, console -her a little. - -They went to church together, the old man and the young woman; Alma -still sat in her old place beside his. And she was grateful for his -kindness and friendliness; he seemed to her the most lovable man she had -ever known. - -One Sunday, just before church, Ketill happened to return to the house, -and found his father’s overcoat hanging in the hall. The lining was -outward, and the corner of an envelope showed in the pocket. - -Ketill glanced round, listened, and seized the letter, slipped into a -room close by and closed the door behind him. - -Hurriedly he read the message through. It was Ormarr’s letter telling of -the birth of Runa’s child. - -Ketill’s hands trembled, and his face flushed. With a nervous laugh he -thrust the letter into his pocket. Then, as by an afterthought, he took -it out again, stood for a moment irresolute, and making sure he was not -observed, put it back in the coat from which he had taken it. - -He went back to join his father and Alma, in the sitting-room, trying -hard to appear unmoved. But he felt he could not quite control himself, -and began fumbling among some papers on the writing-table. He was still -thus occupied when the bell rang for the last time. His wife and Ørlygur -would have waited for him, but he bade them go on, saying he would -follow immediately. - -Ketill waited till their steps had died away, then hurried out to the -hall; he knew he was now alone in the house. He took down the coat, and -let it fall to the ground, where it might seem to have slipped from the -peg. Then he took the letter from the envelope, and laid it unfolded by -the coat, as if it had fallen out. - -This done, he hurried across to the church. On the way he stopped, felt -in his pocket, and beckoning to a lad near, whispered: - -“I left my pocket-book on the writing-table in my room. Run in and fetch -it for me.” - -The boy ran off to obey, and passing through the hall noticed the coat -lying on the floor. He stopped to pick it up, and caught sight of the -letter. He glanced through it, hardly knowing what he was doing, and -finally left everything as he had found it. - -When he reached the church with the pocket-book, he was evidently ill at -ease; those who remarked it put it down to embarrassment at attracting -attention. - -Sera Ketill’s sermon was not so effective today as usual. Possibly his -delivery was in part responsible. The priest seemed curiously absent; -once or twice he even came to a standstill, and had to cast about for -words. - -It was the custom for none to leave the church till the priest and his -family had left. Sera Ketill seemed in a remarkable hurry today. He -strode across to the house at once, and quickly. - -Coat and letter lay where he had left them, but had evidently been -moved. Ketill smiled. He picked up the letter, slipped it into the -envelope, and put it back in the pocket. He had barely finished when -Ørlygur and Alma entered. - -Ørlygur had noticed nothing, but Alma thought it strange to find her -husband there in the hall, after he had made such haste to leave the -church, doing something with his father’s coat. - -Her heart beat fast, and she turned to Ørlygur. - -“Another time, father, when you hang your overcoat up like that, be sure -there is nothing in the pockets.” - -As she spoke, hardly realizing what she had said, at first, the -consciousness of her own suspicions of her husband came to her suddenly, -and she flushed. - -Ørlygur laughed, and answered: - -“I don’t think there is anything to be afraid of.” - -And he felt in his pockets. “Nothing here but a letter from Ormarr, and -any one’s welcome to read that.” - -He spoke lightly, but a moment afterwards, recollecting the contents, he -turned pale. Alma noticed it, but tried to appear unconcerned. - -When Ørlygur had gone, she remained standing, deep in thought. - -It dawned upon her that there must be some connection between her -husband’s evident nervousness and Ørlygur’s sudden start. What it could -be she was unable to imagine. - -Outwardly calm, she rejoined her husband. - -“Your father showed me a letter he had just received from Ormarr.” - -“Did he _show_ it to you?” - -Ketill sprang up suddenly, and came towards her, but she appeared not to -notice, and went on: - -“Ormarr and his wife are getting on nicely. They are in Naples, and -expect to be home early in June.” - -“Did you read the letter?” asked Ketill, with a careless air. - -“No. Ørlygur told me what was in it.” - -Alma was watching her husband’s face, and could not fail to mark the -smile with which he greeted her last remark. Evidently, he had got hold -of the letter himself somehow, and found in it something that Ørlygur -would not willingly have known. - -With bowed head, she left the room, and went to her bedroom, threw -herself on the bed, and burst into tears. - -Her husband was a thief—a priest, and a thief. - -What a cruel burden was this Heaven had laid upon her. What would this -man’s child be? Oh that the Lord would take it before ever it woke to -life! - -Alma wept long and bitterly, falling at last into a heavy sleep. It -lasted but a little while, however, and she awoke in high fever. - -She was put to bed, and a doctor sent for. But before he could reach -her, the trouble was over—Alma had given her child to the -world—stillborn. - -When Alma came to herself, she saw her husband bending over the little -body, which they would not allow her to see. Ketill’s face showed -neither tears nor sorrow. - -And she thought to herself: I shall die now. And it will be laid in the -earth by my side, with never a kindly look from any human being in this -world. - -With an effort she managed to raise herself on her elbow and glance down -into the cradle where the little body lay. It was all uncovered, on a -white sheet, so very small and grey, with little white finger-nails. The -sight was like a hot steel in her heart. And with a cry she fell back, -unconscious. - -For several days Alma lay between life and death, and when at last the -crisis was passed, she looked up to find old Kata by her side. - -The old woman smiled encouragingly, but would not let her speak. - -“Lie still, my dear; the worst is over now.” - -A day or two later, when Alma was well enough to sit up in bed a little, -she asked: - -“How long have I been lying here, Kata?” - -“This is the tenth day.” - -“Have I been ill so long? And who has been watching besides you?” - -“Nay, I’d have none but myself for that. I’ve slept a little now and -again.” - -Alma grasped the old woman’s wrinkled hand. - -“How ever could you, Kata! And how can I ever thank you?” - -“No need to try, my dear. ’Tis enough that you’re getting well again.” - -“Have I—did I talk in my sleep at all?” - -“Nay, nothing to worry about. Said this and that, maybe, but I paid no -heed.” - -Kata busied herself about the room, avoiding Alma’s eyes. “’Tis no use -listening to feverish talk,” she added. - -During the long days that followed, while Alma was in bed, Kata told her -fairy stories about kings and princes, with some idea of diverting her -thoughts. And Alma could not but smile at the old woman’s curious ideas -as to the life of royalty; she did not, however, attempt to correct her -impressions. - -But once, in a pause, Alma broke in suddenly: - -“Poor little mite—lying out there in the cold.” - -She had learned of the burial of her child some time before. - -And she fell to crying softly at the thought. - -Old Kata came to the bedside and stroked her hand. - -“All’s in God’s hand,” she said. “And all for the best.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -When Alma rose from her bed after six weeks’ illness, she was but a -shadow of her former self. Her face was pale, with a yellow tinge, and -her figure wasted to a degree painful to see. She was hardly more than a -skeleton. Her dark eyes seemed larger, and glowed with a strange, hard -light, such as is seen in the still-open eyes of one frozen to death. -Her brown hair no longer stood in a luxuriant cluster round her head; -much of it had fallen out, leaving hardly enough to cover the scalp and -make a pitiful little knot at the back. - -She had seen but little of her husband during her illness. Twice daily -he had paid her a brief, formal visit; but only a few words were -exchanged between them, and neither found any pleasure in seeing the -other. He slept in a different part of the house, and they avoided each -other as far as possible. - -Ketill could not help noticing that his wife shunned him, but, occupied -as he was with his own affairs, it affected him hardly at all. - -Alma went about the house quietly, as she had always done, with a smile -and a kindly word for all. But though none seemed to notice any change -in her manner, her greetings were less heartily felt than before. Her -heart was dead within her, and something was straining, straining to an -intolerable tension, until it seemed impossible to last. Something must -happen soon. - -She often went out to the little mound where her child lay buried, and -would stand for hours looking down at it. Strange, to have a part of -oneself lying there under the frozen earth and yet to go about oneself -with the warm blood pulsing in one’s veins. It seemed unreal, yet it was -reality. Life seemed to have changed altogether. - -She was no longer glad that the child had not lived. There had been a -time when she had hoped for that very thing, but when her wish was -realized, came pangs of conscience that destroyed her relief at its -fulfilment. She no longer thought of what her life might have been had -the child lived; she forgot that she had ever feared its birth; she had -no feeling now but sorrow for its death, and remorse that she had wished -for it. - -Often old Kata would come to the churchyard to fetch her, gently -reproaching her for staying there so long. - -“’Tis no good to let all the sad thoughts stay in your mind. There’s -life to be lived; you must not go wandering off among the dead so.” - -And Alma would answer with a listless smile. One day she asked: - -“Do you think, Kata, that there really is any life in the world?” - -“Ay, indeed, there is. And if the Lord takes one joy from us, surely He -will give something else in its place.” - -“I am not complaining,” Alma replied. “I have never complained. But I -have seen heavy crosses laid on weak shoulders.” - -“They that seem weak can often bear the heaviest burden. ’Tis a -sorrowful world, but, after all, ’tis only a moment in eternity. And -maybe we’re only here to be tried in the fire, with trouble and -affliction, and the ones that suffer most are those God loves the best. -As if He was taking special pains with them, so they could be sooner -ready to come to Him.” - -One day, as Alma and Kata were standing in the churchyard, two ravens -flew by. They flew over the church, and old Kata eyed them anxiously, -making the sign of the cross. - -Then, in a trembling voice, she said: - -“They flew over the church. ’Tis a sign that some one’ll be called away -before long.” And murmuring so that Alma could scarcely hear, she added: -“If it be Thy will, O Lord, I should be taken, then Thy will be done!” - -But to herself she thought: “If it should be the young mistress that’s -called, then Heaven be praised. I am old and hard, I can wear on for a -few years more, but the burden’s over-heavy on her; if the Lord would -take her in His mercy.... God’s will be done.” - - * * * * * - -During the period of Alma’s illness, a certain amount of unrest had made -itself apparent in the parish. - -First of all, there were rumours abroad. No one could say where they had -started, or how; it was impossible to trace anything more than the -inevitable “So-and-so said so-and-so.” But the rumours were of a -startling character, and it was highly desirable to find out whether -they originated from a reliable source or not. - -Briefly, the matter was this: it was whispered that Ormarr’s wife had -given birth to her child as far back as the beginning of March. - -And people made their calculations. The marriage had taken place at the -beginning of September the previous year. That made the birth a great -deal earlier than it should have been. And yet the child was reported to -be strong and well, by no means as if born before its time. - -It was mysterious. The good folk searched their memories; they could -recall nothing unseemly in Runa’s behaviour as they had known her; far -from it. The marriage had been rather sudden, true, but they had found -nothing very extraordinary in that. The girl had been waiting for -Ormarr, no doubt; no one had ever heard any other man’s name coupled -with hers. It was looked on as a pretty example of a maiden’s patient -waiting for her chosen lover, and Runa had risen in the general esteem -thereby. But now—there were those who began to consider whether they -might not have been over-hasty in their conclusions. - -It looked as if there were something more behind it. And it was not -pleasant to find that one had been deceived. - -Nothing had leaked out as to Sera Ketill’s little affair with his -foster-sister some months earlier, and no one now thought for a moment -of connecting him in any way with the business. - -But who could be the father? - -Folk racked their brains to find one. Some had their own idea, but it -would have required a bold spirit to give it utterance. The name of -Ørlygur à Borg rose to the minds of many. He was the only man with whom -Runa had been on intimate terms, and for whom she was known to have -cherished any affection. That it should have led to such a result none -had ever dreamt—who could have believed it? - -But there it was. Live and learn—the lesson in this case being a warning -against misplaced confidence. - -Old Ørlygur had played his part well, and had been trusted farther than -he should. No, there was no trusting any these days. - -But why had he not married the girl himself? - -’Twas simple enough—it was too late, and it would not do to sully the -good repute of the family. He would never have survived the reproach had -his wife been prematurely confined, and for him to marry a young wife at -all—a mere child—was hardly suited to his dignity. So he had taken this -way out of it. Sent the girl out of the country with his son, giving -them strict orders to remain away long enough to guard against any doubt -as to the child being theirs. - -He had sacrificed his son, that was all. - -Originally, it had been intended that Sera Ketill should inherit the -estate. Every one was aware of that. And then one day comes Ormarr—on a -visit only—and before you had time to turn round, he had sold his -business and got married. It was sudden, to say the least. - -And folk went farther. - -As far as they knew, Sera Ketill’s marriage had come rather as a -surprise to his father. Ah, the old fox! He had reckoned, no doubt, on -getting his younger son to take over the paternity together with the -estate. Then, by the wildest piece of luck, when Ketill upsets his plans -by coming home married already, Ormarr makes all right again by coming -back himself. - -Ay, the Devil was kind to his own! - -It was not long before the parish had put two and two together, and -realized that Sera Ketill must have been aware of the whole thing from -the first. - -_Here_ was the thought that inspired his preaching! Plain to see now the -aim of all this Christian zeal. ’Twas the preparation for a struggle -that he had known was bound to come; they had been watching it all the -winter, never dreaming what lay behind. - -And now it was beginning to get exciting. What did Sera Ketill intend to -do? Would he break with his family openly? If so, how would it be done? - -The church was filled as never before; the listeners carefully analysed -the discourse from the pulpit, seeking some clue that fitted in with -their ideas, some hint as to what was coming. But they learned nothing. - -Sera Ketill, on his part, saw that his plan had succeeded. He could mark -the growth of the seed in the faces of his flock from Sunday to Sunday. -And deliberately he made his allusions vaguer and more general; now that -all would make the proper application of whatever he said, there was no -need for himself to deliver any direct attack. - -It was a drama, played Sunday after Sunday in the church between father -and son—and the onlookers were thrilled with a sense of some terrible -end approaching. - -Parochial disputes were nothing new, but up to now the people of Borg -had always stood united on one side or the other, and their side had -invariably won. But this was different; this was civil war—a house -divided against itself. And it meant a battle the like of which had -never been known in the records of the place. - -The only drawback was that there seemed no possibility of doubt as to -how it must end—unless some new development occurred meanwhile. Not only -had Sera Ketill right on his side, but the Almighty was with him. And, -moreover, he had taken the precaution to enlist the entire congregation -under his banner. - -Altogether, it would need something like a miracle to get that old fox -Ørlygur out of the trap. No use for him to gnaw off a pinioned leg or -brush—he was gripped round the middle, and there was no escape. - -The thought of this great idol’s fall was a thing to make one shudder; -even though he were to fall by his own misdeeds, one could hardly help -pitying him. - -After all, Ørlygur à Borg had always been their friend. None had ever -been so ready to help, so open-handed, as he.... But he had always been -a proud sort, Ørlygur à Borg, and pride goeth before a fall. - -It was rather a conflict between a mortal and the Higher Powers—and they -were not so presumptuous as to think of taking any part themselves. He -would have to manage by himself—even if it meant ruin and disgrace in -the end. However they might feel towards Ørlygur, the general -benefactor, they were not disposed to take up arms against the Lord -Himself for his sake. - -And what said Sera Ketill so insistently: “If thy hand offend thee, cut -it off....” Ay, even if that hand were a brother, a near kinsman.... - -Ay, Sera Ketill knew how to choose his words. - -And if he did not venture now to take his father’s part, but stood up -and opposed him at whatever cost, it was surely because he realized that -God’s commandments must come before all else. - -The spirit of hypocrisy made its triumphal progress through the parish. - -It was characteristic of the fanatical intolerance which reigned that -Ørlygur’s innumerable good deeds were forgotten in the storm of -righteous indignation that rose against him. Folk great and small set -themselves up in judgment upon their old chieftain and found it easy to -discover some selfish motive behind every kindly and generous act of his -in the past. Those who owed him most were sternest in their -condemnation, and, in default of actual proof, were not afraid of -altering facts to support their case. And they quieted conscience by the -thought that even if all were not exactly as they put it, there was -still evidence enough against Ørlygur to satisfy any reasonable mind. A -little touch of colour one way or another made no difference. - -The people had chosen; Ørlygur was already worsted and down. Certain of -the result, they had declared for the winning side—a fine example of the -unstable character of humanity, a weathercock moved by every puff of -wind. - - * * * * * - -Ketill was only waiting for the return of his brother and sister-in-law. - -He felt a slight nervousness in the anticipation, though he felt -confident in his own mind as to the result of the blow he was prepared -to deliver. His plan was complete in all details, all preliminary steps -had been taken: he had but to wait for the decisive moment to strike. - -But the waiting was monotonous. He had nothing more to do, and his mind -in idleness was plagued by distressing thoughts. - -If only he had some one to share things with, a companion after his own -heart. He was realizing now what it was to be lonely. He even sought the -company of his wife, but soon observed that she shunned him as far as -possible. - -The gulf of silence between them had become almost impassable, and he -read enmity and suspicion in her glance. - -He had never meant to be unkind to her. Maybe he had been a little -neglectful at times—but she ought surely to have realized herself how -busy he was, and how hard it was for him to find any time for little -attentions. - -He had time enough now, and would have been glad to make up for the -past, if only by way of finding some comfort himself in his loneliness. -His mind was suffering under a growing burden of isolation. - -In the daytime he could generally find something to do, but the evenings -were long, and the nights often unbearable. He could not sleep, and his -nerves soon began to feel the effect of insufficient rest; he had to -struggle, too, against haunting thoughts that left him almost physically -exhausted. - -Sometimes he even considered whether it might not be better to give up -the whole scheme. But after all the pains he had taken to prepare it—no, -he could not give up now. If he stayed his hand, all would be lost. - -His wife seemed lost to him. She was coldly reserved, and utterly -unresponsive towards his advances. And his conscience troubled him. He -could almost see himself, at times, with her eyes; hear how his own -words rang false in her ears. He was a cheat—and what was worse, he had -been found out. - -Even if he gave up his plans now, it would not help him. He could never -win her back again, of that he was sure. - -With his father, too, it was equally hopeless. Ørlygur would never trust -him again, whatever he might do; and it was not to Ketill’s taste to -humble himself to no avail. - -No! If he gave up now, he would be utterly alone thenceforward. The -people would desert him, for his preaching would no longer have any -definite aim; his doctrine would lack its dominant purpose. He would be -alone, forsaken by all, without a friend among his flock, his kin, or -even in himself; alienated even from his God. A creature to be despised, -or pitied; a thing of no account, unworthy either of hatred or -affection. Intolerable! - -No; if he were to be alone, he would at least have power. If he could -not win the trust and affection of his people, he would at least command -their obedience and outward respect. No one should have the right to -accuse him of weakness. - -Such were his conflicting thoughts as the days went on. Ketill was -thoroughly wearied of inaction; he longed for the moment when he could -act, as a child longs for its birthday. Again and again he pictured to -himself the events of that day, conjuring up visions of his triumph; his -one desire now was for it to come, and make an end of the waiting. - -Also, he began to feel less sure of himself; to fear lest at the -critical moment his nerve might fail him. - -Once he had declared himself, however, there could be no question of -withdrawal; all doubt and wavering would disappear; there he would -stand, erect and strong, the victor in a struggle that he had vowed to -win or die. - -He was not blind to the danger of any weakness on his own part; -irresolution would be fatal. But once he could take the decisive step, -leaving himself no possibility of retreat, all would be well. - -Victory was certain—for he was fighting without mercy, as injustice ever -does. - - * * * * * - -Alma went about in the same dull, listless state as before. She seemed -to be living in a world apart from all that went on around her. - -She noticed her husband’s restlessness, and that he seemed to be trying -to approach her. But she put it down to his weakness and lack of -society—a need for companionship of any sort. And as a result, her -antipathy increased. She was good enough—in default of all else! But at -other times he cared nothing for her. It was not for her sake, not for -herself, he sought her. Ketill never realized how his neglect had -isolated her in a prison of solitude. - -It was impossible to speak to him about the state of things between -them; he would only gloss it over with an utter disregard of the truth. -And any open insincerity and falsehood on his part would bring matters -to a climax; she would be unable to restrain her feelings. What would -happen exactly, she did not know; she did not venture to consider the -possibility. It seemed impossible that she could ever survive such a -revelation. - -And yet she had a painful intuition that it would come, and that she -would survive it. It was horrible to think that she must go on living -after that. Were she but certain that it would kill her, she would -gladly do her best to bring matters to a head instead of avoiding and -dreading it. - -But for the present the wheels of time seemed to have stopped; life was -at a standstill. - -Even the solitude she sought in her wanderings about the country seemed -dreadful to her now. Ice and snow, ice and snow—the outlook was so bleak -and desolate that it brought her mind to the verge of insanity. - -Her head ached intensely as she looked out over the snow-covered waste; -her brain seemed on the point of bursting, she felt herself fighting to -retain her mental balance. Once she gave way there would be no recovery. - -She would find a dark corner somewhere, and sit down with her head in -her hands, rocking to and fro. Snow and barren waste—the sight of it -worked on her till she dared not face it. - -Then came the sunshine of spring, and she could go out once more. The -snow was still there, but there were breaks in its monotonous expanse. -And day by day she watched it disappear. - -Then at last one day she heard the roar of the stream as it broke -through the ice of its winter bondage. She hurried out to look. - -The ice had been carried out into the fjord, and lay there, blue and -green, rocking gently on the water. Later in the day it lost its -freshness, dulled by the sand and mud carried down by the torrent. -Streams were pouring everywhere from the heights above, forming small -pools here and there where the water spread. - -And gradually the earth rose up out of its covering of snow. - -The landscape was dark and bare, relieved here and there by white -specks—the ptarmigan had not yet changed their winter plumage. - -Then the green of spring began to put forth, and birds of passage -arrived. The air grew milder, and the song of birds was heard; there was -a scent of growth abroad, a promise of harvests to come. - -Early blossoms peeped out, braving the frosts with cheerful smiles. Time -went on, and the light nights came, when the evening brought but a veil -over the day, that was drawn aside again at dawn, when the bright sun -rose, passing from a ruddy glow to a fullness of dazzling rays. -Butterflies lived their little lives, and sank to earth, to pass through -the cycle of nature before they came again. The lambs of last year were -mothers now themselves, wise in the vicissitudes of life and saddened by -experience. - -But the horses, even the older ones, forgot for a moment their mere -material needs, and galloped madly about under the influence of the -joy-filled air. - -Cattle let loose for the first time from their confinement behaved in -most undignified fashion; even the astonished calves followed suit and -joined in the romp with their elders. Good-natured mothers pretended to -let themselves be outdone by their month-old offspring, until some -youngster grew overbold, and had to be reminded by what was fitting. -Great days, these, for a young calf, a time to play at being a grown-up -bull, and making ferocious charges against all and sundry. - -All the light-heartedness of spring about her brought at times a smile -to Alma’s saddened face. But it was a smile of pity rather than of -pleasure. All these young creatures, this life new to the world, had not -yet tasted the bitterness of existence upon earth. - -So she lived through the spring with the winter of life in her heart, -that nothing could melt away once it had set in. No springtide for her, -no budding and bloom. - -She longed only for peace—in forgetfulness or death. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -Ørlygur a Borg was heavy at heart this spring. - -He marked the covert whispering abroad, and it chilled him. But no one -was anxious to be the first to tell him of the rumours that had spread, -and he remained in ignorance of their essential theme. Yet he could not -fail to see that there was something in the air—something that concerned -himself. - -The expression of men’s faces had changed. Ørlygur found himself -regarded with curious glances—sometimes a look of wondering speculation, -at times a look of something like scorn. If he came unexpectedly upon a -group, they would cease their talking suddenly, or talk with such -eagerness of indifferent matters that it was clear they had changed the -subject on his arrival. They had been speaking of him—or at any rate of -something he was not to know of. - -At first he paid little heed to it all. What did he care for their -gossip? He had always held himself apart and above all idle talk. -Realities, matters of actual moment, were the only things that -interested him. Let them wag their tongues if they pleased; say what -they would of one another, good or ill. It was always the same in the -end—they answered to the hand with the surest touch, not to the mere -possessor of a gift of speech. - -As days went on, their glances became more and more ill-disposed and -evident; the crowd seemed to increase in boldness as its numbers grew. -Ørlygur felt himself gradually surrounded; even at Borg itself there was -an air of restraint apparent. His own people no longer met his gaze -frankly, no longer laughed heartily at his jests; his orders even were -no longer received and obeyed with the same willing alacrity as before. -If any task called for special effort, there was no longer the same -eager haste to help. It seemed rather as if he were being left to -struggle by himself, an object of curiosity as to how he would manage -alone. He could see, too, that he was being watched, as if all around -him were trying to read his thoughts, and with no friendly eye. - -Day by day it grew harder to bear. Ørlygur tried to get at what was in -their minds, insinuating opportunities for them to speak out, but -without avail. They could not—or would not—perceive his invitations to -tell him frankly what was amiss. - -He sought out his best friends in the parish, those whom he had -befriended most. He called, not as with any evident object, but -casually, leaving it to them to speak of what they evidently knew. But -all to no purpose. It had not been the way of those whom Ørlygur had -helped to cringe and fawn before him; they had acknowledged his -assistance as between man and man. But now they met him with fluent -insincerity, plainly trying to conceal the true state of the case. -Outwardly, they were humble and full of deference and gratitude; but he -could see their hearts were ice towards him. - -There was hardly a soul in the parish who was not indebted to him in -some way. But now that he stood in need of a friendly hand, their -selfishness was revealed. Not one had the courage to speak out. - -Then came the third of May—the date when farm hands and servants enter -or leave their service. - -Ørlygur was out and about betimes, looking to some lambs that had just -arrived. It was dinner-time before he came back to the house. As he came -up, he noticed that there were no men to be seen outside, though some of -the ewes were in birth-throes and needing help. He attended to the most -pressing cases himself, and then hurried up to the house. - -Here a further surprise awaited him. All the hands, and the girls -belonging to the house, stood with their boxes ready packed. - -At the door he met the headman, dressed in his Sunday best and carrying -a box. The man flushed a deep red at sight of his master, but tried to -appear unconcerned. - -Ørlygur had come up with the intention of sending out the first man he -found to attend to the sheep. Now, he gave no orders, but asked instead: - -“Are you leaving, then?” - -“Ye—es,” stammered the man, evidently ill at ease. - -“If you are not satisfied, why have you not told me before, instead of -going off like this without a word in advance?” - -“You never asked me to stay,” was the sullen reply. - -“You have stayed on of your own accord now for twenty-two years, since I -took you in as a child.” - -This was undeniable. The man murmured something about having found -another place. - -“Where?” - -“With Jonas à Myri.” - -“Good. You can tell him from me that if he should be in need of hay -again, as he was last winter, he can come to me as he did then. And -now—you may go to the devil!” - -Ørlygur turned on his heel and went indoors. In the passage he met one -of the girls, dressed in her best. - -“Are you going too?” - -“You did not ask me to stay.” - -A plot, thought the old man, and turned from her without a word. - -All the farm hands were dressed and ready to leave, gathered together in -a group. A silence fell on them as he approached. - -One by one he asked them: “Are you leaving?” And always the same answer: -“You did not ask me to stay.” - -Ørlygur found difficulty in restraining his feelings. He was deeply -attached to his people, most of whom had been in his service for many -years. They had always got on well together; the hands at Borg had -better wages than they could have obtained elsewhere. Some of them he -had engaged when no one else would take them, and they would have been -without support had it not been for his help. And now they were -deserting him. Not one of them had been man enough to declare his -intention beforehand, and give time for finding help elsewhere. - -Ørlygur spoke with studied harshness, fearing to betray what he really -felt. - -“Get you gone, then, every man of you, and the sooner the better.” - -It struck him that he had not seen old Ossa, who had served him for -fifty years, and had been like a second mother to his children. He found -her in the kitchen, preparing his meal. - -“Are you not leaving too?” he asked bitterly. - -“I’m too old to go about the country seeking work,” said she. Her voice -seemed richer and softer than usual as she spoke. - -“If it is only that, I could have lent you a horse,” returned Ørlygur, -with a note of sarcasm in his voice. - -“Nay, I’ve no wish to be leaving Borg. ’Twill not be of my own choosing -if I should. And maybe I can be some use a bit yet. As long as I’ve but -my keep and needn’t be a burden.” - -There was a slight pause. - -“Ossa, what is it? Why are they leaving the place?” Ørlygur asked, with -some constraint. - -“Master’s the best judge of that, I take it.” - -“But—they say it’s because I haven’t asked them to stay on from last -hiring. You know I’ve never asked them; as long as I thought they were -satisfied, I took it they would stay.” - -“Didn’t they say about leaving before, then?” - -“You know that as well as I do.” - -“Well, then, Master can surely stop them; they’ve no right to go if you -order them to stay.” - -“I’m too old to beg favours. And I’ve no mind to call in the law. You -won’t tell me, then, what it’s all about?” - -“If you don’t know, ’twould not help you to be told.” - -“Well, well, I’ll not try to make you speak against your will. But I -thank you for staying on.” - -“I’ll have your dinner ready directly. You’ll need it this day.” - -“Never mind the dinner. Put on a shawl and come and give me a hand with -the sheep. They are lambing all over the place, and none to help them.” - -And Ørlygur strode out. - -A lamb was bleating pitifully at the back of the house. He hurried over -to the spot, and found the headman already there. The man looked up as -he approached. Ørlygur strode forward, his face white. - -“You are no longer in my service,” he said. “And I do not want your -help.” And with a blow he struck the fellow to the ground, and went on, -paying no further heed to him. - - * * * * * - -Ørlygur à Borg was left with none to help him save old Ossa. - -The sheep alone were more than he could manage; hundreds of them, and in -the height of the lambing season. Scores of the young lambs perished -daily, for lack of care. Ørlygur and Ossa worked all day and far into -the night, doing all they could, but despite their efforts, many of the -ewes died in giving birth, or strayed and were drowned or bogged; many -of the lambs starved within reach of the udders they could not find. And -it was impossible to milk the burdened beasts; many were soon suffering -from lack of relief. - -There were the cows to be seen to as well; Ørlygur and Ossa were so -exhausted when at last they ceased work for the night that neither could -do more than sink down in a chair for a few hours’ rest. They spoke only -briefly, of necessary things, and ate their food on the way to and from -their work. - -On the following Sunday, Ørlygur asked of those he met at church if they -knew of any hands to be had. - -It seemed that there were none available anywhere. - -And now he felt that they were rejoicing inwardly at his misfortunes. -All were against him, he felt certain, but their opposition was so -veiled that there was nothing he could take hold of or challenge. - -Patience was the only thing. Ørlygur waited. - -It could not be long, he felt, before something leaked out as to what -lay at the root of it all. Some accidental hint, a word let drop, might -give him a chance to take the matter up. And if he could but find out -who was the leader responsible for it all, it should go hard with him. - -He suspected Ketill, but could not understand how he could have such -power in the parish already as to bring about such a change in the -general attitude of the people. - -As to his own practical difficulties—he might perhaps get hands from -farther off, but he could not be away from the place himself, and there -was no one he could send. Nothing for it, then, but to wait patiently -for Ormarr’s return. - -Ørlygur shook his head sadly as he realized his helplessness. Truly, he -was getting old. - - * * * * * - -The vessel was nearly due now. - -Ørlygur kept a close watch on the fjord, and held three horses in -readiness for the moment when the ship rounded the point. - -If only it would come! He shook his head; he had a feeling that there -was but a little time left him now to live. - -And he dreaded lest perhaps the ship should not come, or something have -prevented Ormarr from making the voyage. He spoke to old Ossa about the -weather; no, surely it could not send a fine vessel to the bottom. - -Ørlygur’s hands trembled incessantly; he was visibly aged, and his voice -quavered when he spoke of his own affairs. - -Old Ossa was deeply concerned, but strove to hide her sympathy; Ørlygur -was not pleased to find himself looked on as a helpless creature, and -was apt to turn on her impatiently when he suspected her of overmuch -anxiety on his behalf. He would not be looked after like a child. If she -ventured to dry his socks at the fire, instead of hanging them to air in -the ordinary way, he would keep his wet ones on. And when she tried to -substitute new mittens for his old and tattered ones, he gave up wearing -mittens at all. - -“Getting old I may be,” he grumbled, “but I’m not an old woman yet.” - -Then at last one day the ship hove in sight round the point. - -Ørlygur hurried about, active as a boy, saddled his horses, forgot all -his troubles, and astonished old Ossa by humming, all unconsciously, a -fragment of a song, that he kept repeating over and over again. - -And as soon as he was ready, off he rode to fetch his son home. - - * * * * * - -Sera Ketill had likewise been awaiting the arrival of the vessel with -impatience, and had horses ready. - -As soon as he saw it had arrived, he hurried to his wife. - -“Ormarr and his wife have arrived—the ship is just coming in. Get ready -as quickly as you can. We must go down to the quay and bid them -welcome.” - -Alma looked at him in surprise; something in his manner filled her with -vague anxiety. - -She put on her riding things—her habit was sadly too big for her now, -but, after all, what did it matter? And Ketill and his wife set off for -the trading station, reaching there just after Ørlygur himself. - -Ormarr and Runa had already come ashore, and the party were about to set -off for Borg when Ketill and Alma arrived on the scene. All three tried -to conceal their astonishment: they had not expected Ketill. - -He greeted them with outward calm, and they tried, for Alma’s sake, to -appear as if there were nothing but good-will between them. But all -three found it difficult to meet his glance. And Ketill smiled, as if -with pleasure at the meeting, but in reality with malicious satisfaction -at the evident impression his presence made. It was a tribute to his -power. It would not be easy to get rid of him now. - -Ørlygur was trembling, and had the greatest difficulty in controlling -himself. Trouble was imminent now; of that he was certain. And he -puzzled his brain to find the reason of Ketill’s appearance there—what -had he to gain by it? - -Ormarr took the child, and helped his wife into the saddle. He was very -pale, and glanced covertly at Runa. - -Alma came up to him. - -“It is long since we met,” she said. And, noticing his pallor, she asked -anxiously if he were “unwell.” - -“It is nothing—I felt a little strange for the moment,” he said. - -Ormarr, on his part, noted how changed Alma was, how ill and distressed. -He was about to question her, but checked himself; best not, perhaps, to -ask anything at all just now. - -Alma read his intention, and understood that he wished to spare her. She -felt she must hide the real cause, and gave only the more direct reason -for her evident ill-health. - -“I too have had a child since we last met,” she said; and added after a -pause, “and lost it.” - -Tears rose to her eyes. And just at that moment Ketill came up. - -“What—crying?” he said, putting his arm round her. Alma shivered at his -touch. - -Ketill lifted the coverings from the child’s face and looked at it. “So -this is the little heir,” he said jestingly. “We must have a look.” - -Alma also glanced at the child. - -“Congratulations, Runa,” said Alma, grasping her sister-in-law’s hand. -“And Ormarr”—turning to him—“and you too, dear father-in-law. ’Tis a -bonny child they have brought you home. May it bring luck to the house!” - -“Ay, we need something to bring luck to the house,” said Ørlygur -bitterly. - -Alma looked at him, surprised at his tone. - -“Oh—you mean you still can’t get hands for the farm work?” - -Ørlygur saw that she asked in all innocence. - -“No, my dear,” he answered. “And I am getting old. When the little lad -here has grown a bit, I may do as a playmate for him, but little more. -But we ought to be getting home.” - -All five rode off together. Not a word was spoken until they reached the -cross-road where Ketill and his Wife turned off to take the short path -to Hof. - -The three continued on their way in silence. - -Ørlygur was glad that the meeting had been got over; sooner or later -Runa would have had to meet Ketill, and it was well that it was done. He -rode up beside her. - -“You managed splendidly,” he said. “I have never seen a woman so brave -and strong.” - -Runa made no answer, but Ørlygur read her silence as expressing thanks. - -Some way farther on she rode up to him again; he understood that she had -something particular to say. She rode at his side for a little distance -without speaking, then, leaning towards him, she said in a low voice: - -“The past is forgotten.” - -And they rode on in silence. But, despite her words, Ørlygur was not -quite at his ease. - -Later, when they arrived at Borg, and he saw how Ormarr helped his wife -tenderly from her horse, and kissed her, the tears rose to his eyes, and -he thanked God that these two, united in misfortune, seemed now, at -least, to be living happily together in love. - -Old Ossa came out to meet them, and Ørlygur turned to his son. - -“The only one that is left,” he said, pointing to Ossa. “There are no -more servants at Borg.” - -“What do you mean?” queried Ormarr. - -“It means that I have become such a hard master in my old age that I can -neither keep old servants in my house nor get new to come.” - -Later on he told Ormarr how the servants and farm hands had left with -one accord, and how those he had befriended among his neighbours round -had turned from him in his need. He said nothing, however, of his -suspicions with regard to Ketill. - -Ormarr thought for a moment, then turned to his father suddenly. - -“There must be something behind all this,” he said. - -Ørlygur nodded; he too was clear as to that, but what was at the bottom -of it all, he could not say. - -Ormarr seemed anxious to pass over the matter lightly for the present. -“We must be able to get hands from somewhere,” he said easily. “And if -our neighbours can do without us, I dare say we can manage without -them.” - - * * * * * - -Sera Ketill and his wife rode on for some distance without speaking. -Alma had an idea that Ketill wished to confide in her about something, -but was at a loss how to begin. - -She remembered how she had ridden that way with her husband once before: -she had wept then, because he left her to ride alone. Now, the mere idea -that he wished to speak to her made her shudder. - -They came to the ford, and Ketill drew up close beside his wife, lest -she should fall dizzy in crossing. He told her to close her eyes and -hold on firmly, which she did. They crossed without difficulty. Alma -could hear that the water no longer plashed about the horses’ feet. But -she still kept her eyes closed. - -She could feel that her husband was still at her side. At length he -spoke. His voice was unsteady, as if he found it hard to speak at all. - -“I want to speak to you about something,” he said. - -Alma opened her eyes and glanced at him timidly. But Ketill was looking -fixedly at his horse’s mane as he went on: - -“It is an unpleasant matter, and I’m afraid it will distress you -somewhat. But it must be faced. And when the time comes I am sure you -will agree I have done rightly.” - -He paused for a moment, and then went on: - -“You saw the child?” - -He waited, as if for an answer, but Alma made no reply. - -“Did it not strike you as being extremely well-developed for a child -newly born? It is supposed to have been born on the way up.” - -Alma looked at him in astonishment. - -“Do you mean that the child is not theirs?” - -“The child is Runa’s. But Ormarr is not the father,” Ketill replied. “It -was born in March. And Ormarr was not in Iceland the previous spring.” - -Alma felt suddenly dizzy; she felt as if she must burst into tears, but -sat still, outwardly calm. Something told her that though there might be -something of truth in this, there was yet falsehood and mischief behind. - -Bitter words rose to her lips; it was as if her husband were making her -an accomplice in a deed worthy of Judas. But she dared not give vent to -her feelings, and only said: - -“Well, and if so, it is no concern of ours.” - -“It concerns us—as being of the family—and it concerns me, as a priest.” - -“What do you propose to do, then?” - -“You have not heard all as yet. You do not know what people are saying -throughout the parish—that the father of the child is—Ørlygur himself!” - -“It is a lie!” - -Alma was quivering with rage; she had never been so near to losing her -self-control. - -“I do not say it is true. Until it is proved, we must hope for the best. -But you will no doubt agree with me that the matter calls for the -strictest investigation. Ormarr and his father have treated the affair -with great secrecy—that looks bad, to begin with. Did you not notice -last year how Runa was kept out of the way when we were there? And can’t -you see now why it was? Has it never struck you that her marriage was -arranged with extraordinary haste? The whole thing was settled and done -in a couple of days. It is a very awkward business indeed for father; -the entire parish is against him. All his workpeople left the place this -spring, and he has been there all alone, with but one old woman, until -now.” - -“Why did they leave him?” - -“Probably because they knew what was said about him, and believed it -true. Very likely they knew of some little incident that proved it. And -after that, of course, they would not wish to have anything more to do -with him.” - -Alma was at a loss what to reply. She had a keen desire to defend -Ørlygur, for she fully believed he was innocent. But her brain was in a -whirl, and the one thing uppermost at the moment was an intense hatred -of her husband. But she would not give it rein. She was helpless, and -suffering bitterly. - -“What do you think yourself?” she asked at last, in a low voice. - -“I do not allow myself to _think_. But I have determined to have the -matter cleared up. That is all.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -Sunday came. A glorious spring day with a bright blue cloudless sky and -the air a-quiver with heat; a day of smiles without a shadow, breathing -peace to all mankind. - -Coming out into the sunshine on such a day, free from the cares and toil -of everyday life, the heart seemed filled with a natural desire to give -thanks and praise to God for the blessing of life. - -But on this Sunday, there were few in all Hofsfjordur whose minds were -bent on praising the Lord. Folk hastened to the service, but their -thoughts were not with God. This day, the first Sunday after Ormarr -Ørlygsson’s homecoming, was a day of mark; something, all knew, was -about to happen. And all repaired to the church to see. Even tiny -children were brought thither; no one was willing to stay at home -minding children today. - -Sera Ketill was up and about before any of his people at Hof. He moved -about restlessly outside the house, avoiding the grass, which was still -thickly drenched with dew. - -Again and again he glanced over in the direction of Borg. A thin bluish -column of smoke could be seen rising straight up above the chimneys of -his old home. And involuntarily he found in it something like a symbol -of peace. There was something of a covenant in the ray of smoke that -rose as it were from some sacrifice acceptable to the Lord. - -How was this day to end? Sera Ketill asked himself the question, and -wondered who would be coming to church from Borg that day. - -Ørlygur and Ormarr moved about in silence, each bent upon his own tasks. -There was much to be done; they had made no attempt as yet to secure new -hands. It had been agreed that Ørlygur should go to church, the others -remaining at home. Had it not been for his duties there, Ørlygur himself -would rather have stayed away. - -Early that morning he had fetched in Sleipnir, his saddle-horse, from -the fields, and stabled it without fodder to be ready for the road. He -let another animal into the box to keep it company, and the pair -remained there during the morning, relieving the tedium of their -confinement by licking each other. - -At last it was time to start. Ørlygur had saddled his horse, but delayed -moving off, finding this thing and that to attend to, as if loth to -leave the place. Now and again he stopped still, looking out over the -country round; from all quarters he could see his fellow-parishioners -come riding; all moving towards Hof as the centre of attraction. He -noticed, too, that the enclosure round the vicarage was already dark -with the crowd of those who had come early. - -Finally, realizing that he had no time to spare if he wished to arrive -in time, he stepped off resolutely. Then he turned and stopped. - -Ormarr was in the courtyard, teaching a new-born lamb to suck. He had -been an adept at the work in his younger days, but had forgotten his -deftness now, and was fumbling awkwardly. - -Ørlygur went straight up to him. - -“I think you had better come with me, after all,” he said. “I feel—I -feel lonely today, Ormarr. Never mind the lamb, it will manage till we -come back.” - -Ormarr looked up. There was something strange about his father’s manner -today, something he had not noticed before. He rose up without a word, -saddled a horse, and a few minutes later father and son set out. - -Where the road was good, they gave their horses rein. But Ormarr noticed -that, despite the pace, his father was constantly turning to look back -at Borg. A new fancy of his, he thought. - -There was a stretch of difficult going just ahead; on reaching it, they -slackened speed, and rode on side by side at a walk. Suddenly, and -without preamble, Ørlygur said: - -“I had a strange dream last night. Curiously distinct it was too. I was -standing on the hill outside”—he nodded towards Borg—“and a funeral came -along the road—this very way—towards the house. A great procession, the -biggest I had even seen. And the strange thing about it was that it was -coming from the church towards Borg—instead of the opposite way.” - -He paused for a moment, and continued: - -“And that was not all. I was quite sure that it was my own corpse the -people were following. And yet I stood there on the hill myself, looking -on. If it means anything at all, I suppose it should be taken by -contraries—to say that I am to be buried alone, without a soul to follow -me to the grave.” - -They reached the level road as he ceased speaking, and Ørlygur at once -galloped on ahead; Ormarr did not overtake him till they had reached the -vicarage. Neither spoke. - -There was a numerous attendance of people. But it was noticeable that -they did not talk together, but busied themselves tidying up after the -ride with nervous care. There was none of the customary laughter and -easy conversation, all seemed curiously silent. Neighbours did not move -to greet one another and shake hands; and none entered the church. All -waited, a silent crowd, with their minds at the highest pitch of -sinister anticipation. - -For the second time the church bell called to the worshippers to enter. -But no one moved. - -At sight of Ørlygur and his son riding up, the crowd remained impassive, -merely staring at the new arrivals as they approached. But they watched -them closely, with occasional side-glances at others, who appeared to be -watching likewise. - -As Ørlygur rode up, he divined at once that no one had as yet entered -the church; that all were waiting for himself and his son. They were -watching them, too. One glance showed him the situation, and his anger -rose suddenly. Usually, he dismounted outside the fence. But now, he -galloped straight across the enclosure, up to the wall of the -churchyard, Ormarr following at his heels. The crowd had to give way -hastily to avoid being trampled down. Still there was no murmur, only -the same watching glances from all. And all could see that the master of -Borg was in no gentle mood today. - -Suddenly the gathering moved with one accord towards the church and -poured in. The bell called for the third time—a strange, solitary sound -in the quiet air. - -Ørlygur and Ormarr secured their horses and went straight into the -church. They were the last to enter, save for old Kata, who hobbled -along, waving her coloured kerchief in the air to ward off invisible -ghosts and evil things. - -Ørlygur read the opening prayer, and the service proceeded as usual, -until Sera Ketill ascended into the pulpit. - -Ørlygur was in his usual seat in the choir. Alma sat at his side. Ormarr -had found a place in the nave, just in front of the organ. - -When Sera Ketill appeared in the pulpit, a dead silence filled the -church, as if all had ceased to breathe. For a moment the priest stood -silent, with a thoughtful mien. Then he spoke—a little unsteadily at -first, and fumbling with his fingers at the notes before him. But soon -he gained power, and spoke out strongly and in a clear, resonant voice. -His hands clutched the edge of the pulpit with such force that the -knuckles showed white. - -“Brethren in Christ,” he began, “before proceeding to interpret the text -for today, I have a painful duty to perform—a painful duty indeed. Let -me therefore fortify myself by supplication. I ask you all to say with -me the Lord’s Prayer: - -“Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy kingdom come. -Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our -daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that -trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us -from evil: For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever -and ever. Amen.” - -Sera Ketill wiped his brow. - -“Yes: Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. And we will serve -Thee only. Grant us strength that no earthly ties may keep us from Thee -and Thy way. That our duty to Thee may ever be set before all else; that -we may willingly take up our cross and bear it in patience as did Thy -well-beloved Son.” - -Sera Ketill paused a moment, and then continued: - -“Brethren in Christ, we all know how the Son of God cleansed the Temple -at Jerusalem. Today a like duty is laid upon us, the meanest of His -servants. To the Almighty, this poor house of prayer is no less sacred -than the great Temple; it is the House of the Lord, and no evil must be -suffered to dwell therein. And those who have given offence to God -cannot be suffered to enter His House until they have begged of Him -forgiveness for their sins, kneeling before him with a humble and a -contrite heart. - -“There is here in our midst an old man who is a cause of offence among -this congregation, together with his son, the sharer of his sin. - -“The son took to wife a woman out of his father’s house. And the woman -has given birth to a child that cannot be the offspring of her husband. -Whose, then, is the child? It is said that the old man is the father. I -have seen the child, and I cannot but believe that it must have been -born earlier than is said. Indeed, I am certain of this. And my wife has -seen the child, and can testify to the same. The woman, then, has borne -a child in sin. But who is the father? - -“Until this matter is made clear, until the parentage of this child is -established according to the laws of the Church, we cannot tolerate -among us those from whom this offence is come. We cannot suffer them to -worship God under the same roof. - -“And now, Ørlygur à Borg, and you, Ormarr Ørlygsson, I call on you, in -the name of God, to leave this holy place. Amen.” - -Alma leaned over towards Ørlygur and grasped his arm. From the -commencement of her husband’s speech she had divined his intention, and -now in a moment she realized what had been vague to her before. - -Ørlygur sat motionless throughout his son’s denunciation, but his brow -was firmly knit, and a strange light shone in his eyes. - -As Ketill finished, Ormarr rose to leave the church. Passing by the -pulpit, he looked straight at his brother; both men were deadly pale. -Ormarr stood still for a moment, and said: - -“You are playing a dangerous game, brother Ketill.” Then he passed on. - -But now Ørlygur rose to his feet, Alma still clinging to his arm, and -called out in a loud, firm voice: - -“Ormarr!” - -Ormarr stopped, looked back, and strode to his father’s side. - -Alma still held the old man’s arm. She clung to him, and begged -imploringly: “Do not leave me here; take me back with you to Borg. Let -me come with you and stay with you there.” - -Ørlygur patted her trembling hands, and said gently; “Ormarr will look -after you, my dear.” And to Ormarr he said: “Go with her home, and -protect her, whatever happens. Do not let her leave Borg unless by her -own desire. Be kind to her, my son. And now go, both of you. I will come -presently.” - -But Alma held Ormarr back, and they did not leave the church. - -Ørlygur had followed them down the aisle toward the door. Then he turned -back, not noticing that they remained inside the church. When he had -left them, old Kata emerged from her corner, and going up to Ormarr, -asked: “May I come with you to Borg and stay?” - -Alma caught her hand, and Ormarr nodded in consent. Alma was trembling -pitifully; Ormarr and Kata had to support her. - -Ørlygur à Borg walked back toward the pulpit, stopped in front of it, -and said: - -“This is the House of God. But it seems that the Evil One has usurped -His place. I am to be driven out from it—well and good. But before I go, -let me tell what all these righteous folk are full of zeal to know.” - -And pointing to the priest in the pulpit, he went on: - -“There is the father of the child.” - -When Alma heard the old man’s words, it was as if the inward tension of -the past months had suddenly given way. Her features relaxed, she ceased -to tremble, and her eyes lost their fire. She felt as if she were -sinking into a sea of mist. And then to nothingness. - -The light of her mind was suddenly extinguished, her soul had taken -flight, back to the eternity whence it had come. Only her body remained, -panting, unharmed, a living monument to that which had gone, an empty -dwelling, that has not yet crumbled, though the last living thing it -sheltered, the last thought, is gone. - -A wave of astonishment swept through the congregation at Ørlygur’s -revelation. Then a moment after all was quiet once more. - -Sera Ketill was still in the pulpit, pale as a corpse. He had reckoned -with every possibility save only this; no form of defence, no -counter-attack, but he would have had his answer ready. But this.... It -was not like his father. - -It was all over now. The words that meant his destruction were spoken. -And yet he was still alive. The earth had not swallowed him up, no fire -had descended from heaven to consume him. He was unhurt; ruined beyond -help, yet he stood there as if nothing had happened. It seemed somehow -ridiculous. - -Ørlygur faced his son, speaking directly to him: - -“How could you do this thing? And how could ever God permit it? How -could He tolerate a hypocrite in His House? My son, I do not hate you, -and yet I say: Be thou accursed until repentance and charity have filled -your soul. Ay, I curse my son, not because I hate him, but because of my -love for him. Accursed—be accursed until our Heavenly Father shall have -let the glory of His goodness penetrate into your soul, and the darkness -of the Evil One give place to light. May your soul never rest, and may -it never leave its earthly dwelling, until Almighty God has given the -sign of His forgiveness!” - -The congregation sat in awed silence while Ørlygur was speaking. When -the old man had finished, he turned to leave the church. But he -tottered, and would have fallen had he not grasped at the side of a seat -for support. - -Ormarr hurried to his side, leaving Kata to look after Alma. Ørlygur -sank helpless into his son’s arms. The congregation looked on as if -spellbound; no one moved. - -The old man put his hand to his heart and murmured; “I am dying. -Heavenly Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” - -Ormarr laid him down on the floor of the church, and stood bending over -him, at a loss what next to do. The old man seemed trying to speak. -Ormarr put his ear close to his father’s mouth, and caught the words: - - “... home ... to Borg.” - -They were the last words Ørlygur à Borg ever uttered. - -Ormarr felt his father’s heart and pulse—it was all over. Lifting the -body tenderly in his arms, he carried it out of the church. - -Old Kata, standing by the entrance, crossed herself and muttered -something about the ways of the Lord.... Then to herself she added: - -“So it was _his_ death the ravens came to tell!” - -And Kata took the unconscious Alma by the hand and followed after Ormarr -and his burden. - -When they had left, an old peasant rose and walked out of the church. -Then the congregation followed, walking with downcast eyes, a few only -casting furtive glances in the direction of the pulpit, where Sera -Ketill stood. - -Ormarr carried his father across the churchyard to the horses, Kata and -Alma following close behind. When he saw his sister-in-law’s condition, -he shivered. - -Kata was watching him. “Ay,” she said, “her poor troubled soul’s found -rest at last. And we should thank the Lord that He took her reason. Let -me come and nurse her—she’ll need no other help as long as I live.” - -Ormarr was puzzled to think how he should get his father’s body and the -two women home, with but two horses for the journey. Sleipnir could -easily carry him and his father’s body. With a side-saddle, Alma could -have mounted the second horse, Kata leading it. As it was, the women -would have to walk, and he must ride at a foot-pace the whole way. There -was nothing else to be done that he could see. - -He was on the point of telling Kata his plan when he perceived the -congregation crowding round. The old peasant who had first left the -church came up to him, and said: - -“You will let us carry the old chief home to Borg?” - -Ormarr turned on him furiously. - -“You have killed my father among you; not one of you shall touch his -body.” - -But the old peasant would not give way. His voice was thick with emotion -as he went on: - -“We have done a great injustice to your father. You will not forbid us -now to make amends as far as we can. Had he lived, we should have come -to him, to ask his forgiveness. And for all that you are his son, you -know him little if you think he would have sent us away unheard. He was -too generous for that.” - -Ormarr saw that there were tears in the man’s eyes. He glanced round the -circle, and saw everywhere bowed heads and evident distress. And -suddenly he remembered his father’s dream. - -“True,” he said. “It is your right to pay him the last honour on earth. -Carry him home.” - -A bier was found, and the party moved off, with Ormarr at the head. -Alma, with eyes staring blankly before her, walked between him and old -Kata. - -All the others, men, women, and children, followed on foot, leading -their horses. Never had the parish seen so impressive a funeral train, -nor such a numerous following. - -They moved but slowly, step by step, all the long road to Borg, the men -relieving one another at the bier. As soon as the body was lifted up, -they commenced with one accord to sing the beautiful funeral hymn: - - “_Alt eins og blomstrid eina._” - -They sang through all the verses, and when it was ended, another hymn -was sung; afterwards, the first again. - -Singing and sobbing, the procession moved on—a strange sight to see. The -birds circled round the train in silence, forgetting for a moment their -spring song. But the sky was clear and blue as before. - -So they passed along the way. When they reached the river, Ormarr took -Alma and Kata in his arms and carried them across. The men waded over -likewise, leading their horses; only the women and children crossed on -horseback. - -At last they came to Borg. The body of the chief was laid on a big table -in the hall, and another hymn was sung. The followers were about to move -off, when Ormarr turned to them and said: - -“You have carried my father home, and I thank you. I know that he was -always your friend, and if you will accept the friendship I offer you -now, it would be as he wished. I hope to hold the place he held amongst -you—that of a brother and friend. And if you have need of me in any way, -you know where to find me. You must be tired and hungry now. If you will -break bread under my roof now, before you return, then I take it that -the good-will that was of old between Borg and its neighbours is there -still.” - -When he had finished speaking, he had to shake hands with all. At his -suggestion the women went out to the kitchen and pantries to prepare -food. - -It was late, and all had been well cared for, when the guests rode away. -But, before they left, the whole staff of servants and hands who had -been at Borg that spring had returned, having obtained release from -their later masters, and permission from Ormarr to re-enter their former -service. - -Alma never recovered. She wandered about like a living corpse. Old Kata -nursed her as well as she could, consoling herself and others with the -thought that she did not suffer. Alma was no longer conscious of joy or -pain. - - * * * * * - -Sera Ketill stood in the pulpit, watching his people leave the church. -He made no movement, but followed all with observant eyes. - -He saw how the scene had affected his wife, and that she had sought -refuge with his father. And he understood that he had lost her for ever. -Then, marking the change in her expression, he suspected the truth: that -she had lost her reason on hearing her husband denounced by his own -father. - -He listened to his father’s curse, and saw him sink to the ground and -die. He heard the congregation singing hymns outside the church. Then -gradually all sound died away ... the last he heard was a vague -murmur—fragments of the singing borne by errant winds towards him -through the open door. - -Still he remained in the pulpit, leaning on his arms, as if nothing had -happened. He did not think. A scornful smile seemed frozen on his lips; -he suddenly realized that he was sneering, and wondered how long he had -been doing so. And then it came to him painfully that he could not rest -until he knew what it was all about; he must wake, and look at things -and see. And suddenly it dawned upon him that he was sneering at -himself. He drew himself up and laughed aloud, as if in an endeavour to -break the terrible stillness of the church. He marked the harsh, uncanny -sound of his own laughter. And, stepping down from the pulpit, he left -the church. - -From the churchyard he could see the funeral procession moving towards -Borg. He watched it for a while, tried to laugh, but in vain. He went -home, and found the house empty. Looked into the servants’ quarters—the -place was deserted. He went out again and searched about outside. - -Coming back to the house, after making sure that there was not a soul to -be seen, he found a dog beside the door. The animal slunk away. Ketill -spoke to it softly, beckoned to it, trying with friendly voice and -gesture to call it to him. But the dog would not come, and finally ran -away. - -Ketill looked after it without any sign of emotion. Then he went indoors -and sat down at his writing-table. He sat there all through the day, -still wearing his vestments. Thoughts crowded in upon him—thoughts that -he could not drive away. - -He had sinned against life, taking the gift of life in vain. And now he -was alone, an outcast, rejected and despised by all. Even a dog disowned -him. - -He had sinned against God, taking His name in vain. The House of God was -closed to him. Alone, cursed by his father and abandoned by his God! - -He had sinned against love; he had used his utmost efforts to ruin the -lives of two innocent women. God had intervened to save them: the one -through the love of human beings, the other by taking away her reason. -And he—he was left alone and shunned by all. The world was full of love -around him, on every side were human beings, his fellow-creatures, -loving and being loved. To him only love was denied; for him alone there -was no kindly thought in any single heart. All who knew him hated and -despised him. He had crushed the flower of love underfoot—it would bloom -no more on his way, nor gladden him by its fragrance. - -Alone. And what should he do now? Why could he not sink to the earth and -die? Why was not his body given to the worms? Why could he not rot away, -and return to dust? What had he to do with life now? Or was it that life -had not yet done with him? - -He made no effort to check the current of his thoughts, but suffered -them to come and go as they pleased. - -Tears flowed down his cheeks. There was a strange sensation at his heart -now, as if despair and loneliness were to become a source of joy; -something akin to what the earth must feel when spring casts loose the -fetters of winter. - -He sat on. The faint, scarcely perceptible northern twilight crept into -the room; he did not mark it. He had forgotten the existence of time. -His only thought was that he was alone. - -Alone. - -And suddenly he fell on his knees. On hands and knees he crept out of -the room, through the passage, out into the courtyard and across the -enclosure, through the churchyard up to the door of the church. - -He pressed his forehead against the granite steps, and sobbed bitterly. - -The sun showed in the north, a dull red glow, with the sky deeper and -darker round it. Farther off hung clouds, a delicate rose, neatly and -regularly in tier upon tier. Night, but the sun was there. The meadows -were thickly veiled with dew. All nature was at peace. - -But before the door of one poor dark little church lay the priest, his -forehead pressed against the cold stone. - -And for the first time in his life he prayed from his heart to the God -in whom he had never before believed. - -“Peace, Lord, give peace to my soul!” - -But there was no peace. - -Ketill lay there long, sobbing and praying. Then, rising, he stood with -bowed head and clasped hands, and whispered: - -“Lord, I will seek Thee and Thy peace. My life shall be a prayer and a -cry to Thee. And Thou who hast said: ‘Seek, and ye shall find; ask, and -it shall be given unto you’—Thou wilt not deny me peace. A humble and a -contrite heart....” - - - - - BOOK III - GUEST THE ONE-EYED - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -A grey, dull day—not a glimpse of the sun since morning. - -A man came hobbling along the little-used path, a solitary figure under -the leaden sky. The clouds hung so low that it seemed as if the heavens -had fallen, and were supported only by the mountain peaks on the -horizon. A grey, dull day—and the man’s spirit was grey and dull within -him. All that the day had given him was a fragment of a song that had -sprung into his mind; he hummed it half-consciously as he went along. - - “No sun over the sand, - Waste, waste. - No eagle over land, - Dead, dead.” - -His voice was deep and hollow-sounding; in its depth a ring of -loneliness and unsatisfied longing. There seemed a power of fate and -sorrow behind it, as behind the dull roar of the sea. The eternal -restlessness of life, and the boundless seeking of the soul quivered in -this old man’s voice. Strong, yet soft, its tones had power at times to -move those who heard to sadness in themselves. - -He felt a peculiar comfort in the sound of his own voice when wandering -thus alone; and he was a man who wandered much alone. And for all that -he carried no heavy burden, his steps often faltered. - -His right leg was crippled, which made journeying none the easier; the -stout staff he carried was but a poor substitute for a sound limb. - -Despite his infirmity, he tramped the country far and wide. Just now, he -was on his way across the chain of hills to the north of Hofsfjordur, -known as the Dark Mountains. - -He had never been in Hofsfjordur. All the other districts round he had -visited many a time in his twenty years of vagabond life, but somehow he -had always passed by this. If any asked him why, he might answer that it -was because of the bad roads. Yet he was well used to roads that were no -better. - -However it might be, this time he was on his way. The day was drawing to -a close, and he had still far to go. The night would be dark, and -hopeless then to find his way; there was nothing for it but to find some -sheltered spot where he could rest. - -He was thoroughly tired, and his lameness was more marked than usual; -his sound leg too was aching from its unfair share of the work. He -rocked along uncertainly, like a machine on the verge of breakdown, or a -windmill making its last rotations before a calm. - -His heavy coat dragged like the wings of a wounded bird. It was a -picture well in keeping with the landscape, the man with his long white -beard, the tangled grey hair showing below a big soft hat of the -indeterminate colour of age. From beneath his bushy brows showed the -glimpse of an eye—he had but one—almost unearthly in its intelligence -and penetrating glance. His whole appearance, with his beggar’s pouch -and limping gait, presented an almost unreal effect, harmonizing to a -striking degree with the surroundings. He seemed to be in his element in -this waste tract, beneath the low-lying clouds that at times almost -enveloped him. - -He limped on, a monarch in the realm of mist and solitude. - -But there was nothing of power in his thoughts. He simply felt at home -here, and in no way disheartened at the prospect of a night in the open. - -Again and again he hummed his fragment of a song. It was his way to make -up such refrains as he walked, humming them hour after hour to while -away the tedium of the road. Also, it was a form of expression, giving -relief to his feelings and easing his mind. - -At last, after innumerable repetitions of his melancholy chant, he fell -silent. Not all at once, but stopping for a little, then taking it up -and stopping again, with longer and longer pauses between. And his -glance grew dull, his brow wrinkled and furrowed. Night was at hand; he -stopped on a sudden as if to make a survey of his surroundings. - -“Here am I, a worm in all creation,” he muttered. “And the day has left -me up on a desolate hill. Make haste, Eye, and find us a place to rest.” - -Gradually the fog lifted, and the sky cleared. The darkness, however, -grew more intense, and the contours of the hills were soon almost -indistinguishable. - -The wanderer glanced around, searching for some corner that might offer -some little shelter. Comfort and warmth were not to be expected in these -regions. But at length he spied two boulders leaning one against the -other. “Like brothers,” he thought to himself, and added aloud: - -“Good evening, brothers!” - -The sense of loneliness vanished, and his heart was glad; he seemed to -feel already a bond of kindliness between him and this his night’s -abode. Pleasanter thoughts rose in his mind, and he gripped his faithful -staff with a heartiness that might once have been extended to his -fellow-men. Now, the staff was almost his only friend. He spoke to it -aloud, thanking it for help during the day; he even felt somewhat shamed -at not having done so before. He dug and scraped away a heap of moss and -little stones, to fill the northern opening between the boulders, making -a kind of cave. - -This done, he opened his wallet and took out some food, given him -earlier in the day by some kindly soul, and ate it, lying in the shelter -of his cave. When the meal was finished, he rose to his knees, and hid -his face for a moment in his hands, as if silently returning thanks. - -Then after some shifting about, he curled himself up in the most -convenient position within the cramped space at his disposal. He patted -the hard stones, and spoke, half aloud, as his thoughts came. - -“Feel strangely happy this evening. Not lonely now, just at home. Nice -soft sand here to lie on. And the stones that lie there saying nothing, -they are like friends. Battered about, like me, by sun and storms and -time. Ay, we’ve much in common, for all they stay still and I’m for ever -moving from place to place. Who knows—perhaps this night may be my -longest at last. Must come some time—some night be night for ever. If -so, ’tis a good place for old bones to rest. Maybe there comes One -tonight to take the unrest out of my soul and give me the peace I’ve -sought. If so, why, call up all the worms and creeping things that live -on flesh, and make a feast of me.” - -Drowsiness crept over him; he closed his eyes and prayed: - -“Lord, see the end of one more day in Thy service. Lord, may it please -Thee soon to lift the burden from my shoulders—the burden of sin. Lord, -Thou knowest my heart is full of penitence and distress; Lord, grant me -soon Thy peace. Amen!” - -He ceased, and lay for a while without opening his eyes. Then, turning -over on his side, he huddled himself up for warmth, and resigned himself -to what the night might bring—rest, or the fever of sleeplessness. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Morning broke with the clear brightness of an autumn sky above the -hills. - -At the first sight of dawn, the old man limped out from his cave, beat -his hands together, and stamped his sound leg repeatedly, to get some -warmth into his body. And as he did so, he thought: - -“So! Once more Death has passed me by. Not worth taking....” - -Then, penitently, he whispered: - -“Lord, Thy will be done! Thanks be to Thee for the night that is gone, -and for all trials that are sent from Thee. Be not angry, Lord, if I -long for the peace of Death.” - -The sun came up, and the man sat down on a stone, bared his head and -stretched out his hands to meet the warmth of the first rays; he smiled -towards the light, that gave but little warmth as yet. - -When the first cold of waking had passed, he ate his last scraps of -food, and prepared to move. - -The mood of last night and his gloomy thoughts seemed strange to -remember now; he smiled involuntarily at the difference between his -feeling then and now. - -“Never twice alike,” he murmured. “What’s truth, I wonder? Can there be -any truth in thoughts and feelings that change between dark and dawn? -Where’s the note that lasts and does not change?” - -He turned to go, when something made him pause. And, smiling indulgently -at himself for his foolishness, he stooped and picked away the moss and -stones with which he had closed the opening the night before. Then he -patted the two rocks that had sheltered him, and went on his way with an -easier mind. Who could say? Perhaps they were lonely there, and would -have been sorry to feel the way barred to the passage of the wind that -told so many things as it sang through the sharp-edged cleft. - -He limped off, moving stiffly at first, his limbs still feeling the -cold. He found the path he had left the night before in his search for a -resting-place, and went on his way towards Hofsfjordur. - -The sun rose higher in the heavens, and dried the dew from the rocks, -warming their surface where they faced it, while the northward sides -were still dark with moisture. In the shade, the moss glistened with -dew. As far as eye could see, there was no growth save the brown and -green of moss. But the old wanderer felt quite content; he was at home -among these rock-strewn hills, so rich in their weird grouping and -fantastic outlines. He was among friends here, and as he passed the -massive boulders he touched them with his hand caressingly, grateful for -the warmth that passed into his blood. The sun had given it, and they -passed it on. - -He reached Langeryg, a narrow ridge between two steep ravines, and -stopped to look around him. Farther on was a meadow of pale green grass, -but not a living soul was to be seen. - -Slowly he went on his way, keeping carefully to the middle between the -steep and dangerous precipices on either hand. A sinister place this, -and of ill repute, perilous especially in mist or darkness. Even now, in -the light of day, the wind moaned dismally round the sharp rocks, to the -one side, that known as Death’s Cliff, though, strangely enough, no -sound came from the other, that was called the Silent Cliff. There was a -legend current that the two had been daughters of a king—one good, the -other wicked, one dark, the other fair. And the silent chasm was the -good princess who sat listening in horror to the evil doings of her -sister. And it was said that if any could be found to cast himself -voluntarily over the Silent Cliff, he would escape unharmed, and the -ravines would close for ever. - -Half-way along the track, the old man felt tempted to peer down over the -edge of Death’s Cliff. Mastering a feeling of dread, he crept cautiously -to the brink, and looked down, but could discern nothing in the darkness -below. Suddenly a great black bird fluttered up out of the gloom, and he -started back. The bird uttered a hoarse cry—and the man smiled to -himself. Only a raven, that had been to visit the princess—or perhaps to -see if there were any unfortunate creatures there on which to feast. - -With a sigh of relief he drew back from his perilous position, and threw -himself down on a patch of grass to rest. Grass was a welcome thing -among these barren hills, and the sight of it gladdened him. He found -himself studying each little stalk as if it were a wonder to be -remembered. - -And suddenly tears rose to his eyes; his lips quivered, and he murmured: - -“Ay, there are many little joys in life....” - -He glanced down the path ahead; first a flat stretch of grass, and then -over a long, stony rise. There at the top he knew was a cairn, from -which one could look out over Hofsfjordur. - -Somehow or other, he felt disinclined to go on, and yet there was -something that urged him forward. He felt nervous and anxious, as a boy -about to undertake some responsible task for the first time. - -When at last he reached the summit of the slope, he stopped and looked -down. There it was at last, the shore where he had spent his childhood. -There lay the blue fjord, the rockiness, the glittering stream, the -grassy slopes—all that he had so often thought of with affectionate -longing. Ay, he had come to love it all—since he had left it. - -Tears dimmed his vision as he looked. And yet he was happy. He had -crossed the boundary now; he was coming home. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -He had been standing for some time leaning against the cairn, when -suddenly he heard a dog barking. He turned in the direction of the -sound, and perceived a young man approaching. At sight of a -fellow-creature, he forgot all else. - -The newcomer called to his dog, and the animal was silent at once. But -the voice of the stranger went to the wanderer’s heart as had never a -voice before. - -He limped towards him, and held out his hand, a glad smile on his -wrinkled face. - -The two exchanged greetings, and stood for a moment taking stock of each -other. The evident emotion of the older man was not lost upon the -stranger. - -“A beautiful day,” said the latter after a pause. - -“Do your sheep stray as far afield as this?” asked the other. He seemed -to be taking in every detail of the stranger’s appearance as he spoke. -He listened, moreover, rather to his voice than to his words, though the -other was not aware of this—as little as he guessed that the old man had -seen his face many years ago, and recognized him now. - -“Who are you?” asked the young man, somewhat ill at ease. - -“A poor wanderer,” was the reply. - -“And your name?” - -The old man hesitated. “My name,” he said at last—“there’s none -remembers it for aught but ill.” - -“Where are you going now?” - -“Going? I go from place to place, and live by grace of God and my -fellow-men. I am going to Hofsfjordur. I have never been there before.” - -“Then you will come to Borg, no doubt?” - -“Yes,” said the old man, with a queer smile. “I shall come to Borg.” - -“You have not seen any sheep on your way? Or any sign?” - -“Nay, naught but a raven flying up from below Death’s Cliff. ’Tis the -only living creature I have seen. Were you going farther?” - -“No. I can see as far as I need from here. We can go down together; I -have looked enough for today.” - -“Have you lost many sheep?” - -“No. Only a white lamb with black feet and head. It was a sensible -beast, and strong, when it went up with the rest in the spring—I can -hardly think any fox could have harmed it. But it was a favourite, and I -must find it.” - -“You are from Borg, then?” queried the old man, looking away. - -“Yes. My name is Ørlygur.” - -“Ørlygur the younger, that will be?” - -“There is no other now. Ørlygur, my grandfather, died many years ago.” - -“Yes, that is true. He died in the church at Hof. I was there at the -time. True....” - -“So you _have_ been here before?” - -“No—no. It was—my other self that was here then.” - -The young man seemed busy with thoughts of his own; he took no notice of -the strange reply. He stood gazing for some moments into distance, then -turned and looked searchingly at the wanderer. - -“Then you must have known Sera Ketill? He is dead, too.” - -“Yes, I knew Sera Ketill,” repeated the old man. And in a curiously -toneless voice he went on: “He is dead, too. Yes....” - -There was a long pause. The young man realized that he could not here, -in broad daylight, ask all he would of this stranger, who, he perceived, -could tell him much. Such talk was for the dark, when men can speak -together without reserve. - -“Will you come back with me now, to Borg?” he asked. - -“No. I must go elsewhere.” - -“But you will come to Borg? You give me your word?” - -“I give you my word. No beggar ever came this way and did not ask for -alms at Borg.” - -Ørlygur was somewhat embarrassed, and said in a kindly tone: - -“Let me give you some food now. We can share it.” - -“Heaven bless you,” said the old man. - -They walked down the slope together, and found a seat on a grassy mound. -Ørlygur opened his haversack and took out first a new pair of shoes. - -“Take these, will you not?” he asked shyly. “Yours are badly worn. I -brought these with me in case my own gave out. But they will last me -home easily.” - -The old man took them gladly, and let his fingers glide caressingly -along the clean soles. He put them on, and looked up with deep gratitude -in his face. - -“Fine shoes,” he said, and laughed happily. - -“It does not take much to please you,” said Ørlygur, with a smile. “And -now let us have something to eat.” - -They ate in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Ørlygur was -watching his companion, and noticed now for the first time that one eye -was closed. The man’s appearance seemed less repulsive now than at -first. Evidently, one who had seen better days. - -When the old man had finished he wiped his mouth and murmured something -to himself, then added aloud: - -“Thanks be to God.” And he reached out for Ørlygur’s hand in thanks, -looking at it closely as he did so. - -The man’s touch had a curious effect upon Ørlygur, at once pleasing and -the reverse. He was well used to shaking hands with men, whether friends -or strangers, and did so usually without a thought. But with this beggar -it was different; he felt an impulse to embrace him, and at the same -time shrank from giving him his hand at all. - -They walked on side by side, but for a long time no word was spoken. -Often the old man stopped, and leaned on his staff to rest. At length -they reached the point where the road branched off to Nordurdalur. Here -they halted, and sat down without a word. - -The old man was the first to speak. - -“You will cross the stream now, I take it, and take the shorter road. I -am going down alongside the stream. I can reach Bolli in an hour’s time. -There is still some one living there?” - -“You must know the neighbourhood well,” said Ørlygur. “Yes; a widow -lives there with her daughter.” And he blushed. - -The old man noticed it and smiled. “Here is a young man who is still a -child,” he thought. “Cannot speak of the widow’s daughter without -blushing. If I had not been a stranger he would not have spoken of her -at all.” - -Aloud, he said: “I hope they’ll give me leave to sleep in a barn -tonight. You’re not going that way yourself?” - -Ørlygur looked aside. “No,” he said shortly. - -“Shall I tell them I’ve met you—by way of greeting?” he asked. - -“Yes.” - -Ørlygur did not look up. The old man rose and came towards him. -“Good-bye,” he said, offering his hand. - -“And thank you for good company.” - -“Good-bye and thanks.” - -Ørlygur sat looking after the old man as he went. Then, suddenly -springing to his feet, he ran after him and asked: - -“Will you not tell me your name?” - -“Men call me ‘Guest the One-eyed,’” answered the wanderer quietly, and -smiled. - -Ørlygur said nothing, but his face showed that the name was not unknown -to him. - -“Good-bye, again, Ørlygur à Borg.” - -“Good-bye, Guest One-eyed, and God be with you,” answered Ørlygur -reverently, pressing the other’s hand. - -The wanderer went on his way, following the course of the stream. -Ørlygur watched him till he was out of sight, and stood for a long while -looking down the way he had gone. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -The sun had vanished behind the western heights when Ørlygur at last -roused himself from gazing down the valley. The figure had disappeared -long since. - -The name of Guest the One-eyed had always seemed to him a part of some -fantastic story; now, however, it had become a reality; he had seen and -spoken to the man. - -He knew that this Guest was a wandering beggar, and had heard many -stories current concerning him. He knew also that Guest the One-eyed had -never before visited Hofsfjordur—possibly it was this fact which had led -him to regard the stories as stories only, without reality. Now that he -had learned that the man had apparently lived in Hofsfjordur before, -under another name, it seemed strange to him—it had never struck him -before that the name of Guest the One-eyed must have had some natural -origin. - -As with all young and simple folk who had heard of Guest the One-eyed, -Ørlygur felt an affection for the singular character of report. Many -were the instances on record of kindness and courtesy shown by the -wanderer in his journeyings. He had lost one eye in saving a child from -a burning farm; his crippled leg was the result of his having flung -himself in the way of a sledge that was hurrying towards a dangerous -cliff—the life he had thus saved being that of no more romantic -personage than an elderly and by no means beautiful servant girl. This -latter incident had been the cause of some ill-placed amusement among -the peasantry, for it was known that the girl had been merely making a -foolhardy attempt to win the heart of one of the labourers near by. Her -rescuer, however, before leaving the farm, made it his business to see -that the marriage was duly accomplished. - -Ørlygur knew, also, that Guest the One-eyed had a peculiar faculty of -getting over difficulties and removing misunderstandings; in more than -one instance he had been the means of ending an irreconcilable feud and -establishing firm friendship in its stead. - -A legendary hero in real life, and gifted with wisdom far beyond that of -his fellows. Yet he never used his powers for his own advantage. Nobler -than those around him, he was nevertheless content to tramp the country -in rags, with a beggar’s staff. In point of intelligence, he seemed -fitted to be the adviser of kings; yet he chose to live alone, and to -seek his rest in barns and outhouses. All of which led folk to look upon -him as the personification of something beneficent—the spirit of -kindliness and good-will. And Ørlygur himself had felt the same. - -He felt a great desire to follow after the old man; a craving for -adventure within him even suggested the idea of throwing in his lot with -him, and sharing his wanderings. - -But as the sun went down, he woke from his dreams and, pulling himself -together, made his way rapidly towards home. - -Half-way over the stream he stopped suddenly; the water seemed like a -flood of gold pouring towards him, glittering with strange reflections -in the evening light. And the play of colour, with the murmur of the -stream, held him for a moment entranced. Was it a dream, or had he -really met Guest the One-eyed in the flesh? - -Once across, however, the spell was broken, and Ørlygur was a boy again, -filled with no more romantic fancy for the moment than an impulse to run -races with his dog. He called to the animal, and they raced away, -tearing along at top speed. - -As he ran, Ørlygur was conscious that he was eager to get home and -relate his adventure; to tell of his conversation with the One-eyed -Guest, and announce the arrival of the hero. - -He raced on homeward, leaving the dog far behind. The animal followed at -its best, till it saw him leap the fence of the enclosure, when it gave -up and lay down panting breathlessly. - -Ørlygur likewise could run no more, and slackened to a walk. Noticing -his foster-father approaching, he made towards him. - -Ormarr Ørlygsson had seen the lad come tearing down the slope, his hat -off, and his hair streaming in the wind. He knew how the boy delighted -in long walks and violent outbursts of energy, but this exuberance of -spirits caused him some uneasiness at times—he knew that a day would -come when the natural safety-valve of youth would no longer suffice. Yet -he could not suppress a smile of pleasure at sight of the handsome lad -as he raced away at a speed which bade fair to tire even his horses and -dogs. - -Often he reflected how like the boy was to his father—the same fair -hair, the same blue eyes, the same splendid build; the figure of a young -god. - -And he thought, with a mingling of unconscious love and conscious hate, -of his brother Ketill, who had disappeared the night after that terrible -scene that had caused his father’s death and lost his wife her reason. -It was said that he had drowned himself—he had last been seen on the -cliffs near the fjord. True, the body had never been recovered. Still, -it might have been carried out to sea. - -After the revelation of that day, when the facts had been made common -knowledge, and seeing that Ketill had disappeared, in all likelihood -never to return, Ormarr had ceased to give out Ørlygur, Ketill’s and -Runa’s child, as his own. He and Runa had continued to live as man and -wife, but no children had been born to them. - -They lived peacefully and happily at the farm, with never an unkind word -between them. At all times, whether they spoke or were silent, there was -a mutual bond of perfect confidence and affection between them. Life had -brought them together in a strange and merciless fashion, but the innate -good sense and nobility of both had turned all to the good. They knew -that they had never been lovers in the sense in which love is generally -understood, yet, as the years passed, there grew up between them a -happiness of each in each that filled their lives. And their mutual -trust gave them a surer foundation on which to rest than any lovers’ -love could give. - -Ørlygur rarely gave a thought to the fact that Ormarr was not his real -father. He knew it, because Ormarr had once, in the presence of Runa, -told him how matters stood. No details had been given, but the facts -were plainly stated: Ormarr had promised to tell him the whole story -some day, if he wished. But Ørlygur perceived that the subject was a -painful one, and had asked no further since. - -Had it not been from fragments of information gathered in course of time -from one or another outside the home, he would have known but little. -What he did know made towards the conclusion that his father had been a -bad man, who had wrought harm to his own kin. But strangely enough, he, -Ørlygur, did not suffer thereby. The misfortunes that had come after -seemed to have wiped away, as it were, the stain on the family honour, -and as years went by, the recollection of Sera Ketill seemed gradually -to lose its association with the house of Borg. The story of Sera Ketill -lived on—a gruesome tale enough in itself. But it had become a thing -apart. - -And Ørlygur, growing up at Borg, became one of the family there, until -it was almost forgotten that he was in any way related to his father, -Sera Ketill of unblessed memory. Ørlygur was aware of this, and at times -could feel a kind of remorse at the thought—for, after all, his father -was his father.... And, as he grew up, he tried to picture to himself -what his father had really been. In his inmost heart he could not quite -believe him so utterly evil as report made out. - -But there was no one whom he could ask—no one, indeed, to whom he could -even speak on the subject at all. He could not bring himself to open a -painful subject with his foster-father or his mother. There was only old -Kata, the faithful attendant of the poor witless Danish Lady. And Kata’s -replies to his questioning were always wrapped up in mysterious, -incomprehensible allusions. Ørlygur, in common with others, regarded her -as entering on her second childhood, though she was sound and active as -ever in body. - -Ørlygur was still out of breath when he reached Ormarr. - -“Well,” said the latter, “did you find the lamb? You look very pleased -with yourself.” - -“No,” said Ørlygur. “But I found—whom do you think? Guest the One-eyed! -Right up at the very edge of the pastures, in the hills. And I went with -him as far as Nordura. I didn’t know who he was till we said good-bye. -And I gave him my shoes, and he is wearing them now.” - -Ørlygur’s delight and pride at this last fact were so evident that -Ormarr could not help smiling. - -“Why didn’t you bring him back home with you?” - -“He is coming. He promised faithfully he would. He was too tired now. -Said he was going down the stream to one of the nearest farms there.” - -Ormarr did not fail to remark that the boy had avoided mentioning Bolli, -but he made no sign of having noticed anything. He had an idea that -Ørlygur cherished a fancy for the daughter there, but it seemed wiser to -wait before taking any definite action. He was not at all pleased with -the idea of a match between Ørlygur and the child of the so-called -“widow” at Bolli. But he was loth to interfere with the boy’s -affairs—after all, he was of an age to choose for himself. And Ormarr -knew too well that the men of his race were apt to be headstrong in -affairs of the heart. On the other hand, if he were mistaken—if the -affair were not really serious, his interference would do no good. If -the damage were already done, and Ørlygur had made up his mind, then -there was nothing to be done but wait and see. - -Ørlygur himself did not know whether his parents were aware of his -affection for Snebiorg, the girl from Bolli. But he was convinced that -they would not agree with his choice. Even if they did not oppose it, he -knew it would pain them. - -Up to now, his will and conscience had always been in accord with -theirs. In this case he was quite clear as to his own feelings, but was -loth to bring matters to a head. There was time enough—no definite -promise had as yet been given on either side, though there was certainly -a tacit understanding between them. - -Ormarr and Ørlygur walked across the enclosure together. - -“And what else did he say—the old man?” asked Ormarr. - -Ørlygur was at a loss for an answer. He could not remember anything else -of importance, and it seemed somehow unsatisfactory to have met the -celebrated vagabond, renowned for his wisdom, and bring back no -utterance worthy of remark. He said nothing—and Ormarr did not press the -question, but walked beside him with the quiet, peculiar smile that had -become characteristic of him. - -But when they reached the house, Ørlygur found himself once more a -person of importance. Old Kata came hobbling towards him, and laid her -hand on his arm. - -“You have met him, and spoken. And felt joy of the meeting—more than -with any other you have ever met. The Lord is great, and our eyes are -blind. Yes; he will come now, and all will be well.” - -Kata hobbled off again to her mistress, whom she never left for any -length of time. - -The two men stood watching her with a smile. - -“She still has the gift, you see,” observed Ormarr. “No need to tell her -that you had met with Guest the One-eyed in the mountains.” - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -Alma dragged on her timeless, feelingless existence under old Kata’s -care. Age had left no mark on her, though it was twenty years now since -the tragic event that had deprived her of her reason. In the world about -her there had been changes: those who had been in the prime of life at -that time were now aged and infirm; the children of those days were -grown. But Alma was to all appearances the same as on the day when she -had left the church at Hof, released from suffering by the breakdown of -all capacity to feel or understand. She looked a trifle healthier—less -pale, that was all. - -And her life now had, despite its essential monotony, a certain -variation of a sort. She smiled happily when the sun shone, but wept -when the clouds hid it from her sight. Her joys were those of -childhood—fine weather, dumb animals, flowers, and the presence of -certain chosen friends. There were some of her fellow-creatures whom she -loved, without knowing why. Others she disliked no less distinctly, and -contact with them would render her depressed for days. Strangers, in -particular, invariably troubled her mind. - -In course of time, people had come to attribute this discrimination to a -strange instinct that had taken the place of the ordinary human -intelligence she no longer possessed. She was still spoken of as the -Danish Lady at Hof, though for years she had not set her foot outside -the limits of Borg. - -She spoke but little. It seemed as if she had forgotten not only her -native tongue, but also the little Icelandic she had ever learnt. She -picked up odd words and sentences, however, uttering them afterwards -incoherently. And she had a kind of language of her own invention—a -combination of curious expressions and strange gestures, which those -about her learned to understand. Old Kata was an adept in this mode of -intercourse, and pleased her mistress by her quickness of understanding. - -The two women occupied one room, with two windows, in which they had -their favourite seats. They would sit there for hours, old Kata with her -knitting, and Alma gazing at the world outside, and following with -childish interest anything that might be happening within view. For the -most part, they were silent, but now and again passers-by might hear -them exchanging words in their own unintelligible form of speech. - -They had little to do with others, though Alma knew all the servants and -farm hands on the place. All loved her, and towards old Kata, too, the -general feeling was one of kindly regard. - -On Sundays they joined the circle for Bible reading or singing, after -which coffee was handed round, Alma playing the part of hostess. It was -one of the small recurring pleasures in her life, and both she and Kata -found an ever-new delight in the arrangement. - -Sometimes the master, Ormarr Ørlygsson, if so disposed, would bring out -his violin and treat his people to an entertainment. He invariably began -with merry tunes, and finished with strange, heart-stirring themes; the -simple listeners knew nothing of the great composers, but the music had -its own effect on them, and often brought tears to the eyes of the more -impressionable amongst them. - -When he had played thus, Ormarr would leave the room abruptly; the rest, -sitting in silence, would hear him leave the house. And then the party -broke up, each to his work or play. - -But Ormarr went off alone into the hills. At times he might be seen -pacing to and fro; sometimes he would find some spot where he could lie -and rest, but he never returned to the farm until all had retired for -the night. There were always two, however, who waited his return. One -was old Kata, who sat by the window till she saw or heard him back -again—sat weeping, though he never dreamed of any such sympathy on her -part. Not till she knew that he was safely within doors—had fought out -that day’s fight with his God, as she put it to herself—would she go to -rest. - -The other was his wife, lying awake in bed till he came. No words were -spoken when he returned; in silence he lay down at her side, drawing -close to her, with one arm round her neck. Lying thus, rest would come -to him and he could sleep. - -The only other event in the life of Alma and her aged nurse was when -visitors came to the place. All invariably came in to pay their respects -to the Danish Lady however brief their stay or how pressing their errand -might be. Some did so from a natural desire to show their sympathy with -one afflicted by God; others from a secret fear that God would punish -them if they did not. And Alma seemed able to distinguish between those -who came of their own kind will and those who merely obeyed a custom -they feared to break. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -Guest the One-eyed limped wearily along by the side of the stream. - -The path he followed wound with many turns, following the course of the -water, and in places quite near to the edge, the bank sometimes -overhanging the riverbed below. At one spot the river actually tunnelled -its way underground for some few yards, leaving a kind of natural bridge -above. When he reached this spot the wanderer knew that he was not far -from Bolli. - -His thoughts were busy with recollection of the young man he had met up -in the hills. - -“So that was he,” he thought to himself. “A handsome lad, strong and -manly, and of a kindly heart, by his eyes.” He thought of the evident -pleasure with which the boy had given him the shoes and shared his food -with him. Ay, a true son of his race—little fear of _his_ bringing -sorrow upon Borg. - -And the old man’s heart beat faster at the thought that he would soon -see the girl whom Ørlygur had chosen for his bride. His knowledge of men -had enabled him to read clearly enough the signs of Ørlygur’s feeling; -it was evident, also, that the two young people understood each other. - -He forgot his weariness and hurried on. - -Then, rounding a bend of the river, he came suddenly upon the tiny -homestead, a cluster of small buildings on a little piece of rising -ground. A thin smoke rose from a chimney—that must be from the open -hearth in the kitchen. The ground outside was marked by heaps of hay, in -regular rows; a solitary horse was grazing on the hillside, and a few -sheep nosed about among the rocks down by the river. - -For some minutes he stood looking over the place. So this was where the -two women passed their quiet lives. Mother and daughter, living for some -reason apart from their neighbours. The old wanderer knew well enough -that it was often not the worst of human kind that chose to live aloof -from their fellows. - -As he approached the house, a dog ran out barking angrily. Immediately -after, a young woman appeared. At first sight of the strange figure -coming towards her, she turned as if to go indoors again, but changed -her mind and advanced to meet him. - -“Here is one who is tired,” said she. “Can I help you, old man?” - -And she took his arm. - -“Thanks, blessed child,” said the old man, with a smile. - -The girl looked up at his face. - -“Oh—you have only one eye!” she exclaimed. - -“Yes,” answered the stranger, with a chuckle. “Worms couldn’t wait for -it. They’ll have the other one soon, and the rest of me with it.” - -“You should not talk like that,” said the girl, with childish -displeasure. - -Guest the One-eyed changed his tone. “Yes,” he said earnestly. “You are -young and wise, and I am old and foolish. ’Tis not a matter for jesting. -What is your name, child?” - -“Snebiorg is my name. Mother calls me Bagga, but I don’t let other -people call me that—or only one other, perhaps, if he cares to. And you -perhaps, too, because you are not like other folk.” - -“One other—if he cares to? Don’t you know whether he cares to or not?” - -“No—for I have never spoken to him.” - -“But—are you not lovers, then?” - -“Yes.” - -“And you mean to say you have never spoken—only written letters to each -other?” - -“Written? No.” Bagga looked up in surprise. “We have looked at each -other. Isn’t that enough?” - -There was a strange earnestness in the old man’s voice as he answered: - -“Surely it is enough. And are you very fond of him?” - -“I love him.” - -They walked on in silence. Guest the One-eyed wished to have his message -given before going into the house. - -“I have seen him,” he said. “And I was to bring you greeting from him.” - -The girl stopped still and clasped her hand to her breast. The colour -had risen to her cheeks as she spoke of her lover; now she turned pale. -The old man looked at her intently, taking in her fine profile, her -beautiful eyes and lovely hair, the fineness of her figure. He realized -that these two were destined for each other; that they _must_ love each -other at first sight. - -Bagga could hardly speak at first. After a while she said: - -“You have spoken to him? Is it long ago? What did he say? Did he ask you -to bring me greeting?” - -“No.” - -“But you said so just now!” She looked at him with tears in her eyes. - -“I asked if I should bring you greeting, and he said yes. And I read -more in his eyes. Can you guess what?” - -“No.” - -“That he loves you, and is for ever thinking of you. That he will always -be true to you.” - -“That I knew long ago. But how could you know that it was he?” - -“It needs not long to find out that. Shall I tell you his name?” - -“No,” answered the girl, colouring deeply. “Did he say anything else? -Was he looking for a lamb that had strayed?” - -“Yes, a favourite lamb, and he was afraid some fox might have harmed -it.” - -Bagga looked serious. - -“It is here,” she said hesitatingly. “It strayed over here early in the -summer, and I have been keeping it with our sheep. I knew it was his, -and I could not bear to part with it. But tonight, when every one is -asleep, I will take it over to Borg. Then he will find it in the -morning, and be glad.” - -She smiled with pleasure at the thought. - -“Can’t you remember any more he said? Did you have a long talk with -him?” - -“Yes—but I have forgotten. He gave me these shoes I am wearing now.” - -Bagga was immediately keenly interested in the old man’s shoes. - -“I hope you have not worn a hole in them yet. But, if you have, I will -mend them for you.” - -“No,” answered the old man, with a quiet smile. “I am sorry to say there -is nothing to mend.” - -Bagga blushed again, but added quickly, “But you can let me set them in -oil for you tonight, then they will be soft in the morning. You will -stay here tonight, will you not?” - -“Gladly, if you will house me.” - -They had reached the door of the house, and Bagga led him through a dark -passage into the room. Seated on a bed was an elderly woman, busy -mending some clothes. The visitor noticed for the first time that the -girl’s clothing was almost as patched as his own. It was not so -noticeable, however, in a pretty girl. - -The old woman sat up and stared at him. - -“Who is this?” she asked in surprise. - -“A beggar, lady. Peace be with you.” - -The woman’s glance softened. - -“Come in,” she said, “and welcome to what we can give. Sit down. Have -you come far?” - -“From across the Dark Mountains.” - -“So far—and you are lame? Quick, Bagga, make some coffee.” - -Bagga whispered something in her mother’s ear. The latter looked at her -daughter, and then at the stranger. Her glance expressed concern. - -“Is it true? You have lost an eye, and lame as well?” She came towards -him. “Then you must be ... you are Guest the One-eyed?” - -“So I am called,” was the reply. - -She grasped his hand, and her voice trembled. - -“God bless you!” she said earnestly—“God bless you! And blessed be the -hour that brought you here.” - -Bagga had left the room, and the two were alone. - -“Where did you spend the night?” - -“On the hills.” - -“And without shelter? How can you endure such hardships—an old man?...” - -“I am well hardened to it by now. Though, to tell the truth, my shoulder -is somewhat stiff from last night.” - -“I hope it may be no worse. Let me make up a bed for you now, and you -can have a good rest.” - -“I would rather lie in the hayloft. A bed would seem strange to me now.” - -Somewhat unwillingly the widow agreed to let him have his way. - -“So you have come to Hofsfjordur after all, though after many years.” - -“Yes; Fate has brought me here at last, in my old age.” - -“Then Fate is kind to us.” - -“Fate is always kind,” replied the old man earnestly. - -“Even when it brings us trouble and distress?” - -“Then most of all, good soul, if you did but know.” - -“Even when it leads us into temptation—drives us to sin?” The widow -looked up at him quickly as she spoke, and lowered her eyes again. - -“We mortals are poor clay; God has need of strange ways to work us to -His will.” - -“Then you think all that happens is decreed—a part of God’s plan with -us?” - -“In a way, yes. Each man’s actions are determined by the nature of his -soul; that makes his fate. All that men do is a result of their own -character. But the deeds that we do most naturally are good. Therefore, -we should each be master of ourself.” - -“But a sin committed can never be a good action or lead to any good. -Surely it were better that such an act had never been?” - -“A sin committed can bring out the good in one who is so made that the -good in him can be reached by no other way. One can wander through many -lands and yet not escape from one evil deed. The memory of it will stay -fresh in the mind, and in time can soften the hardest heart, or make the -weakest strong; good thoughts and strength of will grow out of it. I -speak as I have found it. But perhaps you have not found it so.” - -The woman bent over her work. - -“Yes,” she said. “You speak the truth. I, too, have sinned, and the -memory of it has made me better than I was, or ever could have been -without it. But I never thought of it so until now.” - -Bagga entered with some food. She wore a bandage over one eye. - -“What is it, child?—have you hurt yourself?” asked the mother anxiously. - -Bagga blushed hotly, set down the plates, and tore away the handkerchief -from her head, laughing nervously. - -The others laughed too—it was easy to see what the girl had been doing. - -“I forgot to take it off,” she explained shyly. “It’s not so very bad, -after all, to have only one eye.” - -“Better to have two,” said Guest the One-eyed. “More especially if they -are as blue and as good as yours.” And he looked at her with a kindly -smile. - -Bagga was still embarrassed; she glanced anxiously at the visitor, and -asked: “You are not angry with me?” - -He patted her arm. “How could I be? After you have given me leave to -call you Bagga?” - -“When you go away from here, I will go with you all the way to the next -place. I am strong, and I can carry your sack for you.” - -“That’s kind of you. And I shall not be angry with you, not even if you -fasten a stick to one leg just to see what it feels like to be lame!” - -Bagga’s checks were burning now; she was nearly crying. - -“I—I did just now,” she confessed. “And it was much worse than—the -other. But I’ll never do it again.” - -Guest the One-eyed burst out laughing. Even the girl’s mother could not -help joining in. And there was not much of anger in the rebuke she gave -her daughter. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -Night spread its broad, dark wings over the land. - -Under the shadow of night the world is changed from what it was while -day still reigned. Fear, that the daylight holds in check, is then -abroad, and the unseen seems nearer than before. All things are changed, -save Love that is unalterable; Love that is constant whether in light or -dark. - -Guest the One-eyed had long since laid his tired limbs to rest in the -hay, the widow’s soul far, far away in the land of dreams, when the -outer door of the house opened slowly; only a crack at first, through -which the dog silently made its way, followed then by the girl, who -stepped with careful, noiseless tread. - -Bagga closed the door behind her without a sound, patted the dog, and -whispered to it to be silent. And the intelligent beast seemed to -understand that this was a business that must be kept secret between it -and its mistress. - -Off went the pair, in the direction of the stream, the dog hard at -Bagga’s heels, and evidently interested in the night’s adventure. - -As they neared the flock of sheep, where they lay huddled together for -the night, she made the dog lie down, while she called softly, as was -her wont, for Ørlygur’s lamb. There was a slight commotion in the flock, -and the black-headed lamb came trotting up. - -Offering some bread she had brought with her, Bagga gradually enticed it -away from the rest. She moved very slowly, to avoid alarming the others, -over towards the natural bridge across the stream. - -The dog trotted along behind, with its tail down. It was jealous of the -lamb, knowing well that, when Bagga had it with her, any other creature -must take second place. To approach her now would mean a scolding, and -the dog had no desire to be sent back home, just when there was every -prospect of something quite unusual happening. - -All went well. The lamb gave no trouble, and the dog followed at a safe -distance. - -But the girl’s heart was sad; it was hard now to have to part with the -lamb she had cherished as a link between her lover and herself—a -tangible memory of the one she loved so deeply, yet with whom she had -never spoken—whom she had only seen now and then at church on Sundays. - -Reaching the bridge, she took off her garter and fastened it round the -lamb’s neck, to have something to hold by in case the animal should take -fright. Then carefully she led it across, the earth underfoot vibrating -all the time with the rush of the water below. - -After a time, the supply of breadcrumbs having ceased, the lamb grew -lazy, and showed signs of becoming rebellious. It seemed to resent -having been thus disturbed in the middle of the night. As long as there -had been compensation in the way of dainty morsels to nibble, it was -perhaps worth it, but now it would prefer to lie down and chew the cud -in peace. - -Bagga, however, persisted, and with coaxing and scolding urged on her -little charge. - -It was a long road, but at last they reached Borg. - -Quietly as possible she opened the gate of the enclosure. It would never -do to rouse the dogs. Then she stroked the lamb sadly in farewell, her -tears falling on its woolly fleece, and thrust it through the gate, -which she closed after it. - -She had forgotten to take her garter from its neck. - -As she turned away from the gate, a feeling of loneliness and misery -overcame her; it was as if she had lost the one treasure of her -life—nothing was left but loneliness and emptiness. Then gradually she -grew more composed. The dog marked her trouble, and fawned on her; she -came to herself, and realized that it was time to return home. - -She stood for a little, gazing with wet eyes at the dark outline of the -homestead; there slept her lover, never dreaming she was near. Surely, -surely in some mysterious way he must feel that she was there, and come -to her? Not to speak to her, no—that he should ever speak seemed to her -like a thing so distant as to be almost unreal—an entering into -paradise. But come he surely must—if only that they might see each -other—that he might realize how she loved him. - -But she must go.... With bowed head she turned in the direction of home. -The long road was covered, she hardly knew how, and, without once waking -to conscious thought of the way, she found herself in the house once -more. - -Silently she undressed; her head was aching, and it was long before she -could sleep. At length she fell into a heavy slumber. - -When she woke next morning it seemed as if the journey of the night had -been a dream; she had to go out and convince herself that the lamb was -really gone. - -Once sure, however, she felt an indescribable joy—so near she had been -to her heart’s desire that night. And none to know of it but God.... She -could not understand now why she had felt sad at parting with the lamb; -the night stood out now like a gleam of brightness in her life. - -One of her garters was missing—she could not remember what she had done -with it. Fallen off somewhere, perhaps, and lying out on the road. It -would be hopeless to try and find it now, though, among all the rocks; -she might as well give it up for lost. - -But it was a pity, for it was a nice one, neatly embroidered, and with -her name worked on so prettily.... - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -While Bagga was thus busy with her daydreams, Guest the One-eyed was -deep in earnest talk with her mother, who confided to him the story of -her life—the story of her heart. - -She was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and had been married -against her will, though with no great resistance on her part, to the -son of a rich landowner. The man she really loved was a young labourer -on her father’s place. No one knew of it, and the man himself had but a -vague idea; she could not say if he returned the feeling or not. After -some six months of married life, Fate—or the well-laid plans of her -lover himself—brought him to work on her husband’s farm. And now began a -time of sore trial for her. The young man had become aware of her -inclination, and made his advances boldly. So successfully did he play -the part of broken-hearted lover that she fell a victim to his -persuasion. So much Guest the One-eyed was able to gather from the -widow’s own confession; she did not spare herself in the recital. - -She had already borne a son—her husband’s child. Immediately after -having given way to her lover, she had endeavoured to persuade him to go -with her, take her away from the place; she could not stay with her -husband as things were. But the lover was quite content to leave all as -it was; indeed, it was evident that he preferred to have her there. Then -she saw through him, realized the true nature of his feelings towards -her, and confessed everything to her husband. The latter had, after a -violent scene, at last agreed to forgive her, and treated her kindly. -But she was determined to leave him, and went off to live alone, making -no claim on him or on her father for her subsistence. - -It was nineteen years ago now. At first, she had earned her living where -and how she could—cleaning fish or washing wool. Then the child came, -and she found it impossible to obtain work anywhere. Finally, she had -settled down at Borg, where she had stayed three years. In spite of the -kindness with which she was treated by Ormarr and Runa, however, she -found herself regarded with suspicion. With her small savings, and some -help from Ormarr, she had just been able to rent and stock her little -holding, and had lived there now with her daughter for nearly fourteen -years. - -Now, life was pleasant enough, she said. And Guest the One-eyed -understood that she had grown so accustomed to hard work and scanty fare -that she would have found it hard now to change to another mode of life. -But she looked to her daughter’s upbringing with motherly care, and her -great anxiety was the girl’s future. How would it be with her when she -went out into the world? Would she be able to live down her mother’s -past? Would God in His mercy spare her the consequences of her mother’s -sin? - -That it was a sin she understood now; now, for the first time, she -realized how unpardonable her act had been. The consequences might yet -be visited upon her child. And her conscience made her suffer; she -feared at times that the agony of her remorse would drive her to -madness. She was on the edge of an abyss; only by the utmost effort -could she preserve her self-control. - -Guest the One-eyed had heard many secrets; listened to the story of many -lives. And in his long years of life he had learned to sift the facts of -a case, to find out truth as much from what was left unspoken as from -what was said. The widow’s life stood out clearly to his mind’s eye in -all its detail. - -They sat in silence for a while. - -“And the girl’s father,” asked Guest at last—“is he still living near?” - -“No,” answered the widow, and her lips tightened. “He went away across -the seas soon after I left the place. Afraid, maybe, that there might be -trouble, and thought it best to be out of the way.” - -Again there was a pause. - -Then said Guest the One-eyed quietly, “You are troubled at heart by the -thought that the sins of the fathers are to be visited upon the -children. Do not let that weigh too heavily upon you now. There are -those who suffer so deeply for their own sins that they atone for them -in life, and more. You are one of these. I am not speaking empty words -to you for comfort’s sake, but the truth. You can trust me. God has -granted me the power to give my fellow-men in need the knowledge of -remission of their sins, as far as may be in knowledge of the truth. I -have sinned, and my debt is not yet paid—but my sin was greater than -yours or that of any other I have met. But the Lord God is merciful, and -I believe that He will grant me peace at last. At last, in death. And -when that comes, I can say with truth that my life, by God’s grace, has -been a happy one.” - -The woman looked at him, with the same dull hopelessness in her eyes. - -“How can you know that I have sufficiently atoned for my sin—you, who -have known me only since yesterday, and heard no more than I have told -you?” - -Guest the One-eyed smiled, and a strange look of far-seeing wisdom lit -up his heavy face. - -“I believe that the Lord has sent me to you for your comfort in -need—that the Lord has given me, and to no other, a sign to make you -sure. I am no prophet, and I do not profess to tell what will or will -not come. But—shall I tell you a secret? Promise me, first, that you -will not act in any way to bring about that which shall come in God’s -good time.” - -The woman grasped his hand and nodded. Her eyes were fixed intently on -his face, as if striving to read his words ere they were spoken. - -“Your daughter will be the happiest woman in this land. She is loved by -the purest soul I have ever looked into through human eyes.” He turned -away for a moment, and murmured, as if to himself: “I thank Thee, Lord, -for Thy great mercy.” Then, addressing the widow again, he went on: “And -she, on her part, returns his love with all her innocent heart.” - -The woman’s face darkened. - -“Impossible,” she said. “There is no young man she knows here at all. I -do not believe she has ever spoken to one.” - -“Remember your promise, and trust me now. The girl is in her heart—and -in the book of Fate—betrothed and wedded to the one I speak of. Give -time, and see.” - -“If I could believe you now....” - -“You can—you must. It is long since these lips framed a lie—never in the -life of Guest the One-eyed have they spoken falsely.” - -The widow looked at him earnestly, doubt and hope struggling in her -mind. Guest the One-eyed leaned towards her, his face deathly pale, and -whispered: - -“He of whom I speak—he, too, was born as the fruit of a sin—but a sin -that is, or will be soon, I trust, atoned for.” - -The woman was weeping now, but they were tears of relief rather than -despair. “I cannot fathom it all,” she murmured. “But I believe you.” - -Guest the One-eyed smiled sadly, and cast a grateful glance to heaven. - - * * * * * - -Later in the day, Guest the One-eyed became feverish, and the pain in -his shoulder became acute. He could not hide the fact that he was -suffering, and the widow wished him to go to bed at once and remain -there for the present. But he obstinately refused even to stay in the -house. - -“I have farther yet to go,” he said, with his sad, kindly smile. - -As he was leaving, he asked suddenly: - -“Was there not once a priest here, Sera Ketill?” - -The widow looked up at him in surprise. Then she cast down her eyes and -frowned. - -“His name is accursed in this house,” she said—“as are all those who -have deceived under the mask of love.” - -The man paled at her words. For a moment he seemed stunned. Then, taking -up his sack and staff, he limped from the room. - -The woman hurried after him. - -“Are you ill?” she asked. - -“No. I am going now.” - -“But—you have not said good-bye!” - -“Forgive me,” said Guest the One-eyed. “But you have said that which -struck me to the heart.” - -The woman looked at him blankly. Then, giving up all attempt at finding -out the mystery, she asked: - -“Will you not leave some good word after you?—some word to help?” - -Guest the One-eyed looked at her. Then he said: - -“Let your heart be open to Love and closed to Hatred; and let your lips -be quick to bless, but slow to curse.” - -“God be with you,” said the woman, her voice quivering on the verge of -tears. “God’s blessing go with you where you may go.” - -And, turning hurriedly to hide her shame and emotion, she re-entered the -house. - -Guest the One-eyed limped painfully along beside the stream. Suddenly he -remembered the girl, whom he had forgotten in the trouble of his soul, -and turned to seek her. But at that moment she came running towards him. - -The girl stopped, breathless, and looked at him reproachfully. “Would -you have gone without a word to me?” she asked. - -“I had just remembered,” he said softly. “But for a moment my soul was -not my own.” - -She took his sack and put her arm in his. - -“I will go with you as far as I may,” she said. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -A calm, sunny day. The old man trudged along the valley, leaning on the -girl’s arm. Her golden hair and his white locks shone like haloes round -their heads. - -Now and again a flock of ptarmigan rose at their feet. Already the birds -had shed their brown plumage and donned their winter coats of white. - -It seemed as if summer were loth to bid farewell. The sea was calm, and -the river flowed smoothly on its way; the lakes lay still as mirrors, -reflecting the hills around and the blue sky above. No sound was heard -from the homesteads but the occasional neigh of a horse or the barking -of a dog. Even the rocks seemed less bleak and bare than usual, lapped -as they were now in the warm rays of the sun. All seemed intent on -looking its best at the last—the last it might be, for another day might -bring cold winds and wintry gales, ushering in snow and ice. - -The old man and the girl had gone some distance on their way when they -came to a grassy slope that seemed inviting them to rest and look out -over the scene. Somewhat shyly, the girl took out a packet of food and -offered him. - -“Now, that is your breakfast you have packed up here,” said the old man -as he opened it. - -“I am not hungry,” said the girl bravely, but the effort was plain to be -seen. - -Guest the One-eyed stroked her head and began to eat; he succeeded, -however, in persuading her to share with him. - -When they had finished, he asked her: - -“Will you not turn back now? It is a long way home already.” - -She looked at him pleadingly. “Oh, I will run all the way home. I am -never tired—and I should like to see you within sight of the next -homestead.” - -“I am glad to have you—but we had better go on. We must not lose more -time sitting here.” - -He made no motion to rise, however, and for a while they sat in silence. -Then he asked: - -“Did you ever hear of one Sera Ketill, once priest of this parish, many -years ago?” - -The girl burst into tears, and sat crying quietly. He put no further -question, but after a little said quietly: - -“Have I hurt you, child? I would not have done that.” - -“That—that was his father,” she answered, sobbing. “Did you not know?” - -“Yes, I knew,” he answered. - -“And they all say unkind things and hate him,” she went on, still -sobbing passionately. “He drowned himself because he had been so wicked -he couldn’t bear it—all the sorrow that came after. Threw himself over -the cliff, they say; he was seen there the night after his father died -in the church. - -“And he left a will giving all he had to the poor, but they say it was -only to make them sorry for the hard things they had said, and pray for -his soul. And they never would forgive him, and they say the Evil One -has taken him, because the body was never found. Isn’t it cruel! And all -that was twenty years ago, and all that time no one has ever thought -kindly of him once—only me, and I couldn’t help it. His father.... I -don’t know if _he_ ever thinks of him. And yet he must, since it was his -father....” - -Gradually the girl became more composed. Her companion sat quietly, with -tears in his eyes. - -Suddenly she raised her tear-stained face towards him and asked: - -“Do you hate him, too?” - -Guest the One-eyed looked her straight in the face as he answered: - -“For twenty years my life has been spent in seeking God’s mercy and -forgiveness towards him.” - -The girl’s eyes lit with pleasure. - -“Then you knew him? And were you fond of him?” - -The man was silent for a moment. Then he said: - -“Sera Ketill is not dead.” - -“Oh, thank God for that! Is it really true?” - -“God bless you, child, that you are glad to hear it. Yes, it is true. He -is yet a wanderer on earth, and penitent.” - -“Is he very far away? Shall I ever see him?” - -“Not very far away. But ask no more just now.” - -They walked on until a fertile valley lay before them. - -Close by was a small farm; other homesteads were scattered about not far -off. - -The old man slung his sack over his shoulder. - -“Shall I never see you again?” asked the girl, her eyes filling with -tears. - -“You like me, then?” - -“I love you. Every one loves and blesses you. If I had a father, I -should wish him to be like you.” - -“But—I am only a beggar.” - -“There is no shame in that,” answered the girl in surprise, “for one -like you.” - -“Shall I bring Sera Ketill your greeting if I see him?” - -“Yes, and tell him that I pray for him always.” - -“Do you think you can get home now before dark?” - -“Yes, indeed; I am not tired at all now. Good-bye.” And she gave him her -hand. - -“Good-bye,” he said, “and God be with you.” - -The girl hurried off in the direction of home, and Guest the One-eyed -turned towards the farm. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -On the morning after Bagga’s expedition with the lamb, Ormarr was up and -about before any of the others at Borg. - -It was his custom to rise early. His nights were often restless, and it -was only after he had been up and out a little that he felt refreshed. -The work drove sad thoughts from his mind. - -He was not happy, though he would have found it hard to say what was -wrong. He could not honestly declare that he regretted having given up -the path of fame that once had stood open to him through his music. - -In the old days, whenever he had touched his violin, the contrast -between the harmony of music and the discord of the world as it was had -wrought on him so strongly that he had been driven to seek solitude. His -sensitive soul craved rest, quivering as it did under the harshness of -reality. It was not the desire for appreciation of his art, but the -longing for harmony in life that he felt most deeply. - -Here, on the farm, existence was rendered tolerable by the fact that he -had to be constantly at work; the management of the estate gave him much -to do, in addition to which the affairs of the parish were almost wholly -entrusted to his care. And the affection and respect of his people, -which he could not but perceive, served largely to aid him in the -constant struggle within. - -The people loved him, not only because he helped them in every possible -way, and never refused his aid and counsel, but also because they felt -that in him they had a true leader. They saw the firmness of character, -the stern will, which he exercised in his own life, and it gave them -courage. - -Ormarr invariably began the day by a visit of inspection round the farm -to see that all was in order. The animals allowed to go loose about the -place were carefully looked to each morning to see that they had come to -no harm during the night. - -One of the first things to catch his eye this morning was Ørlygur’s -lamb. He noticed the black head at once, and as he approached, the -animal rose up, bleating pitifully. Evidently it was in distress about -something. As soon as he had caught it, he noticed the blue ribbon at -its neck, looked at it, and found the name “Snebiorg” woven in red -letters. He was about to take it off, but changed his mind and let the -lamb go. There were not two women of that name in the parish. And the -lamb had got into the enclosure during the night, though the gate was -fastened. Ormarr was not quite clear in his own mind as to what had -happened, but at any rate, if the ribbon were intended for any one, it -was not for him. - -He thought it over for a while, and then went into the house to wake -Ørlygur. - -“Your lamb has come back. You will find it outside.” - -Ørlygur was out of bed in an instant. His father hesitated, as if -deliberating whether to say more, but after a moment’s reflection left -the room. - -Ørlygur threw on his clothes and hurried out—there was the lamb, sure -enough. But—it did not recognize him. Evidently, in the course of the -summer, it had forgotten him. - -The ribbon at its neck caught his eye at once, and he bent down to -examine it. At first sight of the name he started in astonishment, and -let go his hold. Then, catching the animal again, he took the ribbon -from its neck with trembling fingers. - -The lamb was let to run as it pleased; Ørlygur stood with the garter in -his hand, stroking it softly. His heart beat fast, his head was giddy. -Tears came to his eyes, and his thought was all confused, but there was -a great joy at his heart. - -He sat down on the wall of the enclosure; the sun was just rising. Never -before had he seen such a glorious opening to any day. The piece of -ribbon in his hand made this day one beyond all others; it called him -from his sleep to be king in a beautiful world. - -He realized now that, though he had felt sure before, there had -nevertheless been something lacking—and here it was. All was certain -now. And the joyous possibilities of the future seemed unbounded. He sat -there now for hours, deep in his dreams, twining the ribbon round his -fingers, one after another—none must be forgotten—and at last round his -neck. - -Suddenly he started at the sight of his father approaching, and put away -the ribbon hastily. He got up in some embarrassment; it occurred to him -suddenly that Ormarr might perhaps have noticed the ribbon himself at -first. The thought left him utterly at a loss. - -Ormarr came up and sat down quietly, as if unaware of anything typo. - -“A fortunate thing about the lamb,” he said. “Coming back unharmed like -that. All sorts of accidents might have happened to it.” - -“Yes,” said Ørlygur, trying to speak calmly. - -“Have you time to help me today with the mangers in the big stable?—or -were you thinking of going somewhere else?” - -Ørlygur felt suddenly that it was most urgent he should go somewhere -else, though he had no clear idea as to where. There was something in -Ormarr’s voice that seemed to suggest he was not expected to remain at -home. - -He did not answer at once. Ormarr sat waiting for an answer, but without -impatience, as if realizing something of what was passing in the young -man’s mind. - -When Ørlygur spoke, it was with a calmness that surprised himself. - -“Yes—I was going for a walk ... over towards Bolli. I thought of giving -the lamb—to the widow there. She would be glad of it, no doubt; then she -could kill one of her own sheep instead.” - -Ormarr apparently found nothing in this proposal beyond an ordinary act -of charity; he simply said: - -“Yes, give it to her. Or perhaps to her daughter. Then you may be sure -it would be well looked after.” - -“That is true.” - -Ørlygur had now completely regained his composure, but was still -somewhat at a loss to understand his foster-father’s attitude in the -matter. - -“You can bring them greeting from me,” said Ormarr, as he rose and -walked away. - -Ormarr was both glad and sorry. But he knew it was best not to let -Ørlygur’s love affairs become a matter of dissension between them. They -of Borg had need to hold together well; he had made his sacrifice—all -that remained now was to prepare his wife. - - * * * * * - -When Ørlygur arrived at Bolli, with the lamb trotting contentedly behind -him, he found the widow outside the gate. - -She looked at him, and then at the lamb. She had noticed that morning -that it was missing, but had merely thought it had been found and taken -away earlier in the day. - -“Good morning,” she said in answer to his greeting. “Your lamb seems -loth to leave us.” - -Bagga had told her mother before that the lamb always came back every -time she had essayed to drive it off with other stray sheep. - -“It seems so,” Ørlygur agreed. “Can I have a word with Snebiorg?” There -was a lump in his throat; he could hardly speak the name. - -“She is not at home just now. We had a stranger here last night, and she -has gone out to see him a little on his way. How far, I do not know. Can -you guess who the stranger was?” - -“I think so. Guest the One-eyed, was it not?” - -“Oh—then you knew he was here?” - -“Yes. I was the first to meet him. When I left him yesterday he was on -his way to you.” - -“Why did you not come with him, then, and fetch your lamb? When did you -fetch it?” - -“I did not fetch it at all.” - -“But—it was here last night, and this morning it was gone.” - -Suddenly Ørlygur understood what had happened. And he flushed at the -thought. - -“That may be so,” he answered vaguely. He hardly knew what to say. - -The widow looked at him, as if somewhat offended at his tone. - -“Won’t you come in and sit down for a while?” - -“Thanks,” said Ørlygur. And they went indoors. - -He had never been inside the house before. The little room was furnished -with two beds; he looked immediately at the one which was evidently -Bagga’s. Her hat hung on a nail at the head of the bed, her knife and -fork were in a little rack close by. On a shelf lay her Bible and Prayer -Book, with some other volumes. He dared not take them up to see what -they were—they looked like collections of the Sagas. The bed was neatly -made, and a knitted coverlet of many colours spread over. - -He sat down on the other bed with a strange sense of being an intruder -here. His thoughts were vague, but he was dimly conscious that the place -was filled with the spirit and life of the girl herself. Here she lived; -the little trifles in the room were things she daily touched. - -The widow, entering behind him, invited him to sit on the other bed. He -did so, feeling dazed, and seating himself uncomfortably on the very -edge. The widow suggested that he need not be afraid of lying down if he -were tired, but he declined the offer with some abruptness. - -The woman sat knitting, and for a long time neither spoke, only glancing -across at each other from time to time. - -The widow was not altogether pleased with this visit. She was at a loss -to think what Ørlygur à Borg could have to say to her daughter, but as -he did not speak, she was not inclined to ask him. Also, she remembered -her promise to Guest the One-eyed the day before. - -They sat thus all day, exchanging only an occasional word. Once the -widow went out and made some coffee, which they drank in silence. - -At length she remarked: - -“You are very patient to wait so long.” - -“Yes,” he replied. - -A little later she brought him some food and a drink of milk. She -herself had eaten her meal in the larder, as was her wont. While he ate, -she sat with her knitting, glancing at her guest now and again. - -“Bagga must soon be here.” - -Ørlygur nodded. - -The widow pointed to the bookshelf. “You might take a book, if you care -to, and pass the time. You must be tired of waiting.” - -“I am not tired of waiting,” said Ørlygur. - -Dusk was falling when Bagga at last returned. As soon as her mother -heard her footsteps outside, she rose and left the room. Ørlygur -remained seated. Something was about to happen—something wonderful, -incredible, beyond his control. He was to see her—hear her voice, -perhaps—even speak to her himself. He felt unable to move. The thing -must happen. And then—what then? - -The widow exchanged a hasty greeting with her daughter, and told her -that one was waiting to speak with her. - -Bagga was overcome with confusion, a wave of warmth swept through her -body, and her hands grew moist. - -“Me—to speak with me—who is it, then?” - -“Go in and see.” - -The widow disappeared into the kitchen. - -Bagga could hardly find strength to walk the few steps through into the -room. When at length she entered and saw Ørlygur standing there, she -stood and stared at him without a word. Ørlygur, too, was unable to -speak. - -She offered her hand, and he took it, but the greeting was equally -awkward on both sides. At last Ørlygur plucked up courage to speak: - -“Will you have my lamb?” he asked. “I have brought it with me.” - -The girl smiled, but did not look up. “Thank you,” she said simply. - -For a long time they stood facing each other without a word, hardly -daring to breathe. Ørlygur felt he had much to say, but could find no -words. At last he offered his hand again. - -“Good-bye,” he said. - -She took it hesitatingly, but this time their clasp was one of lingering -affection. They stood breathing heavily; then suddenly she leaned -forward with her forehead against his shoulder; her hot cheek touched -his. For a moment he pressed her to him, and passed his hand caressingly -over her hair. - -With a sigh she slipped from his arms, pressed his hand once more, and -turned away. Then quietly Ørlygur left the room. - -He went out of the house without taking leave of the widow. The latter, -returning a little later to the room, asked if he had gone. - -“Yes,” said the girl. - -“What did he come for?” - -“He gave me his lamb.” - -“Nothing more?” - -“Yes.” - -There was a long pause. - -“Does he love you?” - -Bagga turned her face away. “Yes,” she whispered. - -“And you love him too?” - -The girl burst into tears. “Yes, mother.” - -The widow took her daughter in her arms. “God’s blessing, my child. No -need to be sorry for that. By the look of him, he is not one to change.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -Guest the One-eyed felt both ill and tired when, after bidding farewell -to Bagga, he limped up towards the farm. - -An old man, evidently the master of the place, was busy with some men -thatching a hayrick with slabs of turf. The turf lay rolled up and set -in piles about on the ground, a couple of hundred rolls, perhaps, in -all. It had been a laborious task to cut the pieces thin and even at the -edge; the strips were about ten feet long. Two men were busy on the -stack, preparing it for the roof, the highest point carefully set so as -to give an even slope on all sides. Others were lifting the rolls, -taking great care to avoid a break. The farmer himself did but little of -the work, being chiefly occupied with looking on and giving orders. - -The arrival of a stranger caused a momentary pause in the work. Those on -the ground gathered round him, and the two men on the stack leaned over -to see. - -“Who are you?” asked the farmer curtly. - -“A beggar,” answered the newcomer, seating himself on one of the rolls -of turf. - -“I thought as much,” grumbled the man. “Can’t you sit on the ground, -instead of spoiling my turf?” And, turning angrily to the men, he -shouted: - -“Well, what is there to stare at? Get to your work.” - -Guest the One-eyed sat down, and for a while was left to himself. A dog -came trotting up, sniffed at him, and curled up dog-fashion at his feet, -apparently satisfied of being in decent company. - -At length the farmer turned to him again. - -“Well, old Greybeard, what news from anywhere?” - -“There’s little news I can tell.” - -“I daresay. All you think of is the meals you get—in other folks’ -kitchens.” - -“There’s many things a man can think of. Will you give me shelter for -the night?” - -“I’ve no beds for lazy vagabonds. But you can sleep in the barn if you -like, though I warn you it’s draughty. I take it you can do some tricks -or tell a story or something in return?” - -Guest the One-eyed smiled and, looking up at him, said: - -“Have you ever heard the story of the rich man and Lazarus?” - -The farmer turned pale with rage. “You cursed bundle of rags!” he -shouted. “You dare ... I’ll have you taken up before the sheriff for -begging if you don’t mind your words!” - -The men looking on smiled. The local authority was Ormarr à Borg, and -all knew there would be little gained by an angry man who came to him -demanding the punishment of some poor wanderer for begging. It would, -indeed, be about the best thing that could happen to the culprit -himself. - -“What is your name?” demanded the farmer, striding towards him with a -threatening mien. - -“I am called Guest the One-eyed,” answered the old man, with his quiet -smile. - -The farmer was taken aback. “Guest the One-eyed! Impossible. He never -comes this way. Guest the One-eyed....” - -He looked at the beggar again, shifted his feet, and stood in some -confusion. “God’s blessing,” he stammered out at last. “Forgive me—I did -not know. Come—come up to the house with me.” - -And clumsily he helped the wanderer to rise; his hands were little used -to helping others. - -“Let me take your sack,” he said. - -“Nay—a beggar carries his own,” answered Guest the One-eyed, and hoisted -it on his back. Then suddenly he smiled and, swinging down the sack once -more, handed it to the farmer, who took it as if it were a favour -granted him. - -Guest the One-eyed glanced at him mischievously. - -“’Tis strange to see you with a beggar’s pouch. None would have thought -you could ever come to that.” - -The farmer cast a sidelong glance at his men, and was about to make an -angry retort, but restrained himself and gave a forced laugh. Then he -said: - -“If I were to fill the sack with more than you could carry—what then?” - -“Then I should let it lie.” - -The farmer was evidently anxious to make much of his visitor; the -latter, however, seemed to care little for his hospitality, and would -not even accept the bed that was offered him. The farmer assured him -that it was a bed reserved for personages of distinction; bishops and -high officials had lain in it. But Guest the One-eyed preferred to sleep -in the barn, and all that the farmer could do was to have the cracks in -the walls stopped as far as possible, and a fresh layer of hay laid over -the rotting stuff that strewed the floor. - -Before retiring, the beggar brought up the subject of Sera Ketill. - -“That scoundrel!” cried the farmer angrily. “Ay, a scoundrel he was.” -And a murmur from those around showed that he had voiced the general -feeling. “He duped them all. Not a man but was on his side. I remember -him, and his lying sermons and his talk—and I was no wiser than the -rest, to doubt my old friend. Ørlygur à Borg, he was a true man, and -Sera Ketill that killed him—his own father.... I shan’t forget! And his -poor wife, the Danish Lady at Hof—ruined for life. Twenty years now -she’s lived at Borg, and never got back to sense nor wit. ’Tis a comfort -to think he’ll suffer for it all, or there’s no justice in heaven. The -Devil must have marked him from the first—and took and kept him, and -best he should. If I met Sera Ketill at the gates of Paradise, I’d turn -and go another way.” - -And the farmer laughed, pleased with his own wit and confident of his -own salvation. - -Guest the One-eyed had listened with pale face to the outburst of hatred -and scorn. At last he rose heavily to his feet and said: - -“It is time a weary man went to his rest.” - -The farmer went with him to the barn. - -“If you will sleep here,” he said. “Though why you should, with a fine -bed waiting, I can’t see.” - -“’Tis best to seek a place that’s not above one’s deserts,” said the -other mildly. And he added, “Though, for some, it may be hard to find.” - - * * * * * - -Left to himself, the wanderer lay staring into the darkness. And his -lips moved in an inaudible prayer. - -“My God, my God—if only I might dare to hope for forgiveness at the -last; only one gleam of Thy mercy to lighten my heart. I am weighed down -with the burden of my sin, and long has been my penance, but what is all -against the evil I have done? Yet I thank Thee, Lord, that I alone am -let to suffer; that Thy wrath has not been visited on that innocent -child.” - -During the night his fever increased. He could not sleep, and lay -tossing uneasily from side to side, murmuring often to himself: - -“Lord, I feel now that Death is near. Good that it comes at last, and -yet I fear it. What will Death mean for me? Some hell more terrible than -I have lived through all these years? Thy will be done! It will not be -tonight, I think. Another day, and then ... Death.... Lord, Thy will be -done!” - -He lapsed into a state of drowsy helplessness, murmuring still to -himself: - -“Lord, Lord ... two children were granted me of Thy grace. And to the -one was given Thy peace in death; the other has found happiness in -life.... I thank Thee, Lord....” - -He lay bathed in perspiration; dust and fragments of hay clung to his -face and hands. - -“Two Women ... Lord, forgive me.... Mercy, Lord....” - -He flung himself over on his side and hid his face. - -“Father, how often have I sinned against Thee! And knowing my sin, yet -hardening my heart. Even then I suffered, but I would not heed, and -persevered in sin. Forgive me, Lord.” - -For a while he lay still, then turned again. He strove to raise himself, -but his strength failed him, and, sinking back, he cried aloud: - -“Forgive me, Lord—forgive me, Lord....” - -His words were lost in the darkness, and he lapsed into unconsciousness. - -He woke some hours later, exhausted and parched with thirst. But he -could not rise to seek for water, and at length he sank into a restless, -feverish sleep. - - * * * * * - -Early next morning he was awakened by the entry of the farmer. At first -he hardly realized where he was. He was ill, with a racking pain in his -head. But he strove to appear as if nothing were amiss. - -“Good morning,” said the farmer. “And how do you feel today? Was it very -draughty up here?” - -“Good morning. I have slept well, and I thank you.” - -The farmer laughed at sight of his visitor’s face, which was plastered -with scraps of hay. “You’ve enough hay about you to feed a sheep through -the winter,” he said with a laugh. - -Guest the One-eyed had risen. As he stepped out into the cold morning -air, his teeth chattered audibly. “The sun is not up yet, it seems,” he -murmured. - -Never before had he so longed for the rising of the sun. He stood now -staring towards the east; it seemed to him a miracle that he should be -suffered to see the sun rise once more. - -“The blessed sun,” he murmured to himself. - -The sky showed a dull blue between hurrying banks of cloud. The farmer -yawned, and observed carelessly, “It’s cold in the mornings now. Come -in; there will be coffee ready soon.” - -Guest the One-eyed went into the cowshed, washed himself at the -drinking-trough, and dried his face and hands on his coat, the farmer -watching him the while. - -“You’re one for cleanliness, I see,” he said. “I never trouble to wash -myself, these cold mornings.” - -The wanderer produced a piece of comb, and tidied his hair and beard; it -was a matter of some difficulty to get rid of the scraps of hay. - -“Why not stay here for the day and have a good rest?” suggested the -farmer. And with a sly glance he added: “I daresay we can afford to give -you a bite of food.” - -“I thank you. But I must go on.” - -“Ay, there’s always haste with those that have nothing to do,” said the -farmer, with a touch of malice. - -He walked down a little way with his guest, some of the farm hands -accompanying them. The wanderer bade farewell to each in turn, and all -answered with a blessing. Then they turned back, the farmer alone going -on a few steps more. - -“Have you not some good word to leave with me?” he asked a little -awkwardly. - -Guest the One-eyed looked at the man from head to foot; the burly fellow -stood as timidly before him as a child that had done wrong. - -“It would be well if you were oftener to take the beggar’s bag upon your -shoulders,” he said. And, having shaken hands in parting, he walked -away. - -“God be with you,” said the farmer, and stood for some moments watching -the beggar as he limped along. For the first time in his life he began -to feel that perhaps after all wealth and security were not the only -things worth coveting. There were other things—other feelings than the -sense of material gain or loss. - -He walked back to the house somewhat humbled in mind, and, going into -his room, sat down on the bed with his head bowed in his hands. For long -hours he sat there, seemingly in thought. In the evening, he roused -himself with a sigh, and went out to where the men were working. His -tone seemed harsher than his wont as he ordered them about. - -But Guest the One-eyed went on his way, shivering and muttering to -himself: - -“Haste—yes, for today. But tomorrow? Who knows? Who asks? What do we -know of it all? Life ... and mortals playing at joy and sorrow; a little -life ... a long life ... playing at life ... playing with others’ hearts -and with our own. And thinking it all in earnest. And the end? The -grave, the grave. Cold earth, dark earth, where the sun cannot reach, -though its grace be spread all above. My God, my God, what are my -thoughts? Not earnest? Is it not earnest, all our life? Lord, forgive -me. Thoughts, thoughts that come and go—but not for long. Thoughts -fearing to end, to die under the earth, and never reach to heaven. My -soul—Lord God, where is my soul? Is there a soul that is mine? Lord, -Lord, forgive me! This is the last day Thy grace allows me; the last day -of life on earth, of life and the blessing of the sun for me; the last -day granted me to feel joy in the light. Joy? But my days have been -pain, pain. And yet there is joy.... The last day ... Lord, here am I, -Thy servant. Let Thy wrath be turned away from me, O Lord, and see my -heart that repents, repents. Forgive me, Lord....” - -He crouched down beside a rock, and laid his head upon the stone. - -“God in heaven, I can feel Thy presence. Or is it that God is far away? -Is it mercy or God’s judgment that comes? Forgive me, Lord, if there can -be forgiveness.... Thy will be done!” - -He rose, and limped along his painful way. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -Guest the One-eyed wandered far that day. He felt that it was fated to -be his last. - -Fever burned in his veins; fever in his soul. It seemed a painful task -to end this life. And he was tormented by dread lest his sufferings -should after all not suffice to atone for his sin. - -Sun and rain and hail took turns to follow him on this the hardest of -all his wandering days. Clouds and sheets of hail passed before the face -of the sun, making strange shadows on the hillsides, the contrast being -more pronounced where dark stretches of lava and the lighter hue of -cornfields alternated. One moment the sun’s rays warmed him, the next he -was stung by the sudden lash of hailstones in his face. It was a day of -contest between the powers of sun and shadow—a giant’s battle where -summer and life were pitted against autumn and death. And the earth over -which it raged was marked by each in turn. - -His beggar’s staff changed constantly from a dry, gleaming white to a -dripping grey. He swung it at each step, as it were a distorted extra -limb. And the figure of the man standing against the changing background -of the sky seemed hardly human; more like some fantastic creation of -Nature herself. - -And this man’s soul, maybe, was rugged and misshapen as his body. But -the soul of a man is not so easy to see.... - -The first homestead he came to on this day’s march was a little place. A -peasant and his wife came out to meet the stranger, the rest of their -people following. They were at home today, by reason of the weather, and -had, moreover, expected his arrival. All the district knew by now that -Guest the One-eyed had come amongst them. The peasant and his household -received him kindly, with many blessings. He felt their kindness without -any need of words, and marked how they were glad to have him with them. - -And talking with them, he spoke the name of Sera Ketill, once their -priest, whom all remembered now with execration. Here, too, the tongues -that had been ready with blessing for himself were quick to curse at the -mention of that name; to their minds, Sera Ketill was a monster, a thing -of dread. His very name made them shudder as if at the touch of some -loathsome thing. He was a murderer, a hypocrite, and a cheat; they could -not find in him the slightest link of charity and affection with his -fellow-men. Even his death had been the act of a despicable creature, in -that he had endeavoured to secure their regard by leaving all he had to -the poor, and then flinging himself over the cliffs into the sea. This -last was not even a fine thought of his own—a young poet had been the -first to go that way, and by that very spot. - -But the Devil had taken his body, and his soul, if any shred of soul he -had, had doubtless gone with it. A thing of no use upon earth! He had -not even had the courage to face the consequences of his acts. He was a -stain upon mankind; in justice, he should have been burned at the stake -before his soul went on its way to hell. - -Guest the One-eyed listened pale as death to the bitter words. Strange, -how a man’s character could thus outlive him in the memory of his -fellows. Twenty years had not sufficed to bring oblivion for the wrongs -this man had done. His body might have been reduced to ashes in a -moment, but the fire of hate burned still about his memory. - -The wanderer looked at the faces of those about him—faces that one -moment shone with kindly pleasure and the next glowed fiercely with -hate. He could not but smile, though his heart was heavy. Poor mortals, -poor unseeing men, seeing good and evil as things absolute, unalterable. - -But while his thoughts were busy, his soul cried all the time to God, -praying forgiveness.... - -Thoughts within thoughts, and thoughts again. - -For they were right, after all, these men. They themselves had the power -of being good or evil, of loving or hating without reserve. - -It was their hatred he was feeling now, fuel added to the furnace of his -own remorse; he was passing through a purgatory of maledictions. - -One moment he saw himself as Guest the One-eyed, beggar and wanderer—a -figure clear enough. Then he was the doomed soul on the verge of death, -doubting everything, doubting even his own doubt, torn asunder to his -innermost being, a living cry of anguish seeking Heaven. And then, too, -he was the penitent, believing and trusting in God—yet even so unable to -wrench himself free from the spectres of doubt and mockery and scorn -that clung to him. - -Something prompted him to rise and speak to these his fellows gathered -round him. There were many now; for folk had come from places near to -see the man of whom they had heard so much. Yes, let them see him and -judge him by what he had been and what he was now, and act as they were -prompted to do. It was not enough that they received Guest the One-eyed -with blessings, and cursed the name of Sera Ketill; he longed to bring -both before them as one. - -But the impulse reached no further than his thought. - -As they cursed the man that he had been, he sat silent, with eyes cast -down. He made no movement, only sighed. Then at last he rose, and stood -a moment trying to collect his thoughts. - -“I must go,” he said. “I have a long way before me today.” - -And he bade farewell to each in turn, confused thoughts passing through -his mind the while. - -“They give me their hands—but I am stealing what they give. If they knew -me, they would spit on me. Stone me, perhaps. Would they, I wonder—would -they do so now? But I steal what they give because I need it; it is -because I must. Soon my hand will be cold, and then my soul will have no -link with any other soul—no way to feel their love and innocent -kindness. Yes, I must let them give me their hands—as many as I can. And -after that, the grave. Lord, remember that this is my last day ... the -very last. But I will be patient ... Lord, Thy will be done!” - -And he went on his way, with blessings from all. The people stood -silently watching him as he went; their hearts had been moved beyond -their daily wont by the sight of this unhappy wanderer, and their -thoughts followed him now in sympathy along his sorrowful way. - -The wanderer’s heart was suffering more than all. His soul ached with -loneliness—he felt as if already he were confined within the cold walls -of the grave. It seemed a marvel to him that he could endure this and -live. - -On and on he went, thinking—thinking.... - -“If no man can forgive me, if no human heart can realize my atonement, -can then God ever forgive? The blessings they have given me—can they -ever outweigh the curses that were meant for me as well? Lord, if only -one might cross my path to know me, and forgive. One who could take my -hand and know and pardon all.... Lord, Thy will be done....” - -He was taking the road towards the trading station. On the way he -entered a house here and there, and was greeted kindly as ever. But at -the mention of Sera Ketill’s name, all who heard it had but curses; eyes -that had looked on him in kindliness lit now with hatred of the man he -named. - -“I have done more evil even than I thought,” he muttered to himself as -he went on his way, refusing those who would have shared the road. “To -have planted so much hatred in all their hearts; to be the cause of all -those evil thoughts beyond my own; things grown in the dark from evil -seed of my sowing. Lord, who shall ever tear them up and destroy them -that they may not rise again? Lord, can it be that the fruits of sin -never cease, when good comes to an end at last? Lord, Lord, now I see -the greatness of my sin—more than I had dreamed. And now I am come to -the verge of death and have no strength even to suffer more. Only Thy -mercy, Lord—grant me Thy mercy, that hast denied me the forgiveness of -men.” - - * * * * * - -The trading station had grown considerably in the twenty years that had -passed. There were many new houses in the place. And the wanderer looked -in vain for the turf huts that had formed the outskirts of the -settlement when he knew it. They were gone, and modern buildings stood -where they had been. - -He limped from door to door, bearing with him each time blessings for -Guest the One-eyed and curses for the name of Sera Ketill. At the last -house, he asked: - -“Where do the poor live now?” - -There was still a glimmer of hope in his heart that there, among the -poorest, he might find one single heart to bless Ketill the priest for -what he had given. - -“There are no poor here now,” was the reply. - -“Are all in Hofsfjordur grown rich?” - -“There is a poor widow living out at Bolli, a lonely place at the foot -of the hills. But ’tis her own fault that she lives as poorly as she -does. She might have taken the help that was offered her. But it was the -Devil Priest’s money, and she would not take it.” - -“The Devil Priest?” - -“Sera Ketill was his name. But we call him the Devil Priest.” - -“Good-bye,” said Guest the One-eyed. - -“Peace go with you.” - -On his way out from the trading station, he passed by a shed from which -came the sound of voices within. The door stood half-open, and, looking -in, he saw in the half-dark four strange figures—three men and a woman, -ragged and wild-looking; evidently these were vagabonds like himself. - -The woman was shouting a ribald song; one of the men sat crouched on the -floor rocking with laughter. The other two men were fighting, the -stronger chuckling at each successful blow, while the other fought in -silence, waiting his chance. - -The man on the floor called out to the others with an oath to come and -listen. “Give over, you fools, and come and hear. ’Tis a new song—one of -Gudda’s best. Ay, Gudda, she can make a song, if she’s not as young as -she used to be....” And he came shambling over towards them. - -He was a tall fellow, bigger than either of his two companions, still -young, with reddish-yellow hair and a pasty face. The two sprang away as -he came up. - -“Mind your own business, Luse-Grimur!” cried the one nearest. This was a -dark man of slender build, known as the Bishop, from a way he had of -mimicking the tones of a priest, and repeating fragments of an indecent -parody of the marriage service whenever a couple came together. “Keep -away, and don’t bring your lice near me.” - -“You’ll have my hands nearer than you care for in a minute,” answered -Grimur, with a leer. “Go on, Gudda.” - -Gudda was known for her talent in making songs. She was a powerfully -built woman getting on in years, with a coarse voice in keeping with her -coarse face and heavy build. Her skirt reached hardly below her knees, -showing a pair of muscular legs; her stockings were of rough material, -and clumsily darned. One redeeming feature she had—her large blue eyes. -Children feared her until she looked them full in the face, when the -glance of her eyes seemed to draw them to her. - -She was one of the few women vagabonds in the country, and was known far -and wide for her vulgar songs. - -Looking towards the door, she caught sight of the stranger, and called -to him to come in. Guest the One-eyed limped over to the group. - -“God’s peace,” he said as he entered. - -“God’s peace with you,” returned the others, somewhat abashed. - -Suddenly the youngest of the party stepped forward. This was Jon -Gislason, a short, thick-set fellow who had some claim to good repute, -being known to work at times, and trusted to carry letters and parcels -from place to place. He strode up to the newcomer, and looked him in the -face. - -“He’s one of our sort,” he said. “It is Guest the One-eyed.” - -There was a shout of welcome at this, and Grimur took out a flask from -his pocket. - -“Best corn brandy,” he declared, handing the bottle to Guest. “Good -stuff, you can take my word for it.” Then, in a slightly altered tone, -he went on: “I daresay, now, you think us rather a rough lot, you being -more gentle like. But it’s just our way. Rap out an oath without -thinking like.” - -“’Tis not such words that do the worst of harm,” said Guest the -One-eyed. And he took a sip from the flask. - -Then with a grimace he spat it out. “I thought it might do me good,” he -said. “But I can’t swallow it, all the same.” - -“Oh, you swine!” shouted Grimur as he saw the precious liquid wasted. -“There, I’m sorry,” he went on. “That’s no way to speak to a godly man. -But the stuff’s too good to waste. Leastways, to my thinking.” - -Guest the One-eyed offered his hand. - -“No harm, brother,” he said. “Each to his own ways.” - -“‘Brother,’” repeated Grimur thickly. “Calls me brother—shakes hands. -Nobody ever called me brother before. My own folk won’t touch me, call -me Luse-Grimur, and keep far out of reach of vermin. Ay, it’s true -enough what they say of you, Guest One-eyed. God’s blessing, man.” - -“We’ll have Grimur drowning his lice in floods of tears,” grumbled the -Bishop. “See them swimming around and saying their prayers, Amen!” - -“You, Bishop,” said Grimur warningly—“well for you this good man’s here. -If it weren’t for him, I’d send you swimming and saying your prayers in -earnest for less than you’ve said.” - -“Filthy beast,” said Gudda scornfully, and spat at the Bishop, who only -laughed. - -Guest the One-eyed turned to him with a keen glance. - -“Have you ever thought,” he said quietly, “that one day must be your -last—that your tongue may be silent for ever after any word you have -spoken?” - -“Ho, yes. And I’ve got it all ready what I’m going to say. When I get to -the Gates of Heaven—if the Devil hasn’t pinched my soul all hot on the -way—I’ll say to the Lord: ‘Here you are; Behold the Son of Man!’ That’s -my words.” - -“You also are my brother,” said Guest the One-eyed. And he held out his -hand. - -The Bishop spat in it. - -Guest the One-eyed stood silent gazing at his extended hand. Then he sat -down and sobbed. - -The Bishop’s laugh of derision died away. He stood for a moment -breathing heavily, then slunk out of the shed and went away. - -The other three stood silently watching, afraid to look at each other, -uncertain what to do. - -After a little Guest the One-eyed regained his self-control, and, -looking up at them, he said quietly: - -“Friends, do not hate him; believe that he is not worse than others. -Only, the way to his heart is longer and harder to find.” - -“I have far to go,” he said, after a pause. “Good-bye.” - -“God’s blessing,” murmured the others as he left. - -He stood for a moment outside the shed, uncertain which way to turn. He -would have liked to go to Hof, to the vicarage on the other side of the -fjord, but it was too far to walk. This was his last day, and already a -good part of it was gone, though he had lost no time. - -He hobbled down to the beach to see if there might chance to be a boat -going across. Just as he neared the slope, he perceived a little group -of people gathered round something he could not see. Close by, a small -rowing-boat was drawn up on the sand. Going closer, he saw a man bending -over a heap of clothes. Presently the man rose up, and said: - -“He is dead.” - -Those near bared their heads and made the sign of the cross. - -Guest the One-eyed needed but a glance at the ragged heap to recognize -it—it was the body of the Bishop. - -“And only a moment since I was with him,” he said. - -“We were too late,” said a fisherman. “Saw him throw himself into the -sea, and hurried after. But he held on to some weed down below—look, -there’s some of it in his hand still.” - -And, true enough, the dead hand clutched a tangle of weed. - -“So he is gone already to stand before the Lord,” he murmured. “Poor -soul—God grant him peace.” And he made the sign of the cross above the -body. - -The men were running the boat out. He went up to them and asked: - -“Are there many going across?” - -“Only myself,” answered a young man. “I am working at the vicarage, and -going back there now.” - -“Will you take me with you to the other side of the fjord?” - -“Gladly,” answered the young man, and flushed with pleasure. - -The day was fine now, but clouds were racing across the sky. Rain and -hail had ceased, only the shadows of the clouds darkened the water as -they passed. - -Guest the One-eyed sat still, gazing around him as the boat shot out -into the fjord. His eyes took in the landscape; there, nestling in the -valley, lay the homestead of Borg. - -The sight of it moved him; this was the place that had been his home. -Strange to think of it now. There his infant limbs had learned to walk, -and thither he turned now, for the last steps on his road of life. - -He was roused from his meditations by the youth, who nodded over towards -a steep cliff rising from the water. - -“That was where Sera Ketill killed himself,” he said. “You’ve heard of -Sera Ketill?” - -“Yes. I knew him. Better, perhaps, than many did.” - -“A monster of wickedness he must have been,” said the young man, as if -inviting the other to tell what he knew. - -For the moment, Guest the One-eyed was dull to the pain which -condemnation of Sera Ketill usually caused him. He was about to answer -absently, “Judge not ...” but checked himself and sat gazing vacantly -across the water. - -“I never thought to sail on the sea again,” he said, as if to himself. - -“Again?” - -“Yes. I have sailed far in my time, and seen many lands.” - -The young man seemed to take this as a jest. - -“You mean in thought, I take it?” he suggested. - -Guest the One-eyed looked at him. “You are not without sense,” he -remarked. “Do you travel in thought yourself?” - -The young man laughed, and shook his head. “Not much. But I am going to -America this winter.” - -“Do not do that,” said the other quietly. - -“Why not? There is good money to be made there.” - -“True. But it is easiest to die in the place where one was born.” - -“I have not thought of dying just yet.” - -“Maybe not. But life leads only to death. Death is the only thing we can -be certain of gaining; perhaps the only gain.” - -“I had heard that Guest the One-eyed preached the Gospel of Life,” said -the young man seriously. - -“And you are disappointed to find that Guest the One-eyed is only human -after all?” - -The young man did not reply, and they went on in silence. They were more -than half-way across the fjord by now. Guest the One-eyed sat thinking -of the strange currents beneath the smooth surface, and the marvels of -life in the hidden depths. All seemed incomprehensible; the sea, the -life of man—they were much alike. Human existence was merciless, -restless, as the restless tossing of the waves. - -It was a relief to step out of the boat and tread good earth again; for -a moment his mission was forgotten. - -But the sight of the churchyard brought it once more to his mind. He -passed through the gateway. The church was new—a more imposing edifice -than the old one. Bright in colour, and clean and pleasant in -appearance—as he looked, memories of the old, dark, forbidding little -place rose to his mind. - -At the entrance door the old stone steps remained. He knelt down upon -them, and pressed his forehead against the stone. Then he rose, and went -to the burial-place of Borg. He found the stone he was seeking, and laid -himself down beside it in silent prayer. - -When at last he rose, he was so weak that he could hardly drag himself -along. He would not enter the vicarage, however, though he needed rest -and food. Passing on, he took a narrow, unfrequented path down towards -the valley. - -The man who had rowed him over had at once told the household that Guest -the One-eyed was come, and had gone into the churchyard. Soon, as he did -not appear, they went out to look for him, searching in every corner -where a man might be. But Guest the One-eyed was nowhere to be seen. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - -Keeping to the side track for some time, Guest the One-eyed made his way -down from the vicarage lands unobserved, but soon turned off across the -hills towards the main road. Step by step he dragged himself towards his -home, shivering in fever, weary and exhausted, leaving the rest to God. - -The journey must be made; this road he must travel to the end, no matter -what greeting he might find. Curses only, it might be; a death without a -single kindly word. But his way to death lay through Borg—and he was -nearing the end of it now. - -Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! The words beat in his blood -like a promise of release, his heart sobbed with joy, and a new hope -filled him, driving all doubt away. Peace and forgiveness were near. - -Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! All was brighter now; a -childlike happiness came over him. He had sinned and fled, fearing his -punishment; now he was returning home to be forgiven. - -He made such speed as he could, despite his waning strength. Homeward! -homeward! - -Rain and hail began to fall once more, but he did not heed. His mind was -full of the thought that he was nearing a kindly end, a peaceful passing -into eternal rest. - -Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! - -His feet stepped in time to the ring of the words, that sounded like -sweetest music in the ears of the wearied pilgrim. Never before had -there been such a welcome message for any on earth. Only a bruised and -tortured soul could feel the joy of it: home to Borg! home to Borg! - -Great is the glory of the sun that brings delight, of the spring that -fills the world with sweetness, but nothing to the wonder of returning -home after years of struggle, years of suffering in body and soul, to -die among those one loves, those who will forgive. - -Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! - -... Only the stream to cross now ... only the little slope to climb ... -only a few steps more.... - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - -The household at Borg were all within doors. There was no working -outside on such a day. The sheep had to be looked to now and again. -During the storms they took shelter where they could, but these once -past, they scattered about to graze once more. - -Ormarr had set his men to work repairing stables and cowsheds, taking a -part himself in what had to be done. But there was no such pressing -haste; the hands went to their work with gossiping and laughter, telling -stories of all sorts, from gruesome ghost-tales to amusing anecdotes -from near and far. There was hardly work enough for all. And the wild -weather out of doors made it more cheerful to be within. - -Ormarr and Ørlygur took no part in the general gaiety. It was not their -way to be gloomy, but no one seemed to notice that today they kept, as -it were, somewhat aloof. The masters might well have something that -occupied their minds, for the moment, as might any one else. And no one -thought anything of their silence, least of all attempting to intrude on -their reserve. - -As a matter of fact, neither Ormarr nor Ørlygur was in the slightest -degree depressed, but each had that in his mind which claimed his -attention beyond all else. - -Ørlygur could not forget his visit to Bolli the day before. Time and -again the various impressions of what had passed recurred to his -mind—how he had sat waiting, how clean and tidy everything had been in -the place. And the girl—every single movement of hers was fixed in his -memory, even to the ever-restless little finger of her left hand. He -repeated over and over again the words he had heard her speak; even the -intonation was still fresh in his mind. - -So deeply was he occupied with these recollections that he found little -thought for Guest the One-eyed, and yet he longed to see the old man -again. He felt an ever-increasing desire to talk with him, and, in -particular, to learn from a reliable source whether his father had -really been so evil a man as was generally declared to be the case. -Possibly Guest the One-eyed might be able to recount something at least -to the credit of the former priest. Had there been anything good in him, -Guest the One-eyed would surely have found it. And Ørlygur earnestly -hoped that his father might prove to have been not altogether bad. - -Ormarr was thinking of a dream he had had the night before. It was -hardly any connected dream, only a sudden vision that had come while he -slept. He had seen his father and Sera Ketill standing hand in hand at -the foot of his bed. That was all. But Ormarr could not get the vision -out of his mind, and was superstitious enough to attach some importance -to it. The more he thought of it, the more he felt sure it must mean -something—what, he could not say. - -Was it that his father had wished to declare to him that he had forgiven -Ketill, and no longer desired any feeling of enmity to exist between the -brothers? It seemed the most reasonable explanation. - -But how could his father ever expect him to forgive Ketill, after he had -witnessed the terrible scene in the church, and all it had cost? Not -only the life it had taken; there was also the tragedy of the poor woman -who had dragged through twenty years of life a mental wreck. Ormarr had -seen his brother denounce their father from the pulpit for the sin he, -Ketill, had committed; the consequences of that sin had been left to -Ormarr to mitigate as far as he could. - -Ormarr himself had only known his brother as a boy. All the time he had -been abroad they had never met, until the time when Ketill appeared in -Copenhagen about to enter on his priesthood. And on that occasion, -despite the claims of relationship, Ormarr had found it impossible to -feel any real liking for him. Now, knowing as he did that even at that -time the avowed servant of God had a sin upon his conscience of which he -showed no sign, it was impossible to feel any regard for him. Since then -they had had no intercourse with each other, and it had never occurred -to Ormarr that Ketill could ever feel himself unfairly treated in the -apportionment either of material inheritance or of affection. Ormarr had -never sought to probe the workings of his brother’s mind, and had no -idea of the way he schemed and wrought in secret. He had seen only the -outward effect of action, knowing nothing of the inner cause, and all -that he had seen had been evil. So evil, indeed, had Sera Ketill’s -actions been that they seemed to justify the name that had been given -him—the Devil’s Priest. - -No. He searched his mind and heart, but could not find a single spark of -kindly feeling towards his brother, much less affection. No matter how -hard he tried to be impartial, he was forced to admit that the -expression even of any other feeling than that of hatred would be -falsehood. It was easy to say, “Forgive the dead,” but—he still hated -his brother and loathed his memory. The man was dead, and had already -heard his judgment pronounced. Ormarr himself might die, but he felt -that even on the point of death he could not feel otherwise than he did -now. - -Ketill had been evil all through; no act had been so mean but he could -stoop to it, no redeeming feature could be found in all his doings. He -had violated all the laws of love and kinship, and trampled all that was -sacred underfoot. Lying and fraud had been his chosen weapons, and his -methods were as foul as his soul. Forgive him? No—it was all beyond -forgiveness. - -To forgive him would be almost like becoming himself an accomplice in -his brother’s evil deeds; his soul would be tarnished by the mere -toleration of such a memory. - -The Devil’s Priest had been his brother, blood of his parents’ blood; it -did not help him. It was impossible to forgive. It seemed natural and -inevitable as the breath of life to curse him, hate him, and condemn -him. - -Even his death had been that of a coward—a fitting end. And the last -attempt to win the hearts of the people after death by leaving his -fortune to the poor—that, too, was a meanness entirely in keeping with -the rest. It had gained him nothing, after all, for the poor accepted -his gifts, but reserved the right to curse him, all the same. - -No—even though his father took Ketill by the hand, and led him forward -to ask his brother’s pardon, though the vision were to come a hundred -times, night after night for the rest of his life—he could not forgive -him. - -Thus Ormarr thought, and his heart grew ever harder towards his brother. -Later in the day, passing by Alma’s window, he saw her sitting there, -with eyes staring emptily out into space. And his indignation rose anew; -he muttered between his teeth a curse on the name of the Devil’s Priest. - -The household were sitting down to the evening meal when Guest the -One-eyed came crawling on hands and knees up the slope towards the -house. Ørlygur, seeking solitude for the enjoyment of his thoughts and -dreams, was the only one out of doors; he at once noticed the -approaching figure, and hurried towards him, heartily glad at the -meeting. He no longer felt awkward or shy, but promptly seized the -beggar’s sack to carry up to the house himself. - -“I am glad you have come,” he said, shaking hands warmly. - -The old man stood up with difficulty; his legs were tottering under him. -He looked earnestly at the young man with his solitary eye, evidently -noting with satisfaction the unfeigned pleasure in his face. - -His brain throbbed still to the words: Home to Borg! home to Borg! And -he returned the young man’s greeting in a voice hardly audible. - -He had come home—and his son was glad to see him. - -Then suddenly he realized that his son did not know him, and the thought -dashed his gladness to the ground in a violent reaction. - -Ørlygur took him by the arm, and led him through to the courtyard. They -had nearly reached the house when Alma came out, leaning on old Kata’s -arm. Kata had seen him coming, and had brought her mistress out to meet -him. - -At sight of the two women, Guest the One-eyed all but fell. With an -effort, Ørlygur led him to the big slab of stone that stood in the -middle of the courtyard and could be used as a seat. The old man sank -down on it, covering his face with his hands. - -Ørlygur, alarmed at the old man’s evident illness, hurried into the -house to call his father. - -Kata was in high spirits, and talked volubly to her mistress. - -“I knew he would come; it was to be. Not a doubt of it but God has -brought him here, at the end of his wanderings. Truly God is Almighty.” - -But the beggar sat on his stone, sobbing and murmuring brokenly: - -“My God! my God!—this is my doing; I have put out the light of her soul. -Those empty eyes! O God, a dreadful thing! And Thou hast willed it so, -that I should see and understand there could be no forgiveness, for all -my prayers no mercy.... Lord, Thy will be done!” - -The two women came up to him; he raised his head and looked at them, -with fear in his eyes. - -The Danish Lady came nearer, and stroked his hair. - -But old Kata took his hand, and said: - -“Welcome now! God has forgiven you.” - -The man sat still, with a face of despair, the tears pouring down his -cheeks. - -“God can never forgive me,” he said. - -“He can,” said old Kata earnestly. “God can forgive all sins of all -mankind. And you have borne His punishment with patience.” - -“I have borne His punishment, yes. And now there is only death.” - -The old woman’s wrinkled face lit with a smile. - -“Be glad of that,” she said. - -Guest the One-eyed sat drinking in the peace that flowed to him through -the gentle touch of Alma’s fingers as they stroked his hair. Old Kata -watched him, and understood. - -“See,” she said, “she does not know—and yet she knows enough. That is -her way with all who she feels are good at heart and suffering. No other -would she touch. And never has she come to any with such tenderness as -now. Heaven bless her.” - -“Heaven bless her,” repeated the broken man. - -Just at that moment Ormarr came out from the house, Ørlygur close behind -him. The boy had whispered to his father that Guest the One-eyed had -come, and was evidently ill. Ormarr had risen immediately and came -striding out now with a friendly smile on his face. - -The beggar rose to his feet, looked him in the face, and bowed his head. -Ormarr stood rooted to the spot, and deathly pale. This old man, this -wandering beggar, was his brother, the one-time priest—the Devil’s -Priest. And in a moment all the stories he had heard of him passed -through Ormarr’s mind—his wisdom, his unselfishness, his generosity and -self-sacrifice. Ormarr saw the depth of his misery, how deeply he was -crushed and humbled, body and soul. And he had seen Alma caressing him, -thus placing him at once among the “good.” And this living witness to -Life’s vengeance upon sin, with its merciless humiliation, wiped away -all hatred from his heart. But a moment ago he had hated his brother; -now all was changed. Ormarr sought down into the depths of his heart to -see if any vestige of hate remained, but found none; all unkindliness -was gone, and only pity and sympathy remained—yes, and love. Once more -the vision of the night before rose to his eyes. - -Swiftly he stepped towards the pitiful figure and raised him up; the two -stood sobbing in each other’s arms. Two sufferers under the heavy yoke -of life; two creatures with whom life had played its pitiless game of -love and hate; two brothers in strife and sorrow. - -And when they had stood thus awhile, Ormarr kissed his brother and -stroked his cheek, and said: - -“Welcome home, brother.” - -And Ketill answered: “God bless you, Ormarr. I have come from our -father’s grave, and I felt in my heart that you would forgive me.” - -Ørlygur had been watching the scene with deep emotion. At first he saw -in it nothing but an unusually hearty welcome on the part of Ormarr -towards a wandering beggar. But gradually it became clear to him that it -was more than this, and as their words revealed the truth, he stood half -wondering if it could be real. - -Then Ormarr turned to him and said: - -“Ørlygur, it is your father.” - -For a moment the young man stood still, his face twitching in the effort -to control his feelings. Then he gave up and, sobbing openly, embraced -the old man in his turn. - -Here was a new joy, a thing undreamed of. From childhood he had believed -his father dead, and in death remembered only with execration by all who -had known him. And here was his father alive, a man whom all who knew -him blessed. No longer any need to ask if it were not possible to find -some little good in all his father’s deeds; Guest the One-eyed was a man -whose good deeds were told on every side. This was his father; one whom -the whole country blessed and revered for his Christian spirit and -unselfish life. A man who left with all some kindly memory of every -meeting; one who knew better than all his fellows how to bring out the -good in every man. However terribly he might have sinned, it had been -more than atoned for in those twenty years of humility and -self-sacrifice. Surely the life of Guest the One-eyed was enough to -expiate all. - -So Ørlygur thought, as he wept in his father’s arms, and his heart -trembled to think how wonderful were the ways of life. - -Suddenly the old man shivered and sank down, unable to stand. They -helped him to a seat on the stone, supporting him tenderly. His body -shook with a convulsive fit of coughing; his mouth filled with blood, -and he smiled as he saw what it was. - -Ormarr and Ørlygur carried him into the house, Kata and Alma following -behind. - -As soon as they had laid him on the bed, Ormarr left the room, saying he -would return directly. - -He went into the large dining-room, where his wife was still busy with -supper for the workers. A girl who was helping her left the room as he -entered; Ormarr closed the door behind her. - -Runa glanced at him, laid down the things she was holding, and sat down -on a chest. - -“What is it, Ormarr?” she asked in a low, anxious voice. - -Ormarr opened his lips to speak, but could not. He took her hand and sat -stroking her hair. - -“This,” he said at last. “Guest the One-eyed has come. And he is -ill—very ill—I fear he is dying.” - -“Dying—oh, what can we do? What is it? Can we get a doctor to help?” - -Runa had risen to her feet as she spoke, but something in Ormarr’s look -checked her, and she sat down again. - -Ormarr’s voice was hardly recognizable as he went on: - -“There is more. Guest the One-eyed is ... is my brother ... Ketill....” - -“Ketill! Alive?” - -Ormarr was silent. - -“He lives,” said Runa, as if to herself. “Thank God—thank God for that!” - -“You—you are glad of that,” said Ormarr eagerly. Then he turned away. -“He is here,” he went on, “and dying. I have forgiven him—and Alma ... -she was stroking his hair....” - -“Alma?” repeated Runa, deeply moved. “Oh ... and that is Guest the -One-eyed. No wonder that he never came here before.” - -Ormarr sat down beside his wife, then rose again. “Shall we ... will you -come and see him?” he said. “We have put him to bed in the little room.” - -“Yes,” said Runa. “Do you think he will die?” - -“I am afraid so.” - -“If only death may bring him peace. It has been a weary way for him.” - -They entered the room together. Ketill lay very still, and the others -were careful not to disturb him. He opened his eyes as they approached, -and at sight of Runa he covered his face with his hands. - -She bent over him, and kissed his forehead gently. Then, sitting down at -the bedside, she said in a calm, soft voice: - -“Look at me, Ketill.” - -She laid her hands on his and said again: - -“Look at me, Ketill. It is all forgiven.” - -But he kept his face turned from her, and only muttered, sadly: - -“How could you ever forgive me?” - -“Look at me, Ketill, and see.” - -And he looked up into her eyes. - -“It is true,” he said. “Love—only love and kindness there. You have -forgiven me—thank you for that, Runa. Heaven bless you.” - -He lay still for a while, and his breathing seemed easier. Then suddenly -he raised his head and looked round. - -“Nothing left now but to die,” he said. “I can see it is getting dark -already. Let me see it to the end—the end of the day; the twilight and -dear faces round me. I shall not see tomorrow.” - -“Do not talk,” said Runa gently. “Do not tire yourself.” - -“Let me talk,” he answered, with a smile. “My tongue will not have long -to talk at all; it will last me the little that is left. Perhaps it -might speak some little word that would live in memory—if only that -might be. My friends, do not think I fear to die—that I would put it off -a single second if I could. It would be good to live with you, but there -is more than that to think of. Only death can make atonement -complete—and blessed be death for that it does. Forgive me for my -words—I would not hurt you, any one, or make light of your goodness—you, -who have forgiven me. But it is true that only death can give me peace -and forgiveness of all.” - -He looked from one to another of those standing round. - -“Friends—beautiful faces,” he went on. “And I can see the souls of all -through your eyes, and all your thoughts. My heart bleeds for all the -pain and sorrowing that I who was Sera Ketill left to you. Even you, my -son, young as you are, have found suffering already in life. Shall I -tell you what I read in your eyes now? Sorrow—sorrow that you cannot -feel all regret now that your father is to die. Do not grieve that I -tell you, Ørlygur; your thoughts are the clean, good thoughts of a -child, and I love them. There is more in your mind too. I know what it -means to you to learn now that your father did not die as you thought—a -suicide. But Sera Ketill died then, only a Guest on earth remained -behind. And there is one thing more, that you yourself perhaps would not -have said before so many—you are thinking of the girl you have chosen, -and how she, too, will be glad to hear what you have learned today. Come -here to me, Ørlygur, and take my blessing.” - -Ørlygur rose, and the tears he had been trying bravely to repress flowed -freely now. He fell on his knees beside the bed, and hid his face in the -coverlet. The old man laid his hand on his son’s head. - -“Best that it should be said,” he went on. “And you may be glad of your -choice. Her heart is pure, as yours is. And she will be faithful—as you. -Clean and pure in heart....” - -He broke off, weeping. - -“Clean and pure in heart,” he murmured brokenly. “Oh, that I had been -so ... that I had been....” - -His voice was lost, and for some time he could not speak. Then with an -effort he controlled himself, and spoke again: - -“Nothing done can be undone. By the grace of God it may seem that wrong -has been atoned for and forgiven. I do not know whether I have atoned -for my sins, or whether they can ever be wiped out. Ormarr, you are -wondering yourself now how it can be that the hatred of me that still -glowed for a moment in your eyes when you found me before has vanished -so suddenly. Shall I tell you why it was? It was because you saw and -understood how I had suffered—suffered the pains of hell, more than a -man can bear. And because you had suffered too. In suffering all hearts -meet; more than all, when death and the ties of blood are there to help. -And you, Runa, you are thanking God that I am still alive, and that I -have suffered as I have. Never a doubt in your heart but that God has -forgiven me. And so you, too, have forgiven. Kata, you and I can read -each other’s thoughts; our thoughts are one. And though you know it -before I speak, let me say it; it is you I have to thank most of all.” - -He was silent for a moment, turned over on his side, and went on: - -“At the moment when it was in my mind to throw myself into the sea—I had -thought to drown myself in my despair—I remembered you. I had often -thought of you, and guessed something of the sorrow at your heart, -though you never let it be seen. I knew your story—knew that one had -deceived you, and that you could not forget. I saw how you went about as -a blessing to others, though you suffered more than all the rest. And it -seemed to me that perhaps your life was, after all, the greatest -thing—greater than all else, to put self aside and live for others. And -it was then I felt the desire to try if I could not wipe away my sin—try -to spread blessings around me instead of despair. And so I fled away to -a distant part, hiding at night and travelling by day. ‘Guest’ I called -myself, and was the poorest of men, a beggar, a wanderer, living by the -grace of God and man, eating with the dogs, and sleeping at night in -barns or sheds among the cattle. And I had not wandered long before I -found enough for me to do. Wherever I came, I found strife and malice -and envy and misunderstanding among those who should have lived together -in love. And I took upon me to work for reconciliation between my -fellow-men—with one another, and with life and death. For men forget -that life is but a speck in the vastness of space without end; that life -comes from death and moves towards death in a narrow circle. And so they -fight to the death, and seek to wound their fellows, ay, and strew -poison in their wounds, forgetting that every hurt a man deals his -fellow burns deepest in his own heart. With hands thirsting for blood -and souls afire with hate they fight one against another—as they had -fought for generations. And the priests—the servants of God? Why do they -not go out among the people, speaking to each, and trying to link the -souls of all together in brotherly love? Instead of standing up like -idols aloof in their pulpits, and delivering the word of God as an -oracle. _That_ is the only priesthood that is worthy of its name, the -only way to show forth God’s word so that it shall be felt and -understood and live in the soul itself. I could have won many a man to -leave his home and follow me—to leave his father and mother, his wife, -and go with me. But how many are ripe for such a task? And it was not -for that I had set out upon my way.” - -The fever increased. He lay bathed in perspiration, and his eyes -glittered more brightly than before. The others gathered closer round -him, trying to calm him, begging him not to tire himself with talking, -but he went on: - -“And now that I am to go, my greatest sorrow is that there is none to -take up my poor work. For what is the work of one man? Oh, if there were -enough; if there were many who could understand that the greatest of all -is to put aside self and bring peace on earth. That the greatest joy of -all is to be a poor man, going from place to place and showing others -the way to free their hearts from the yoke of worldly things. But the -priests—they have taken office and would keep it; they are paid for -their work in money, and grasp at it; they seek a higher and a higher -place in worldly things, for their heart is set on worldly gain—not with -their people, not with their God. It is much to ask. I know—too much to -ask of any in these days. But it is because none will give it that -hatred and dissension live and grow. I do not know—forgive me that I say -this—I do not _know_ if there is any God, but I believe and hope it. If -I should say I know, it would be a lie. But I do know that there is more -happiness in peace than in a divided mind. I know that enmity makes the -heart evil, and that friendship makes it good. And I know that our life -is made richer by love and goodness; easier to bear, more natural. Where -all is hatred and strife, who can find any meaning in life at all? The -only thing that helps us to understand life at all is our own striving -for the best in it.” - -The room grew darker. As the sick man spoke his last words, the daylight -faded. - -“Light,” he said. “The darkness will be long enough when it comes.” - -A candle was lighted and placed beside the bed. Silence filled the room, -broken only by the old man’s heavy breathing. Those around him were busy -each with his own thoughts. Alma sat on the sofa, and had apparently -lapsed into her usual state of semi-consciousness, from which the -arrival of the wanderer had roused her for a moment. It grew dark and -the light was lit, but she did not heed. - -Suddenly the old man whispered faintly: - -“Help me off with my clothes.” - -Runa and Ormarr did so; tears came to their eyes at the sight of his -miserable rags. Ørlygur sat apart, his face swollen with weeping. Ketill -smiled as the cold sheets touched his body. - -Suddenly his expression changed to one of earnest thought. And after a -little while he asked: - -“If—if Alma would come and sit beside me here.” - -The Danish Lady roused herself a little as they helped her to the -bedside; she took the sick man’s hands in hers and stroked them. Then -after a little while she sank back into helplessness again. - -Ketill lay with a smile on his face. Once he tried to lift his head, but -could not. - -“Only a little while now,” he said. Then, glancing towards old Kata, he -went on: - -“Lay her hands on my lips, that I may kiss them.” - -Kata did so. - -“Forgive me,” he murmured, as he kissed the limp hands of her who had -been his wife. “And good-bye for a little while.” - -“It is time now,” he said faintly—“time to say good-bye to all.” - -One after another bent over him, kissed his forehead, and received the -touch of his lips. - -Ørlygur came last. He threw himself down sobbing on the bed. - -“My son—my son,” the old man whispered. Then his face seemed to harden, -and he lay as if unconscious. After a while he looked up again, and -seemed trying to speak. Faintly at first, then in a stronger voice, he -spoke once more: - -“God—God—my God!...” - -His hands twitched feebly. - -“Are you still there? Have they all gone?” - -His hands dropped limply to his sides. Those near him touched his -fingers, but could not speak. - -“I can feel you are with me still. But I cannot move my hands. Is this -death?” - -He breathed with difficulty. - -Suddenly, with his old, powerful voice, he cried aloud: - -“Alma, Alma!” - -He raised himself up in bed and then fell back. Guest the One-eyed—a -Guest on earth for twenty weary years—was no more. And Sera Ketill, -priest, had won the peace he sought. - -Those who watched and understood had eyes only for the man there on the -bed. None noticed the Danish Lady. - -When her name was called, Alma clutched at her heart. Now she sat still, -looking vaguely round. Then, rising, she asked in a new voice that made -the others start. - -“Where am I?” - -And, flushing slightly, she went on: - -“That was Ketill’s voice.” - -She pressed her hands to her breast once more, and sank down. Her heart -had ceased to beat. - -Her sudden, unexpected death came with a shock to the others, and they -stopped weeping. For a moment all stood as if turned to stone. - -Then they lifted her up and laid her on the bed beside her husband. And -all knelt beside the bed in silent prayer. - -The candle flickered in the dark, throwing a restless gleam on the pale -faces of the dead. The darkness seemed creeping in to cover them. - -For a little all was deathly still. - -Then old Kata rose and opened a window—“to let the souls pass out.” And, -going over to the others, she knelt with them beside the bed. - -But the light went out in the draught, and darkness closed about the -living and the dead. - - - - - BOOK IV - THE YOUNG EAGLE - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -A pale face showed behind a window in a dimly lighted room. The features -were young, but sharply marked, and the eyes had a strange, far-away -look. It was as if they were peering into life from within the portals -of death, or as if searching into the great unknown, striving to fathom -the hereafter, longing for peace, praying for peace, yet finding none. -Finding only a growing unrest, a torturing uncertainty that grew and -grew, an ever-increasing agony of longing. - -That is what the night saw. - -But the eyes behind the window looked out over the landscape that lay -spread before them in shadowy billows under the dark autumn sky, seeking -to recognize something here and there. That way should be a homestead; -it was there in the daylight; surely it should be visible now. But the -eyes looked in vain; the gazer found himself at last imagining that the -great expanse of shadow was that of a cloud on which he sailed across -the sky. - -There was a sort of comfort in thus letting imagination run its course. -Yet unconsciously he pressed his foot to the floor, as if to make sure -of being still on earth. Up in the whirling ocean of space there was no -lasting foothold anywhere. And yet it was a pleasant fancy—to be sailing -through the sky. Clouds were things that came and went, and melted into -space under the rays of the sun. When this particular cloud on which he -rode should end, and he himself be hurled through space, where would he -land? Would he land anywhere at all? - -He expected to see the dark shadow change its shape, but in vain. This -was a check; the sameness of the outlook irritated him. Evidently both -he and his cloud were shamefully dull, that they could not move better -than this. - -And he looked up towards the heavens, as if to call the attention of his -lazy cloud to its swifter-moving fellows above. - -No sooner had he done so, however, than his flight of fancy was -forgotten. There were the stars—and they fascinated him in turn. - -Grey clouds spread their net across the heavens, drifting rapidly from -west to east, hiding and revealing the twinkling stars as they raced by. - -Suddenly it seemed to him as if the clouds were standing still, and the -stars themselves moved across the sky, crawling hurriedly over the -meshes of the cloudy net, showing clear in a blue space one moment and -vanishing the next. - -So intently did he follow the fancied movement of the stars that in a -little time his eyes were dazzled; it seemed as if he himself had been -drawn into a dance of stars. - -He closed his eyes. And, as he did so, sank into oblivion, with a -disturbed yet sorely needed rest. - -It was only for a moment. Abruptly he again became conscious of his -surroundings. His vision returned from its wild wanderings, and crept, -as it were, behind him—he saw himself—a pale face behind the window in a -dimly lighted room. - -The sight came as a shock; grim reality had taken the place of fancy -now. And a sensation of horror came over him—he started back from the -window as if he had seen a ghost. - -His eyes fell upon the two open coffins, with their white draperies, -that seemed to take shape as he watched them—the shape of what lay -within. The dim light of the tapers helped to bring him back to the -present, and even the weight of grief that came with it brought in its -train a restfulness of its own. - -Silently he crossed the room and sat down at the foot of the coffins, -gazing at them till the white of the wrappings pained his eyes. - -Then, bending forward, he fell into a fit of sobbing. A sense of utter -helplessness came over him; soul and sense were dulled. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Someone was scraping cautiously at the door. - -He sprang from his seat, and fear gripped his heart once more. He rubbed -his eyes, realizing that he had been asleep, and stared round him to see -what had wakened him. - -The noise was renewed, this time with a subdued whine. He grew calmer -now, and opened the door. - -A pair of brown eyes and the sharp nose of a dog appeared in the gloom -of the passage. The animal looked up at him pleadingly, waiting for -leave to enter. And once inside, it stopped still. - -Ørlygur seated himself once more by the coffins, taking no heed of the -dog. He had forgotten it. For the moment he was occupied wholly with a -sense of dissatisfaction with himself; time after time that night he had -allowed himself to be taken by surprise. First, he had let fancy run -riot in his brain; then, on coming to himself, he had given way to a -sense of fear; sleep had overcome him, and on waking he had allowed -himself to give way to fear again. He knew there was nothing to fear; he -was no coward—it was only when taken by surprise.... - -Involuntarily he glanced towards the door, where the dog had lain down. -A pair of bright, watchful eyes met his, and the thought flashed through -his mind that no human being could be more faithful than this dog. He -beckoned it to him, and the animal promptly obeyed. It crept up close to -him and laid its head upon his knees, licking his hand affectionately. - -For a moment he enjoyed the kindly touch. Then his thoughts went -wandering again. - -“I can never be happy again,” he thought to himself. “I cannot -understand how any one can be happy now. What pleasure is there in -anything? Everything dies at last. Eternity—the everlasting—it is -terrible to think of. And all one’s life but a drop in the ocean—what -does it matter if we live or die? And our joys and sorrows—what are -they, after all? All becomes insignificant. Some are glad when the sun -shines; others are glad without knowing why. It is simple foolishness. -Have they never seen a man die? Do they forget that one day they, too, -must die?—die and rot ...” - -The tears flowed down his cheeks, but he did not move; his features were -set as though already stiffening in death. - -“Die and rot in the grave....” - -And he breathed softly, as if breathing in the air of death in the room, -while the tears still flowed. - -Suddenly he closed his eyes, and pictured himself dead and rotting—his -flesh pale and bloodless—turning green and ghastly—falling from the -bones, hanging in strips from the fingers and stripping like a mask from -the face to bare the clenched, grinning teeth. - -He opened his eyes with a start; an icy shiver passed through him, and -he clenched his hands. But he did not move from his seat. - -“God in heaven,” he thought, “I am going mad!” - -His tears ceased to flow. And in a moment he was cool and collected once -more. It was as if the trouble had passed from him, leaving only a deep -earnestness. - -And in unconscious effort to protect himself his thoughts turned towards -the woman he loved. - -He saw her now, in his mind; her lovely figure, her masses of golden -hair, her bright, smiling face, and her eyes, that spoke so eloquently -when they met his. Involuntarily he smiled. - -But no sooner was he conscious of having smiled than the joy was gone, -and his face relapsed into the same cold, sad look. - -“If she had never seen me,” he thought. “If she had lived far away, or -in some other time—then her eyes would have smiled at the sight of -another as they do now for me. What is it all worth after all? An -accident—a casual chance. Or could it be that, even if both she and I -had been different, we should have loved each other still?” - -Tears came to his eyes. - -“I can never be happy,” he thought again. “Once I was always happy; -always sure that the future would bring joy, more joy ... and I never -dreamed but that it was good and happy to live. Now I am changed. I -cannot understand it all. Everything seems different—even my thoughts -are new to me. All changed ... I am like a stranger to myself. And -why—what is the cause of it all? Because my father that I believed to be -dead comes home alive—and dies.” - -He sat staring before him. - -Once more he surveyed the varied phases through which he had passed from -the time when ten days before he had first come upon Guest the One-eyed -in the mountains—not knowing then that the wise and kindly wanderer, -beloved of all, was no other than his father, the hated Sera Ketill, who -had disappeared twenty years back, and was looked on as dead—from that -first meeting until now, when he sat keeping watch over two corpses; -that of the beggar who had been twenty years on pilgrimage to expiate -his sins, and that of his wife, the Danish Lady at Hof, who during those -twenty years had paid the penalty of her husband’s crimes, only to -forgive him at the last and follow him on his last long journey across -the river of Death. - -It was a week now since the two had died. And they were to be buried -next day. - -Ørlygur had begged and received permission to watch over them on this -their last night on earth. It had been his great desire to keep that -vigil alone, for he hoped that the night would bring him some revelation -of himself; his feelings, his strength, his will. - -The succession of unexpected happenings, the complete revolution in his -inner and outer life, had left him in a state of vague unrest, a prey to -dreams and longings hitherto unknown to him. A strange and mysterious -power seemed hovering over him, possessing him completely. All life -seemed changed. - -The desire for common worldly pleasures and success, the thought of -being looked up to by his fellow-men—all seemed empty and meaningless -now—or even sinful. - -The dying words of Guest the One-eyed had burnt themselves into his -heart, filling him with remorse and spiritual unrest. What was it he had -said about a successor—one to carry on his work—to show his fellows that -the greatest joy in life was a pilgrimage in poverty and humility, -setting aside all worldly things?... - -Ørlygur could not forget—the dying man’s voice; his intonation remained -firmly impressed on his mind; he saw again the look of sadness on the -wrinkled face as the wanderer lay back on his pillow. - -And to him, the son of the aged pilgrim, it was as the opening of a new -world of thought. He had promised himself to take up the task, to -continue the work his father had begun, without a thought of the -difficulties that might lie in his way. - -As long as the undertaking remained as but an inward emotion, a -consciousness of his intention, burning within him like a sacred flame -that consumed all gloomy doubts, so long did he feel himself uplifted in -soul, raised far above to a height where his bereavement itself seemed -but a little thing. He almost felt that in thus bowing to his father’s -will and vowing to accomplish his desire, he had saved the weary pilgrim -from the horror of death. - -And for a while the difficulties of realization never crossed his mind. - -At times he did remember that he was a lover. But the self-reproach with -which he realized that he had for a time forgotten his love passed off -again: a momentary remembrance, no more. - -During the first days of this his new passion he was as one entranced, -lifted above himself in a fervour of resolve. His soul was possessed by -one thought, by a mighty dazzling dream. A glorious ray of golden light -streamed into his mind, to the exclusion of all else. His soul answered -to but one note—the mighty theme of self-sacrifice that rang through it. - -Intoxicated with joy, he passed the long nights without sleep. At first -the new, strange exultation more than outweighed the physical strain, -and the grey days that came and went seemed bright and beautiful. He had -never known what it was to suffer from sleeplessness; nights without -sleep seemed now but an added treasure, an extended scope for happy -consciousness. But soon the climax came, and his feast of dreams was at -an end. - -The days lost their beauty. He was weary and irritable from the moment -he rose; he longed for night to come, for peace and solitude in which to -dream again. But when night came and he sought to gather up once more -the threads of his imaginings, his brain was dull, and his mind refused -to frame new thoughts. At first he tried to content himself with merely -recalling what he had dreamed before. It satisfied him for a while, but -a repetition showed the things once glorious as dull and faded; he could -hardly understand how he had ever been so moved by what now seemed vague -and distant. And with sorrow in his heart, as for something lost, he -fell asleep. Next day he resolved to watch the last night by the dead, -and had obtained his wish to keep the vigil alone. - -It had not dawned upon him that he had already been defeated—that the -life he had resolved upon was a thing foreign to him, with no root in -his soul, an abrupt departure from his natural bent and his former ways. -He did not know that suffering was a gift of Fate, granted to many, yet -to few in such extent that they are able to forget their own good and -ill, and live for others wholly. He did not know that it is only the -chosen of Sorrow who are freed from all thought of self. - -Even had he grasped the truth, it would not have helped him to -relinquish his ideas and admit they were but weavings of an -over-sensitive mind. His nature was too stubborn to give in without a -bitter struggle. - -And his doubts did not come openly to begin with, but in disguise; only -later, after long uncertainty and pondering, did they reveal themselves -as what they were. - -Irresolution, following on the tense pitch of excitement, rendered him -distrustful of himself to an unwonted degree. - -He sat now with bowed head, as if listening intently in a world of -silence. And it seemed as if the silence spoke to him. No natural -utterance, this sound that reached his ears, but an unknown tongue, a -passing murmur of something mysterious—a wave that rose and fell, now -loud, now low. - -He strove with all his sense to find some meaning—at times it seemed as -if words and sentences were there, but disconnected, without any purport -he could understand. - -Breathlessly he listened. His brain throbbed; all his faculties were -concentrated in one present effort; this thing that was being told him -now—he must hear it, understand it. That was all his task. Perhaps it -might solve all the riddles of his questioning—give him a key to life. - -And suddenly his sub-conscious mind came to his aid, whispering some -lines from a poem by Hjalmar à Bolu. And in relief he murmured the words -to himself, lifting his head and breathing freely once more: - - “If Thou wilt not hear my words, - Divine, eternal grace, - Then shall the burning cry of my blood - Sunder the heavens about Thee.” - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -The stars in the east grew fainter, till they paled into nothingness, -and the day rose slowly over the hills. - -The clouds had gone, save for a heavy bank that hung becalmed in the -west. Daylight spread abroad, and the blue of the sky grew brighter, -until it almost lost itself in a shimmering white. - -A strangely beautiful morning; the earth seemed aglow with such delight -of day as is only seen when its face is furrowed by autumn. The heather -shone blood-red on the hillside, as if striving to show the world that -its glow was that of life, and not of death. The waters of fjord and -stream were calm and still as if storm and turbulence were strangers -there. Even the unmown grass of the fields was smiling with dewdrops on -every yellowing stalk and blade reflecting the bright rays. And over the -close-cropped stretches where the grass had been cut, the dew lay in a -glistening carpet. Not a sound on the stillness of the air, not so much -as the cry of a sheep or the neighing of a horse. - -Not till the farm hands were astir, with an opening of doors and the -sound of human voices, was the spell broken, and the almost unworldly -stillness gave place to the work and life of common day. - -The first to open his door that morning was Ormarr à Borg. And he -remained standing with bowed head close outside the house. He was not -thinking of the world of nature about him, and paid no heed to the glory -of the morning sun that shone on his white hair and slight, stooping -figure. His features were strained, and the pallor of his face, the -redness of his eyes, showed that he had not slept. He stood a little -while, then folded his thin hands, with the fingers that were still -those of a violinist, bowed his head, and with closed eyes and -compressed lips prayed the Lord’s Prayer. - -Suddenly he drew himself up, passed his hands over his face, and smiled. - -“Strange,” he murmured. “Why should I have done that now? I have said -that prayer aloud in church for years, and at home with the rest. But I -have not said it by myself since I can remember.” - -The smile left his face, and he grew serious. “What is more strange,” he -continued, “is that I should feel almost ashamed of it myself after.” - -He shook his head. “Are we afraid of ourselves more than of others?” - -He raised his head and glanced round, seeking for something else to -occupy his mind. He noticed the beauty of the day, and felt the peace of -it with grateful relief. - -Then he turned, walked through the passage, and softly entered the room -where the dead lay. - -Ørlygur was seated by the coffins, his elbows on his knees and his face -buried in his hands. His dog lay at his feet, asleep. - -As Ormarr entered, he looked up; his eyes showed that he had been -sleeping. Ormarr smiled—a strangely gentle smile—but made no sign of -having seen that the boy had slept. But Ørlygur sprang to his feet, -flushing hotly, and answered only with an inaudible murmur when Ormarr -bade him good morning. - -Ormarr stepped quietly across the room and made the sign of the cross -above the bodies. Then, turning to Ørlygur, he said, with great -tenderness: - -“Go in and rest, lad, till it is time to start.” - -Ørlygur’s face had paled again; he looked straight in the other’s eyes. - -“No!” he said. And his tone was so harsh, so defiant, that Ormarr -wondered what could be in his mind. Possibly the lad was hurt at the -proposal coming a moment after he had awakened from sleep. - -“I did not mean to hurt you,” said Ormarr quietly. - -“I know,” answered Ørlygur in a gentler tone. “Don’t misunderstand me. I -only meant that—we can always get all the sleep we need—more than -enough.” - -Silently the two men left the room and went out into the open. - -Ormarr was anxious for a quiet talk with Ørlygur, whose manner lately -had been strange. He had formed his own opinion as to the reason—but -that last defiant “No!” and the frank, conciliatory tone of the -following words seemed to require some further explanation. - -It had occurred to Ormarr that, as he had never himself referred to the -girl Snebiorg, Ørlygur might perhaps imagine he was hostile to any union -between them, whereas nothing could be farther from his mind; had not -the boy’s father on his death-bed given him his blessing? Ormarr was -eager to make his attitude clear in regard to this at least. - -As they walked, he studied the young man’s face. There was a strange, -far-away look in his eyes that baffled him. - -He had intended to open the matter directly, but somehow he felt it -impossible to do so now. And, fearing lest Ørlygur should notice his -scrutiny, he looked away, and said casually: - -“The sun has come to warm the graves for them, it seems.” - -Ørlygur glanced up at the sun, and was silent for a moment; then he -answered absently: - -“Yes. The sun must have been his best friend in life.” - -The old man turned towards him; the tone and manner in which he had -spoken were unusual. - -“Those in misfortune,” he said softly, “have but few friends as a rule.” - -Ørlygur’s eyes took on the same fixed, determined look they had shown in -the chamber of death a little before. - -“He was not one of those in misfortune,” he answered steadily, with a -dignity beyond his years; “he was more fortunate than all.” - -Ormarr looked at him with his wise old eyes, as if to read his innermost -thoughts. But there was a tremor at his heart. “This is Faith,” he -thought to himself. “Faith in something that seems sure beyond all -doubt. It is the first time it has come to him in life. If the boy were -a Catholic, now, he would turn monk; he is convinced at this moment that -self-abnegation is the one true way. God alone knows the workings of his -mind, but it is a dangerous crisis to pass through.” - -And, looking away from him again, Ormarr pursued his own train of -thought. - -“He is hardly what one would call of a religious bent. That is well. It -may be only a slight attack; perhaps it will pass off. After all, he is -still a child in many ways. But he needs some one to help him—and must -not know it.” - -He smiled at a sudden thought. “I am glad I caught him asleep.” - -They reached the wall of the enclosure, and stopped. Then, as if he had -been thinking of this all the time, Ormarr began: - -“There was something I wanted to say to you. I would have left it till -later, but it is best to get it said. It is something that concerns you -deeply—I mean about the girl.” - -Ørlygur started slightly; Ormarr detected at once that he was ill at -ease. But he said nothing, and Ormarr went on: - -“You have said nothing to me about any relationship with her, and -perhaps it is as well. But from what your dear father said, you love one -another, and you yourself are fully determined to marry her. Is that -so?” - -Ørlygur was so taken aback that he was at a loss for a moment. He felt -that there were obstacles in the way, that he ought to make some -objection now. But he could do no more than stammer out a low-voiced -“Yes.” - -Ormarr was satisfied. He had gained something at once. And without -appearing to have marked the young man’s hesitation, still less divine -its cause, he continued: - -“Well, then, I don’t see any reason for delay. Once the matter has been -decided, the sooner it is accomplished, the better. I will confess that -at first I was not altogether disposed to approve of it. You may have -noticed that—and for that reason hesitated to tell me of your -intentions. But, now, I can only say that both your mother and myself -are looking forward with pleasure to your marriage. It will be the -happiest day of the life that yet remains to us when we can see you -wedded to the woman you love. And as far as we are concerned, there is -nothing to prevent your taking over the place here in the spring. We are -both a little weary, though we are not so very old. You will understand -that ours has not been a restful life, or a very happy one, and it will -be a double pleasure to see you happily settled. All that we wish for is -to end our days in peace. And so—God bless you. If our wishes could -secure it, Borg should be once more a home of happiness and peace.” - -Tears rose to Ormarr’s eyes as he spoke, and his hand trembled as he -offered it. He was deeply moved, partly by memories of the past that -rose up in his mind, and also by the thought that the young man’s -happiness depended on the success of his, Ormarr’s, own stratagem before -it was too late. - -Ørlygur grasped the hand held out to him. He wept at seeing his -foster-father’s emotion, and also because he felt that he was here being -forced into something; he was in a way defeated. But at the same time -the picture of Snebiorg rose to his mind; it seemed almost as if she -were there with them. What was he to do? Sooner or later he must either -prove false to her or to the promise he had silently given by his -father’s death-bed. For the moment he could come to no decision—he could -only weep. His helplessness pained him. It was terrible to think that he -must choose between giving up his love or betray his promise. - -He held Ormarr’s hand in his, and strove to speak, but could say nothing -for tears. - -Say something he must. And at length he stammered out: - -“Not now—I cannot. Another time. But not—not this spring.” - -He let go the other’s hand, and hurried away, with bowed head. But the -old man stood still, looking after him with tearful eyes. - -“Poor lad,” he murmured. “But—thank God, he loves her. And that will -save him.” - -Thoughtfully Ormarr walked back to the house. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -On leaving Ørlygur, Ormarr went in to see to the preparations for the -funeral. Ørlygur went off to a corner of the enclosure where he would be -out of sight of the house. There he stood, leaning against the wall, and -looking out over the valley. - -His tears had ceased, and a strange calm crept over him. “So it was -that,” he thought to himself. “It was that I could not understand. But I -see it now. I must choose between her and—my mission.” - -The idea involved in this last word made him start. - -“My mission—but how do I know it is that? Anyhow, whether or no, it does -not matter. I have promised—I have given my word to one who is now -dead—and that my father. I must either break my word to him, or desert -her.” - -He gazed thoughtfully up at the mountains. - -“Those mountains there—how wonderful they are. Peak after peak rising to -heaven, and sweet grassy slopes between. But loveliest looking down, on -to the glassy lakes. Borgarfjall, with its great masses of rock, rising -steeply up towards the sky. No one has ever set foot there—only the -eagles have ever reached those heights.” - -The look in his eyes faded, and he stood gazing vacantly before him. - -“Desert her,” he thought to himself. “She who leaned towards me, and -touched my cheek with her own. How could I think of it! _She_ could -never be faithless. How would she look if she learned?... Oh, the sight -would kill me. Nothing more terrible to see than the eyes of a creature -that has lost what it hoped for and believed in. To see that in her -eyes....” - -He laughed—a cold, forced laugh. - -“What a coward I am, after all. I can think of leaving her, forsaking -her, and breaking promises so sacred that they could not even be uttered -in words. But I dare not even think of meeting her eyes when she knows. -What a cur I must be—and I—I would go out into the world as an apostle.” - -He shook his head. - -“It is madness. How could I ever bring peace to any soul, when I start -my pilgrimage by robbing her who trusted me of her heart’s peace?” - -An evil light showed in his eyes. - -“I wonder ... would she really suffer so very much after all?...” - -He clenched his fists. - -“Oh, I deserve to be whipped! And, in any case, I am not worthy of _her_ -love. It seems I am growing into a rogue. I dare not look her in the -face now. Her eyes—so pure ... and her soul, clean and free from any -evil thought. And she—she trusts me—trusts _me_ ... it is horrible!” - -He drew a deep breath. - -“I might go to her, and tell her everything. She would understand. -But—her heart would feel but one thing of it all—that we must part. And -that is all that my heart can feel now.” - -He sighed, but in a moment his face hardened again. - -“This is temptation. And I was nearly giving way. Nearly gave in at the -first onset. I am too weak. The first thing to do is to take some -decisive step, to cut off all retreat. But how?” - -A thought came suddenly to his mind, and he shuddered. - -“Today—at the graveside. Say it there, say it for all to hear; swear -it ... and then I shall be bound for life, for ever. And then—what -then?” - -His whole body trembled; his teeth chattered; he cried to God in his -agony of doubt. But he felt that his prayer was not sincere. And with -faltering step he made his way back to the house. - -A voice within him spoke, urging him earnestly, clearly: - -“Do not do it. It is more than you can keep. You may say the words, but -you will not mean what you say from your heart. What _can_ you do or -say?” - -He would not listen, but he tried in vain to disregard the voice that -would be heard. He staggered like a drunken man; his strength failed -him. - -Then the first voice died away and another spoke scornfully: - -“You will make a fool of yourself, that is all.” - -He stopped suddenly, and turned pale. But only for a moment. Then he -walked on with a firm step. - -“That was vanity,” he murmured. “It was only my fear of what others -would think. Now I know what I have to do.” - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -The funeral of Guest the One-eyed and the Danish Lady was to take place -at noon. - -From the time Ørlygur returned to the house to the setting out of the -funeral train, the hours had passed without his knowing it. Great -numbers of people flocked to the house; all greeted him when they -arrived. Some he greeted in return; others he did not appear to notice -at all. He was strangely absent in his manner, but this was readily -forgiven, as being due to his grief at the sudden loss. - -When he was called in to bid a last farewell to the mortal remains -before the coffins were closed, he burst into a violent fit of sobbing. -His meditations of the night before on the emptiness of worldly things, -the hopelessness of life, returned to him vividly. He was conscious, -too, that it was not only the death of these two who had gone that -pained him most. He saw himself as a miserably selfish creature. At such -a time, there should be no place in his heart for other feeling than -sorrow at the double bereavement, and yet in fact he was only sorry for -himself. He despised himself; he felt that if others could read his -heart they would look down on him in scorn. Their word of sympathy and -consolation stung him; he shrank from the thought of the ceremony to -come, when he would be forced to take part with all these others. - -Why not bury our dear ones quietly, in some secluded spot? Why make an -exhibition of one’s grief before the world? In his own case, it was the -more intolerable, since his grief was in reality not for the dead. - -He heard the lids screwed down, and stood weeping, with his handkerchief -to his eyes. Suddenly he became aware of a stir in the room, and looked -up. People were standing round with Prayer Books in their hands, turning -the pages to find the hymn that was to be sung. - -The priest, whom he had not noticed before, was there standing by the -coffins, book in hand. - -Ørlygur again pressed his handkerchief to his eyes. The priest was -speaking, but he paid no heed to what was being said, and continued to -weep silently. - -Then there was a pause, and the bearers prepared to move. A psalm was to -be sung as the coffins were carried out. - -Ørlygur dried his eyes and hurried away, all moving aside respectfully -to let him pass. He ground his teeth, and could hardly refrain from -crying out. - -“They should spit on me,” he thought to himself. “It is no more than I -deserve. I am unworthy of their sympathy—I do not even care for it!” For -a moment he felt as if he must shout the thought aloud. - -Outside the house some one handed him the reins of his horse; the animal -stood there ready saddled. He stood beside it, one arm thrown over the -animal’s neck. The horse rubbed itself affectionately against him, as if -inviting the customary caress. But he took no heed, and remained -standing motionless. His dog lay at the feet of the horse, and looked -up; the two animals exchanged greetings in their own way, sniffing at -each other. - -The coffins were to be carried by horses, two to each burden. The first -pair were brought forward, and planks slung between them. Then a psalm -was sung, and the first coffin fastened in its place. - -When both were thus secured, the train moved off, the mourners and -followers leading their horses until the psalm was at an end. Then all -mounted, and rode on in silence towards the vicarage at Hof. - -Ørlygur rode behind the second coffin, gazing out over the country with -tear-stained eyes. - -“It all looks strange,” he thought to himself. “As if it were there only -for a time. Or is it only myself that am become a stranger? My mind that -has so changed that nothing in it now can last? It seems so. We see -things according to the mood of our own mind. I seem like a stone set -rolling, knowing nothing of where it will stop. - -“Not a pleasant thing to be compared with, either. A rolling stone must -needs be on the downward track. Well, after all, most comparisons have a -weakness somewhere. A stone rolling down from barren mountains to a -grassy valley, where it finds a softer bed, has surely changed for the -better. But my path lies the opposite way. And no one ever knew a stone -roll upward. Only the glowing rock, hurled from the bowels of the earth -by a volcano, comes to a rest in the mountains after an upward flight. -Oh, what nonsense!” he broke off. “I am not a stone. - -“Or, at least, it is only my heart that is of stone,” he went on -bitterly. “Why can I feel no real grief at my loss? Why is there room in -my heart for all these things on such a day as this? Am I worse than -other people, I wonder? I do not feel unkindly towards any one. Or is it -that _thinking_ of sorrow stifles the real sorrow itself? If _she_ were -dead....” - -He turned pale at the thought, and tears flowed from his eyes. - -“God in heaven! That would mean death to me—to live would be impossible. -Her body to decay, her golden hair to be soiled by earth—her eyes -lifeless and dull....” - -His heart beat as if it would burst, and he shivered. - -“Death is disgusting,” he thought. - -Suddenly he ceased to weep, and a silence seemed to fill him. - -“I cannot bear to think of her as dead,” he thought. “And yet I have -planned to do that which will ruin her life—to kill her love, and strike -her soul the cruellest blow that any human being can inflict upon -another. What a desperate tangle it all is. Would it not be better for -her to die? Would it not be better if I were to end her life—kill her at -once? Surely it would. But it was not her I was thinking of. I was only -thinking of myself; not of what would be best for her, but of what would -hurt me least. And if it were better for her to die, then what I am -about to do is a greater crime than if I took her life....” - -Ørlygur was so deep in thought that he did not observe the progress of -the party until they had reached the churchyard, and the others -dismounted. Only when the coffin in front, on which his eyes were fixed, -was lowered to the ground did he come to himself and get down from his -horse. - -His last thoughts had almost stunned him; his brain seemed incapable of -normal action. As if in a trance he followed the coffins into the -church, and remained standing with bowed head while the psalms were sung -and the priest delivered his oration. He noticed nothing of what was -passing round him. - -In a few minutes now they would be at the graveside; the coffins would -be lowered, and then, as was the custom, he would be expected to say -something himself. - -What should he say? There was no clear idea in his mind—well, no doubt -something would occur to him when the moment came. What he said did not -matter much, as long as he said something. - -The coffins were brought out, and the mourners gathered close round the -double grave. Ørlygur stood just behind the mound of earth that had been -thrown up. - -The coffins were lowered into the earth, the mourners singing and -weeping; the priest cast earth into the grave, and the last hymn was -sung. Mechanically Ørlygur stepped up on to the mound. He felt that all -eyes were upon him—that all were waiting expectantly for him to speak. -He raised his eyes, and looked round. - -His gaze fell on a pair of tear-stained blue eyes on the other side of -the grave. There was a look in them almost of fear—an anxious -uncertainty such as he had never before seen on _her_ face. But no -sooner had her eyes met his than her expression changed, and the strange -look vanished. - -It had never occurred to him that Snebiorg might be at the funeral; he -had not noticed her till now. She had been among those who joined the -party at the church. It was a shock to him to see her now, so overcome -with grief, and with that look of doubt and fear upon her face—it struck -him to the heart. - -And here he stood, on a mound by the graveside, with all eyes upon him. -All were waiting to hear what he would say. Speak now he must. He pulled -himself together, but his heart trembled at the thought of what he must -say. _She_ was standing there. Well, she would forgive him, when she -heard it all—heard the confession and the promise from his own mouth. - -He looked round hesitatingly. His foster-father was looking at him with -a strange expression—a look that made him lower his eyes. - -Ormarr had seen that Ørlygur was about to speak. He did not know what -was in the boy’s mind, but something told him that what he was about to -say must not be said. He fixed his gaze on the young man’s face with all -his inner power concentrated in his eyes, trying to compel his -attention. Ørlygur was looking at Snebiorg; Ormarr saw him hesitate. -This seemed further proof that there was something which must be -averted. At last Ormarr caught his eye, and Ørlygur bowed his head. - -Then Ormarr turned and left the grave. It was a sign for the gathering -to disperse. - -But the thought which had checked Ørlygur when he met his -foster-father’s gaze was the remembrance of his having been found -sleeping that morning at his vigil by the dead. With that in his mind, -and with that look fixed on his face, he _could_ not say what he had -planned. It was impossible. - -He stood staring down into the grave. - -Those present thought only that the boy was too deeply moved to say the -words of affectionate farewell he would have uttered. And all, even the -men who had come up to fill in the grave, moved away and left him to -himself. - -He seemed as if turned to stone. - -“Too late,” he thought. “And now—what am I to do? Is all to go on as -before? That cannot be—I at least am no longer the same....” - -And with a sigh he thought of _how_ he had changed not for the better, -but for the worse. He was a coward. - -And, looking down into the grave, he spoke aloud: - -“I am growing less and less worthy to be called your son.” - -And to himself he continued: - -“Why do you not help me? Why do you not stand by me when you see me so -weak? Or is it your will that I should not be aided in this?” - -Suddenly he remembered how his father on his death-bed had blessed his -union with Snebiorg, and a wave of joy flowed through his heart. - -“Father—father!” he cried, with tears in his voice. “Is that your will? -But what of my promise?...” - -His joy turned to grief at the thought. And so, at issue with himself, -he stood looking down into the grave. - -The priest came up. - -“What does he want now, I wonder?” thought Ørlygur, watching the -approaching figure with indifferent eyes. The whole air and bearing of -this well-fed, self-satisfied priest were intolerable to him. It was -worst of all when he spoke, with dead words and traditional phrases that -meant nothing. - -The priest came up to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“My young friend,” he began—he was fifteen years older than Ørlygur -himself—“I can well understand how you must feel the loss of such a -father—a man of rare virtue in this wicked world. Yet it should be a -consolation to you to know that he died at peace with God.” - -Ørlygur looked at him, thinking still. Here was this man pouring out a -stream of words over him. It was horrible to hear. “God” in his mouth -sounded worse than devil. - -“We should all remember,” the priest went on, “that however much we may -grieve at losing the dear departed, there is comfort in the thought that -they are beyond the power of evil—that death is but the gateway to the -Kingdom of Glory. And to these two especially, death must have come as a -blessed deliverance.” - -Ørlygur looked at him without speaking. “He thinks he is much wiser than -I,” was his thought. - -“The burial of the dead,” went on the priest, “should really be an -occasion for rejoicing. In any case, the dominant feeling in the hearts -of the bereaved should be one of joy at the thought that those who have -left us have passed to their true home. And be sure that God looks with -more approval on such a thought than on any outburst of uncontrolled -grief, which is really nothing but selfish sorrow for the loss we have -sustained through His will, and rebellion against His decrees. All is -according to the will of God, and we should cheerfully and gladly bow to -His divine pleasure.” - -Ørlygur let the priest run on. “He is a fool,” he thought. “He means -well, no doubt, but is none the less a fool. This is one of his stock -prescriptions for cases where some formal consolation has to be -delivered. He is a sort of spiritual quack. When a man loses his father, -he pours out a dose from a bottle—a big bottle, but containing only a -very ordinary mixture. As a student of the human heart, he is ignorant -to a degree. He cannot imagine that a mourner standing by a grave should -have any other feeling than that of loss. He sees it merely as an -ordinary case, calling for the usual nostrums. And he talks of a wounded -heart as if it were inflammation of the lungs. What does he know of the -range of feeling in a human heart?” - -The priest went on in the same tone as before. Ørlygur said nothing. - -“He wants me to say something,” thought Ørlygur. “But what am I to say? -Tell him it is a fine day? I wonder if he would go away if I did? I wish -I could get rid of him somehow; he tires me. I would rather climb a -mountain than listen to more of this. Look at Borgarfjall there, lofty -and steep. I would sooner climb it to the top than listen to this priest -for half a day.” - -Suddenly he turned to the man, with a smile, and said: - -“Look here, I’ve thought of something. Some day, when I have time, I -want to climb up to the top of Borgarfjall there and build a bit of a -monument on the top. It’s a fine-looking mountain, but I don’t like the -outline of the top. Ought to have something there—don’t you think?” - -The priest stared at him, dumb with astonishment. - -“I hardly think any but a bird could get up there,” he said -hesitatingly. - -“Well, it’s certainly no place for silly sheep,” retorted Ørlygur, with -a laugh. “Good-day to you.” - -And he turned and walked away. - -The priest stood looking after him in perplexity. - -“Now, was that intentional rudeness,” he said to himself, “or has he -lost his senses?” - -It was some minutes before he could sufficiently regain his priestly -dignity and composure to leave the churchyard. - -The men came to fill in the grave, and the mourners flocked round to lay -their wreaths on the mound that covered the remains of Guest the -One-eyed and the Danish Lady. - -Among them were Ormarr and his wife Runa. Snebiorg and her mother were -also there, but there was no sign of Ørlygur to be seen. He had met the -doctor, a man whom he liked, and was walking with him a little distance -off. - -Ormarr and Runa went up to the widow from Bolli and her daughter, and -greeted them kindly, thanking them for their attendance. They talked for -a little of indifferent matters, and then Ormarr said suddenly to the -widow: - -“I should like to have a word with you alone.” - -Snebiorg blushed, and remained shyly standing beside Runa, while Ormarr -and her mother went off a little way. The widow’s face revealed nothing -of her feelings, but in her heart she was keenly aware that what was -coming concerned her daughter’s happiness and her own peace of mind. - -“Ørlygur seems strange today,” she thought to herself. “I hope nothing -is wrong.” And she strove to repress a sigh. - -As soon as they were out of hearing of the others, Ormarr spoke. - -“I do not know if you are aware of it,” he said, “but Ørlygur and Bagga -love each other. I have only known it myself a few days.” - -The widow nodded, and Ormarr went on: - -“I only wished to tell you that my wife and I heartily approve of their -marrying.” - -The widow’s face brightened; the wrinkles seemed smoothed away. Unable -to speak, she offered Ormarr a trembling hand. Ormarr grasped it -cordially, and then, putting his arm through hers, they walked up and -down together. - -“I may be frank with you,” Ormarr went on. “We have known each other for -a long time now, and I am sure you will not be hasty. First of all, I -must tell you that Runa and I were opposed to the idea to begin with. We -should never have attempted to stand in the way of his own wishes, but -we hoped he would give up his intention of marrying Snebiorg. But my -brother, whom we have buried today, gave his blessing to the union, and -from that moment I felt that my own reasons for opposing it had only -been poor and of minor importance. And now that I have told you this, I -can come to what I chiefly wanted to say. Something has happened to -Ørlygur; what it is I do not know, for he has not confided in me or in -any one else. He is hardly likely to open his heart to any one on the -subject, I think. But I have an idea as to what is passing in his mind, -and I am anxious about him. Even if he should appear to have changed his -mind with regard to Bagga, I want you to do your utmost to encourage her -and keep her faithful to him, for I know that in his heart he loves her, -and will always do so. But there is something on his mind at present; he -is in doubt about something; more, I cannot say. You know he comes of an -impulsive race, and if he should now, while he is young, lose control of -his feelings and cease to take a healthy interest in life, then the -family will die out. It would be a pity. I know that you have suffered, -and more than most. I also have known suffering, and I should be proud -if I could say I had borne my trials as well as you have yours. If, -therefore, your daughter inherits her mother’s courage and strength, it -would be a good thing for the race. As yet I am not quite clear what we -ought to do. But I wished to let you know my feelings, so that I might -have you on my side. The interests of—our children, I had nearly -said—are at stake. I always regard Ørlygur as my own son. And it will be -a hard struggle, for neither of them, certainly not Ørlygur, must ever -realize that we are taking any part.” - -The widow was calmer now. She looked earnestly at Ormarr’s face, as if -seeking to read his mind. Then she offered her hand. It was not -trembling now. - -“You can trust me,” she said. “I do not know what it is that troubles -Ørlygur, and I do not wish to know. It is enough for me if he continues -to feel as he does for Bagga. But if he should desert her, it would kill -her. And if he kills my daughter, then, as surely as there is a God in -heaven, I will kill him!” - -Ormarr started violently. “Woman!” he cried, “God forgive you!” - -“I would not have said it—it slipped out,” she went on apologetically. -“Such words must seem strange in the mouth of an old woman. But I could -not help it. You need have no fear of me; I shall do as you wish. You -can trust me as long as I can feel that you are acting honestly. You are -now, and I believe you will continue so.” - -Ormarr smiled. - -“If I did not know it to be otherwise, I might think you were my -sister,” he said. Then, speaking more seriously, he continued: - -“I should have preferred that you did not come back with us to Borg -today. But there are a number of others coming, and after we have stood -here talking so long it would perhaps excite remark if you were not to -come. Anyhow, to prevent any danger to our plans, it would be best to -keep Ørlygur and Bagga from coming together, at any rate by -themselves—if it can be done quietly.” - -The widow nodded. - -They walked back to the grave, where Runa and Snebiorg were waiting. -Several others now approached, and the widow and her daughter were -formally invited to accompany the party home to Borg. - -Horses were then saddled, and they moved off, most of those remaining -taking the road to Borg. - -Meantime, Ørlygur had left the doctor and was riding on alone. He was -deep in thought, and allowed his horse to pick its own way at its own -pace. All respected his reserve, and he was left in peace. - -The doctor had joined the party with Ormarr. The widow and her daughter -rode immediately in front, and Ormarr noted how the doctor’s eyes dwelt -on the girl. It appeared, from something the doctor let fall in -conversation, that he was again in need of a housekeeper. - -Ormarr was struck by a sudden idea, but shook his head a moment after. - -“No,” he thought; “it would be too dangerous.” - -The doctor was a widower, childless, and lived alone at the trading -station, keeping only a girl to look after the house. And many stories -were current as to the doctor and his housekeepers. Most of them left -after a short time in the house, some of them going out of the country -altogether, after which nothing was heard of them. It was also said that -he drank in secret, and some believed him to be out of his mind. In any -case, it was not a place for a respectable girl. - -Ormarr was thinking hard as he rode along. - -“She ought to stand the test,” he muttered to himself. “And who -knows—perhaps it might be the very thing. A chance that might not come -again....” - -He found a pretext for entering into conversation with the doctor, and, -slackening his pace by imperceptible degrees, managed to fall behind -with him, in rear of the party. - -It was not long before he had elicited from the doctor the confession -that his latest housekeeper had indeed left him. - -Ormarr laughed. “You’ve had quite a number of housekeepers these last -few years.” - -“Yes,” answered the other. “It is more and more difficult to find a -respectable woman, and what I am to do now, I do not know. Do without, I -suppose.” - -“I hope it is not as bad as all that,” said Ormarr. “The work is not so -very hard, I take it, and there are generally plenty of girls willing -enough to take an easy post. I have an idea, by the way, that the widow -there would like her daughter to go out into the world a little; if you -like, I could speak to her about it.” - -The doctor was profuse in his thanks. - -Then they changed the subject, and, whipping up their horses, rejoined -the rest. - -Later in the day Ormarr spoke to the widow. - -“The doctor is in want of a housekeeper,” he said. “What do you -think?—would Snebiorg like to undertake the work?” - -The widow looked at him searchingly. - -“Bagga—housekeeper at the doctor’s?” she said harshly. “Never! Never as -long as I live!” - -“Why not?” asked Ormarr quietly. - -“You know well enough what is said about him.” - -“True,” Ormarr returned. “I know his weakness where women are concerned, -but I have never heard of his ever having gone to extremes. He is too -soft and good-natured for that—certainly, he is no rogue. I do not think -there is anything to fear. And you can, of course, rely on your daughter -herself.” - -The widow was silent a moment. - -“I suppose I must do as you wish,” she said at length. “But I shall hold -you responsible if any harm comes of it.” - -“I can understand that you do not quite like the idea. But Ørlygur is on -friendly terms with the doctor, and always looks in there whenever he -goes in to the station. And if the knowledge that the woman he loves is -in the doctor’s house, and the doctor’s own advances, do not spur him to -act on his own behalf, then the case must be worse than I had thought. I -do not think there is any risk, really.” - -The widow sighed. She did not quite like the idea of Bagga being made -use of in this fashion, and perhaps exposed to danger. But Ormarr -reassured her. - -“With God’s help, all will go well,” she said at last, and gave her -consent. - -Ormarr had no difficulty in arranging details, and it was settled that -Bagga should take over her duties in the doctor’s house next day. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -The widow and her daughter rode home that evening in silence. Each was -occupied with her own thoughts, and would not have found it easy to -share them with the other. - -The horses knew their way, and, despite the darkness, the journey was -accomplished rapidly and without mishap. The animals seemed to know that -the quicker they went, the sooner they would be able to rest. - -Mother and daughter exchanged only a few trivial remarks as they -unsaddled and turned the horses loose. They did not even trouble to -light up, but went straight to bed. - -They had lain in silence for some time, when Bagga’s voice came suddenly -out of the dark: - -“Mother, why must I leave home?” - -The widow was at a loss for an answer, and, to escape the question, -pretended to be asleep. - -Bagga fell to weeping softly. It seemed all so senseless and cruel—why -should she leave home when she had no wish to go? Who could say if these -strangers with whom she was to live would be kind to her or not? It hurt -her to leave home at all—but her mother willed it so. - -Worse than this was the thought that Ørlygur seemed changed. There was -something in his look and manner which told her she was not the same in -his eyes that she had been when last they had met—when he had given her -the lamb. Her conscience had been uneasy on that day of the funeral—it -was the funeral of her good friend, Guest the One-eyed; and yet she had -been glad, thinking only that she would be sure to see Ørlygur again. -She had hoped, too, that he would speak to her—perhaps even take her -hand. But he had only given her a hasty greeting, and his handshake had -been disappointing. She had been careful herself to leave without -bidding him farewell; she could not bear to take his hand again in that -strange way. Was it because there were others present that he had been -so strange? Or had he ceased to love her? If he could only know how she -suffered, for all her brave attempts to seem unconcerned, then surely he -would at least have given her one such look as that which had drawn them -together at the first. But perhaps it was only sorrow at his bereavement -that had made him look so unlike himself; perhaps next time they met all -would be well again. Oh, it was wrong of her to be bitter and think the -worst; God might well punish her for that. And she had sinned in going -to the funeral with any other thought than that of mourning the loss of -Guest the One-eyed. - -So Bagga argued with herself, and made up her mind at last that if she -bore her trials bravely, then God might again be merciful and grant her -again the joy of feeling that she and Ørlygur were united in heart. - -She ceased to weep. Her pure and innocent heart had found consolation in -her simple thoughts. All would surely be well again. And as her mind -dwelt on the remembrance of her lover, she ceased to see him as he had -been today, and saw only Ørlygur as she had known him—the picture she -had treasured in her heart. - -At last all conscious thought faded away; she only saw him—saw his face, -his figure; the smile that had made her so happy, and the look in his -eyes that she loved. They went with her into dreams, and daylight found -her with a serene and happy smile. And when her mother came to wake her, -there was such quiet and innocent peace in the girl’s face that the old -woman’s anxious look changed to a tearful smile as she whispered to -herself: - -“Surely she can come to no harm. The Lord would never let her suffer.” - -And, dressing quietly, lest she should wake her, the widow stole out to -her work. - -On waking, Bagga noticed at once that her mother was already up. She got -out of bed herself, and, without making any attempt to dress, sat down -on the bed to think. Today she was to leave home. At first she half -hoped it was all a dream, but in a moment she realized that it was the -sad truth. And the question which had risen to her mind the night before -came to her now again: Why should she go? Hitherto, her mother had never -said anything about her going away from home; on the contrary, she had -always felt that her mother would have been sorry to lose her. And then -to decide on this so suddenly.... There must be some reason for it -all—something they had not told her. She was to go as housekeeper to the -doctor, a man she had never liked. From her first sight of him she had -felt an instinctive aversion to him. His looks, his friendly advances, -repelled her. But if her mother thought it best, that must be enough. -And if her mother did not wish to tell her the reason for so thinking, -there was no more to be said. - -She would not ask. - -Going out, she found her mother had just finished making the coffee. -They talked with some restraint; it seemed awkward even to talk of -little everyday things now. The widow was evidently distressed herself, -and Bagga was on the verge of tears. From her manner, the mother judged -that Bagga had determined not to ask the reason of her being sent away -from home. This was as well, since it saved her the necessity of -answering awkward questions; but, on the other hand, it puzzled her to -think why her daughter should have refrained from asking. - -The few necessary preparations for the journey were soon made, and a man -came up to the house with the horse Bagga was to ride. - -It was noticeable that at parting the widow carefully impressed upon her -daughter not to hesitate in telling her all that happened—to let her -know at once, if need be. - -“It will be lonely here when you have gone, child,” she said. - -Bagga burst into tears, but strove bravely to recover herself. The two -women embraced, and the widow walked beside the horse until they came to -the stream. Here they stopped, and bade each other farewell tenderly. - -“God be with you,” said the mother earnestly. “Trust in Him, and keep -yourself pure in soul and body. And, should it please Him to call me to -Himself, remember that there is one beside myself who loves you.” - -Bagga blushed at her words, and warm joy filled her heart. Then, with a -parting kiss, she touched her horse and rode across the stream. - -The widow stood for some minutes waving to her. And when Bagga turned to -look once more, before passing over the last ridge of hills that would -shut out the sight of her home, her mother stood there still, a grey, -forsaken figure on the autumn landscape. The sight went to her heart. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -Ørlygur had left the churchyard with a smile on his face after his -unfriendly remark to the priest about Borgarfjall and silly sheep. But -the smile soon vanished. - -“That was childish of me,” he reflected. “Whatever made me say it, I -wonder? And now I suppose I shall have to scramble up there one day, and -very likely break my neck. No need to do it really, of course. But, -then, that would be rather mean again. I seem to be getting that way of -late.” - -Suddenly he perceived the doctor standing before him. - -“Two and two are four,” said the latter, with a gleam of kindly mischief -in his eyes. - -Ørlygur looked up at him uncomprehendingly. - -“Don’t be offended,” said the doctor. “But really, you know, any one -could see that a man walking about with such a scowl on his face was not -sorrowing for the dead. Looks much more as if he were busy with some -mathematical problem or other.” - -Ørlygur tried to smile. - -“How would you like to make the ascent of Borgarfjall?” he asked -jestingly. - -The doctor looked out over the valley, measuring distances with his eye. - -“Shouldn’t care about it, to tell the truth,” he answered. “But if I had -to, well, I should provide myself with a bottle of whisky, and empty it. -Then, when the ground began to move a bit, I should just wait till the -part where I stood—or lay—came uppermost, and the top of Borgarfjall -under; it would be easy enough to just give a heave and roll down to it. -Otherwise, I think I should wait till after death.” - -“But you don’t believe in any life after death,” said Ørlygur, smiling. - -The doctor’s manner changed abruptly. “I don’t know,” he said seriously. -“Don’t know what I do believe.” Then, returning to his former -mischievous tone, he went on: “Anyhow, I fancy whisky is a freethinker. -And I sometimes feel the spirit moving me.” - -Ørlygur was smiling no longer. “What is it like to get drunk?” he asked. - -The doctor looked at him searchingly, then laughed aloud. - -“Well, it makes you somewhat foolhardy as a rule,” he said. “And -light-hearted, light-headed, and all the rest of it. Afterwards, it’s -apt to be the other way—heavy, you know, especially about the head. -You’ve a charming frankness, by the way, young man, when it comes to -asking delicate questions.” - -“Why should I not?” said Ørlygur quickly. “Would you prefer me to -pretend I didn’t know you drank?” - -The doctor was somewhat taken aback. “No,” he said; “I shouldn’t. Your -straightforwardness is one of your best qualities. You don’t care for -whisky, I know. But come over one day and get drunk on it—it will -probably save you, at any rate for some time, from any risk of going -that way yourself.” - -“I didn’t feel any wish to try,” said Ørlygur. “It just occurred to me, -that was all.” - -They walked up and down in silence, Ørlygur looking straight before him, -the doctor watching him covertly the while. - -“Most likely a woman,” he thought to himself. “In trouble of some sort, -that’s clear. And—funny thing, now I come to think of it, we’ve never -heard anything about his being taken with any one up till now. Anyhow, -why he should be troubled about anything in that line, I can’t make out. -She must be a fool who wouldn’t have him and gladly. Hearts are a -nuisance.” - -He murmured the last words half aloud, and sighed. - -Ørlygur glanced at him. “What is it?” he asked. - -“Eh? Only my heart, I said. It’s the whisky’s done it, you know. And I -was thinking of the time when I hadn’t yet given it the chance to get in -and spoil things.” - -The doctor looked him fixedly in the eyes. Ørlygur stopped, met his -gaze, then both lowered their eyes and walked on. After a little, the -doctor spoke again, looking straight ahead of him. - -“You’re one of the few people I ever trouble to think of,” he said. -“Because I have an idea that you’ve some sort of friendly feeling for -me. Heaven only knows why you should. Consequently, the least I can do -for you is—not to warn you, but just to point out to you the rocks that -upset my little voyage; then you can go round or steer headlong into -them, just as you please.” - -He changed suddenly to a lighter tone. “I’m no hand at serious talk. And -you’re looking just now as if you’d just entered Holy orders. I think -I’ll go and find some one more amusing to talk to.” - -He offered his hand, and the grip he gave belied his words. Ørlygur -understood that the other had gone in order to leave him to himself. And -he was grateful. - -For a while he walked about by himself. Then, noticing that the others -were saddling up, he found his horse, and rode with the party, but in -silence, keeping to himself. He noticed the priest among the party, and -fancied he marked an unfriendly look in his face. But it did not trouble -him. On reaching home, he let his horse go loose, and wandered about by -himself, leaving Ormarr and Runa to entertain their guests. - -All that afternoon he wandered restlessly about, either keeping to -himself or going from group to group, exchanging brief remarks -occasionally with some, answering others with a word or so, often -without being properly aware of what had been said. All saw that he was -troubled and distrait. - -He saw that Bagga was among the guests, but she was not alone, and he -made no attempt to speak to her. And yet, time and again when he lost -sight of her for a moment, he could not rest till he had found her -again. It was a consolation to look at her, to see that she was there. - -When the widow and her daughter rode away, Ørlygur took care to be at -hand when the horses were saddled. He hoped Bagga would come up and -speak to him. But she pretended not to notice him, though he was sure -she must have seen him. - -At that, his misery overcame him, and he went to bed without saying -good-night to any one. But he could not sleep. He heard the others come -up to bed, and could hear their regular breathing through the thin -partition between the rooms. The idea of sleep irritated him. What was -sleep?—a giving up of the mind to nothingness. A thing unworthy of human -beings. Surely it was the outcome of indifference, idleness, an evil -habit that had grown through generations—a kind of hereditary vice. - -He lay long restless, letting his thoughts come and go. - -Then he became aware of a strange sound somewhere in the house. -Music—somewhere a melody seemed filtering through the air, calling his -thoughts back from their wanderings. - -It must be Ormarr playing. Ørlygur dressed softly and stole out of the -room. As he neared the door of the room where he had watched the night -before with the dead, the sound grew clearer—it was there Ormarr had -chosen to play. - -He stood still and listened. - -He did not know the melody, but its indescribable softness and -melancholy soothed his mind. If Ormarr were playing for his own -consolation, he was also comforting another and bringing peace to a -troubled heart. Ørlygur listened, letting the music work upon his mind. -And gradually he forgot himself entirely; that which had been himself -disappeared, and there was something else—there was life, a precious -thing. It was worth living for, only to feel this enthralment of the -moment; to realize this harmonious blending of joy and sorrow, of life -and death blending, as it were, into a golden mist, and melting into -eternity. - -The last notes died away. Ørlygur crept back to his room, and slept. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -When Ørlygur awoke next morning he felt ill at ease. The sense of mental -balance he had gained from the music of the night before seemed far off, -and he had difficulty in recalling it. - -But at the same time the feeling of utter despair that he had felt, -especially after his vain attempt to speak at the graveside, had left -him. - -“Strange,” he murmured. “But the promise—it seems now as if it no longer -existed, after I failed to utter it then.” - -And he smiled bitterly. - -“Was I really so weak?” he thought. - -He dressed and went out. The sky was overcast, and the landscape, now -deprived of the brightness of the sun, looked dead and gloomy, as if -waiting only for the white wrappings of the snow to sink into the long -frozen sleep of winter. - -For the first time, Ørlygur felt the approach of winter as something -threatening and to be feared. And involuntarily his thoughts turned to -the spring that lay beyond. His heart beat fast as he pictured to -himself the joy that comes with spring—the joy of seeing green things -spring up out of the earth, the poor little blossoms of the rocky hills, -the flight of white and many-coloured butterflies, the light nights, and -the clear, smooth water of lakes set free from their murky covering of -ice. He longed for the spring to come, and longed to share his joy in it -with another. - -His love for Bagga welled up in him like a spring torrent triumphant -over the grip of winter, carrying all before it. It was this feeling -which had been slumbering beneath his faint-hearted thoughts, and now it -rose and swept all else from his mind. - -“Why did I not speak to her yesterday?” he asked himself, in bitter -self-reproach. “Why did I not go to her when she stood there weeping by -the grave? What madness was it that made me greet her as if she had been -a stranger? And she saw it—saw I was changed, and that was why she would -not bid me farewell. If only I have not hurt her beyond healing! How can -I ever explain—how can I tell her of this mysterious power that has -overwhelmed me until now? She would not understand it all—and if I do -not tell her all, she will see that I am keeping something back. It may -be that I have ruined everything—that she can never love me now. How -could I ever dream of carrying on my father’s work? It was an impulse -sent from hell, and changeable and weak as I am, I let it take -possession of me. I, who am so little able to control myself that I -answered with boyish rudeness when the priest spoke to me—he meant well -enough, no doubt. I can see myself that I am but a fool—how much more a -fool should I appear to others if I were to go out attempting to teach -others the way to peace.” - -Again his thoughts turned to Bagga. He was filled with a sudden desire -to go and see her, now, at once. Yet he did not move. Something seemed -to hold him back. - -He hated himself for his irresolution and want of firmness. But there -was something he felt he must do before he sought her; what it was, he -knew not. - -His gaze wandered, as if seeking a solution. And suddenly his eyes -rested on Borgarfjall. - -“That was it!” he said to himself. “I told the priest.... But it was -only in jest....” - -He stood thinking. - -“Perhaps the priest will remind me of it some day. Or tell others—and I -shall be looked on as a braggart. I could never bear it. Bagga might try -to stop me if I made the attempt, but if she heard I had vowed to do it -and drawn back she would never think the same of me again. It would pain -her; she would feel ashamed. And that must never be.” - -He decided to act at once. He would climb Borgarfjall the next day. And -the idea of danger crossed his mind; perhaps he would never see her -again. - -But the mere possibility of this was unendurable—never to see her again. -It was too dreadful to be a possibility at all. No; it could not be but -that he would come back safely to her after all. - -And the more he thought, the more he felt certain of success. Here at -last was something real to grapple with, something material, and he felt -more confident in himself. No more fighting in the dark against thoughts -and fancies, but a trial of physical strength and endurance. - -That it was but a caricature of his former lofty project never once -occurred to him—he would hardly have understood it in that light. His -nature was one that craved real hardships to encounter; he was not of -the stuff to fight with figments of the brain. - -He would do it. He would start tomorrow. And, meanwhile, how was he to -pass the rest of today? - -Suddenly he thought of the doctor. A talk with him would be good -medicine to shake off idle fancies. Yes, he would ride over and see the -doctor. - -And this time he saddled his horse without a trace of hesitation, and -rode off to the trading station. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -The doctor was in unusually good spirits when Ørlygur arrived. - -He had good reason to be pleased with himself; not only had he found a -housekeeper in place of the last, who had left him without notice, but -he had found the most beautiful girl in the parish to succeed her. - -And if ever there was a man who knew how to appreciate good looks in his -housekeeper, it was Jon Hallsson, the doctor. - -Ørlygur was unaware of the direct cause of his friend’s good humour, and -when the doctor invited him to stay and sample the new housekeeper’s -cooking, he accepted without ever dreaming—and without asking—who the -new housekeeper might be. The doctor was always changing his folk, and -Ørlygur was not interested in the subject. - -“If you’ve come to try my whisky, why, you couldn’t have chosen a better -time,” said the doctor gaily. “I’m just in the humour for a bout -today—after dinner, that is.” - -Ørlygur shook his head. - -“I have given up the whisky idea,” he said, with a laugh. “Not only -because I don’t really care for it, but it throws one off one’s balance -too easily. No; I have found something else.” - -“Oh? And what may that be?” - -“Mountaineering.” - -The doctor laughed. “I prefer the whisky,” he said. “It elevates the -mind without moving the body, and the fall is thus less painful.” - -“No need to fall at all,” suggested Ørlygur. - -“If you are still thinking of going up Borgarfjall, I should say there’s -every chance of it,” returned the other. - -“I am,” said Ørlygur. “I am going up tomorrow, to build that cairn.” - -The doctor looked at him. - -“Surely you are not serious?” he said. - -“Indeed, I am,” answered Ørlygur. And with a smile he added: “I want to -get up and look about a little—see something of the world.” - -“If only you don’t find yourself seeing something of another world—one -that your friend the priest seems to know such a lot about.” - -In vain the doctor pointed out the difficulties and dangers of the -project. Ørlygur was accustomed to mountain-climbing, and was obstinate. -He must and would make the ascent. - -“Must,” repeated the doctor. “What nonsense!” - -“It is simply this—if I don’t do it, I shall have made a fool of myself -in the eyes of that priest. I don’t know how you would like that as an -alternative.” - -“Oh, if that’s the case, I’ve nothing more to say. I’d rather drink off -a bottle of sulphuric acid at once than let that fool crow over me.” - -“Well, then, that’s enough,” said Ørlygur. “Let’s talk of something -else. I came over this evening because I wanted livening up a little.” - -“Very nice of you, I’m sure, to credit me with any ability that way. -Suppose we try something to eat for a start.” - -They went into the dining-room and sat down. A moment later the door -from the kitchen was opened, and Snebiorg entered with a soup tureen on -a tray. At sight of Ørlygur she stopped, and hesitated. Then she looked -down and blushed, but came forward and set down the soup on the table. -Ørlygur had risen, but said nothing. All the merriment had vanished from -his face, leaving him serious and astonished. The doctor was looking at -the girl, and did not perceive the change which had come over his guest. - -“My new housekeeper,” he said, still without looking at Ørlygur. “A -beauty, isn’t she? And if my nose doesn’t deceive me, she knows how to -cook.” And he stroked her arm. - -“How dare you touch me!” cried the girl, and, flushing more hotly than -before, she left the room. - -“Ah, a bit stand-offish, it seems,” said the doctor complacently. “But -none the worse for that.” And he turned towards his guest. - -He caught but one glimpse of Ørlygur’s furious face; next moment a -violent blow under the jaw sent him headlong to the floor. - -He rose slowly, staring in profound astonishment, felt himself as if to -ascertain what damage had been done, and then appeared perfectly calm -once more. - -“Good thing I was sitting down,” he said, with a touch of humour. “Not -so far to fall, anyway. Handy with your fists, young man, I must say. -Well, no reason to let the soup get cold. So you’re taken with her, -too—why, so much the better, then we’re agreed. And seeing we’ve no -difference of opinion on that head, I can’t see why you find it -necessary to knock me down. I’m not a fighting man myself—very nice to -watch, of course, when you’re not in it yourself, but otherwise.... Why -couldn’t you tell me how matters stood? Your girl, not to be touched, -and so on. Much nicer, you know, between friends, than landing out -suddenly like that. Anyhow, I don’t mind admitting that the—er—hint was -direct enough. Enough for me, at any rate. Peaceable character, you -know, and not as young as I used to be. I’m not particularly scrupulous -as to rights of property in that sort of goods generally, but seeing -it’s you, and we’re friends in a way—no more to be said. And since -you’re determined on breaking your neck tomorrow, I daresay you’ll -forgive me for hoping you may succeed. If I were in your place, I’d let -a dozen priests think and say what they pleased, as long as I kept the -girl, rather than go ramping off trying to cut out eagles and all the -fowls of the air by clambering up to places never meant to be reached -without wings—unless she asked you to, of course. If she asked me, I’d -do it ten times over and reckon it cheap at that. I suppose it’s a -secret, though, or your respected foster-father would hardly have -arranged for his daughter-in-law to come here as housekeeper. Her mother -wouldn’t have let her, I know.” - -“Snebiorg and I are engaged,” answered Ørlygur calmly. “It is a secret, -that is true, known only to ourselves, and now, of course, to you....” -Ørlygur was surprised to find himself lying with such ease. “But I hope -you will keep it to yourself now you do know.” - -“My dear fellow”—the doctor stroked his chin reflectively—“_you_’ve no -call to be anxious—not in the least. I’m not likely to gossip about a -thing like that. But, Lord, if you knew how sincerely I hope you may -break your neck tomorrow.” - -“I shan’t bear you any grudge for that,” answered Ørlygur, in the same -light tone. “But I’m very much afraid you’ll be disappointed. I never -felt fitter in my life.” - -“I’ve no doubt as to your fitness,” answered the doctor, “after the -practical illustration you gave me just now. But as to getting up -there—as long as there’s no sign of wings sprouting out from your -shoulder-blades, I would suggest that you’re a fool to try it, all the -same.” - -Ørlygur shook his head. - -“Well, well, it’s your own affair.” - -They had finished dinner, and as they rose from the table, Ørlygur, -according to custom, offered his hand to his host. The doctor grasped it -heartily. - -“Excuse me a moment,” he said, and went out into the kitchen, closing -the door behind him. - -Snebiorg was in the kitchen; she had not appeared in the dining-room -after the soup. - -“I want to ask your pardon,” he said frankly. “I promise you it shall -not occur again. Until this moment I had no idea that you were a friend -of Ørlygur à Borg. He is a good friend of mine, and I hope you also will -regard me as a friend.” - -Snebiorg looked at him at first with some distrust; she had never liked -the man. But there was a certain shyness in his manner now, and a kindly -tenderness in his eyes, altogether different from his former attitude -towards her. And she could not but feel he was sincere. - -She made no answer, but he noticed the altered look in her face, and, -greatly relieved, he went back to Ørlygur and led him to the -sitting-room. - -“I’ve been out to beg pardon,” he said, offering a box of cigars. -“She’ll be as safe here with me now as with her mother. And if you think -it’s only because you knocked me down just now, you’re wrong.” - -Ørlygur looked at him doubtfully. - -“I know what you’re thinking of,” the doctor went on. “My promise -wouldn’t count for much when I’ve been drinking, eh? But there’s just a -bit of my heart that the whisky hasn’t altogether spoiled as yet.” - -He glanced up at a large picture of his dead wife on the wall. There -were other portraits of her about the room. And his eyes were moist. - -Ørlygur was moved, and held out his hand. - -Then the whisky was brought out, but Ørlygur declined; the doctor poured -out a glass for himself. They sat for a while in silence, each busy with -his own thoughts. - -Ørlygur could not get over his astonishment at meeting Snebiorg in the -doctor’s house, and in particular at the news that it was Ormarr who had -arranged for her to come. It troubled him, also, that her mother had -been willing to let her come at all. - -Suddenly an idea occurred to him—here, perhaps, was the solution of it -all. - -“Trying to make me jealous—that must be it. And not a bad idea. If I had -any doubt in my own mind before, this has certainly made an end.” - -He glanced at his host, wondering whether he, too, was in the plot. The -doctor seemed to perceive that he was being scrutinized. - -“Ørlygur,” he said, in a strangely quiet voice, “I wonder what ever made -you care about me at all? I’ve had a feeling ever since I’ve known you -that you had a sort of liking for me. But, how you ever could, I can’t -imagine.” - -Ørlygur looked at him a moment, and then glanced away. - -“If you want to know,” he said, “it’s not for any one reason in -particular, but several. To begin with, you’re alway the same to rich -and poor.... Indeed, I’ve heard that you often treat poor people for -nothing, and give them medicines into the bargain.” - -“That’s nothing,” said the doctor, waving his hand carelessly. - -“And, then, you stay in a poor place like this, instead of finding -somewhere where you could make a better position.” - -“Mere selfishness on my part,” said the doctor. “My wife lived here; it -was here I met her—here we lived for the one short year we had -together.... Yes, I daresay it may seem almost blasphemous for me to -talk like that, seeing what every one knows about my life generally. But -it’s true, all the same. That’s why I stay on here.” - -Ørlygur sat looking straight before him. “It’s just those trifles—and -that one thing you call selfishness that made me like you,” he said -softly. - -Both were silent. Then the doctor reached out for his glass, and emptied -it. And, without appearing to address Ørlygur directly, he went on: - -“Sitting here by myself, I often think how queerly fate weaves her -threads. Something’s happening every moment—things happening that matter -to some one or other. Only, I’m outside it all; just sit here and look -on. Like the carcase of a fly that the spider Life has left hung up in a -corner of the web.” - -He poured out a fresh glass, and laughed. - -“Sit here drinking whisky and never move. Never get any farther. I won’t -say my life’s been worse than many others in the way of troubles. I may -feel so at times, but it’s just weakness on my part. Here I have a -comfortable room to sit in, an arm-chair, and something to drink. And -there’s many that are out in the cold. Possibly I may be as lonely and -unhappy as they. But at least I can live in something like material -comfort. I’m not starving, for instance. Altogether, I must be a poor -sort of fellow not to be more content than I am, and go steady, instead -of sinking deeper and deeper into drink. Sometimes I’ve thought of -committing suicide. But when I go over the pros and cons, it seems -better to go on living. I don’t expect death to bring me anything -better. And I suppose I’m doing a certain amount of good while I’m -alive. Though, on the other hand, I do some harm. Heaven knows why—my -nature, I suppose.” - -He looked up suddenly. - -“Getting dark,” he said. - -Twilight had fallen; already it was hard to distinguish objects in the -room. The two men saw each other’s faces only as pale spots in the dark. -The doctor rose to light the lamp. - -Ørlygur rose also. - -“Don’t trouble. I’m going home now,” he said. “I shall have to be up -early tomorrow.” - -The doctor followed him out to his horse, that was loose in the -enclosure. Ørlygur saddled up, and took his leave; there was a curious, -thoughtful expression on his face. A moment after, he dismounted again, -and, handing the reins to the doctor, who was waiting to see him ride -off, he went into the kitchen, where a light was burning. - -He closed the door after him as he entered, and looked into Bagga’s -eyes, that were red and swollen with tears. - -“How did you come here?” he asked in a low voice. - -“I don’t know,” answered Bagga calmly. “Mother said I was to come. And I -would not disobey her.” - -“I have told the doctor we are engaged,” he said, in the same low tones. - -She nodded, as if agreeing it was the natural thing to do. - -Then Ørlygur’s heart was filled with an endless joy, and a proud yet -gentle smile lit his face. He opened his arms and drew her to him. For a -moment they stood there, held close in each other’s arms. Then Ørlygur -looked into her eyes and said: - -“I am going up to the top of Borgarfjall, to build a cairn there. And -then I shall come and fetch you.” - -She nodded again, with the same expression of quiet understanding. Then -their lips met in a long kiss. Ørlygur felt his head grow dizzy, and it -was not till he found himself galloping away on his horse that he -recovered. - -“If I fail tomorrow,” he thought to himself, “I am a scoundrel. But I -must build that cairn.” - -And after a while he murmured half aloud, with an air almost of -disappointment: - -“She didn’t seem in the least impressed—took it as if it were nothing at -all.” - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -Jon Hallsson was standing deep in thought when Ørlygur dashed out of the -kitchen, snatched the reins out of his hands, and galloped off without a -word or look in farewell. - -“He’s in a hurry to go off and break his neck,” he thought, and added: -“I wonder he doesn’t give up that mad idea. With a girl like that....” - -Then he went indoors, hoping that he might remain undisturbed that -night. - -When Jon Hallsson had settled down to drink in the evening, he did not -like to be called out. But his drinking had never interfered with his -work; some people even went so far as to say that they would rather have -him slightly drunk than perfectly sober. Strangely enough, despite his -weakness in respect of drink and women, he had never lost the respect of -those about him. He was a clever doctor, and kind to the poor; he talked -straight out, like a man—at times a little too much so. And so people -liked him. After all, it was no concern of theirs how he lived or what -he made of his life. There was only one man who detested him, and that -was the priest. But the latter was not so popular among his flock that -he could venture to give vent to his feelings beyond an occasional -remark. - -Jon Hallsson was from another part of the country, but had held his -present post for fifteen years. When he had first come to the place, he -had been unmarried, and the district at Hofsfjordur was regarded as -merely a stepping-stone to a better. He was looked on by his colleagues -as a man who would certainly rise in his profession. - -Shortly after his arrival, he had married a beautiful young girl, the -daughter of a farmer in the neighbourhood. She died in childbirth within -the year, and the child immediately after. - -The blow had crushed him utterly, leaving only a shadow of his former -self. He filled the house with pictures of his dead wife, and dwelt on -them, clinging to memories as a stricken bird to its nest. But his -physical cravings would not be denied. And he was not strong enough to -master them. Little by little he gave way, and though at times he -realized that he was sinking, he had not power to check himself. Other -young men in his profession rose beyond him, while he grew more and more -hopeless of ever advancing at all. He was like a pebble in the river of -life; once it had come to a stop, the stream flowed over and past it, -wearing away every projecting corner that could give a hold, until -gradually it became surrounded by other stones, and the way for further -progress was blocked and it sank down to insignificance in the lowest of -the mass. - -Jon Hallsson lit the lamp and sat down to drink. He could hear Snebiorg -busy in the dining-room, and in a little while she came in to tell him -that his tea was ready. - -“Thanks,” he said, and did not move. As she went to the door, he added: -“You need not wait to clear away the things. Go to bed when you like. -Good-night.” - -For a long time he sat in silence. Then, as was his way when he had been -drinking for some time, he began talking to himself. It was as if the -silence became unendurable. - -“Nonni,” he said, using the pet name by which his wife had always called -him—“Nonni, my boy, it’s time for bed. Getting late, and the lamp will -want filling soon. And you don’t like sitting in the dark, do you? And -the oil’s down in the cellar, and you’d go headlong to the bottom if you -tried them. Much as you can do to stand on your legs now. But there’s a -candle....” - -He emptied his glass and filled it again. - -“My friend, you drink like a fish. Drink a lot too much. No earthly need -for that last glass. Too much whisky ’s a bad thing anyway. And there’s -no need to empty the bottle each time. There’s a deal left now, but if -I’m not mistaken you’ll finish it before you turn in tonight. And then, -my boy, you will be drunk. And do all sorts of mad things. But kindly -remember—the door where that girl sleeps is not to be touched. Not even -touch the handle. No.” - -He rose with difficulty and took down a large photograph of his wife. - -“Best to do it now,” he said. “While you’ve some sense left. There’s a -hammer in the surgery.” - -He stumbled out of the room, and nailed up the picture of his wife on -the door at the foot of the stairs that led to Snebiorg’s room. - -“Ragna,” he said, “keep guard over that door for me, will you? You know -what I am when I’ve had too much. Do all sorts of mad things. But -mustn’t go up there. Not up there—no. You guard the door, Ragna. Yes.” - -Then he stumbled back to his arm-chair and his glass. - -“There you are, my boy; now you can carry on for a bit. Couldn’t get to -sleep now anyhow. Not eleven yet. And there’s lots of things to think of -yet.” - -He took a long drink and laughed. - -“Fount of youth—serves up the same old thoughts as if they were new. -Night after night—chewing the cud of old thoughts. Nonni, my boy, you’re -a ruminating animal. Sad, isn’t it? Well, what does it matter? Heaps of -people do the same. Chew the cud of their sorrows and joys, and their -trifles, and their love—yes, ha ha, love, of course. Nice word for -something else.... There, now you’re being a beast. And if you are, you -needn’t make out all the world’s the same. You knew something about love -yourself, once ... blubbering, Nonni—whisky going to your eyes, what? -Dry up, do; it won’t make things any better. Can’t stand one -bottle—you’re getting out of form. Well, well, here’s the last glass for -tonight. Not too much soda this time—stiff one to make you sleep. Only -think, if one could drop off to sleep and out of it all. Well, well, -that’ll come too before long, never fear. Nuisance that you can’t take a -light with you when you go. Nasty to wake up in the dark when you’re -dead. What nonsense—you don’t wake up when you’re dead.... Anyhow, it’s -nothing to be afraid of, Nonni, my boy. Well, off we go—walk steady, -now. Those stairs ... but we weren’t going up those stairs.... And why -not, I should like to know? Fine girl there waiting ... and the other -young fool, he’ll break his neck ... finest girl I’ve set eyes on for -many a long day.” - -He staggered from the room, and out to the staircase door, where his -wife’s picture hung. - -“What the—good Lord, it’s Ragna! I’m sorry, Ragna—first time you’ve.... -Oh, I remember now. Well, well, there’s no going that way. No, I -shouldn’t have ... no.... Good-night, Ragna.” - -He turned towards his own room next to the surgery. “That’s right, -Nonni, boy—that’s the way. Leave the girl alone. Heart? Never mind your -heart—nothing to do with the heart really, you know. Not that sort of -thing.... This way, boy. That’s right.” - -He went into his own room, and stumbled into bed. For a long time he lay -awake, muttering to himself. At last, when the candle had burnt down and -the room was in darkness, he gradually lapsed into sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -It was still dark next morning when Ørlygur rose, dressed, and silently -stole out from the house. He took with him a thirty-foot rope that he -had procured the day before, and some food. Then, taking the well-known -path up to the mountains, he set off through the darkness. - -His dog went with him. - -Ørlygur was perfectly calm, without a thought for the perilous nature of -his undertaking. He was thinking that he would first have to reach the -highest ledge, and get a proper view of the peak, before he could see -how to manage the rest. - -All he had to do for the present was to husband his strength both -physically and mentally, so as to have plenty in reserve for the final -and most difficult part. He was a good walker; if only he kept his wind -and did not strain himself, he would be fit enough after a short rest -for the last climb to the summit. - -He walked on steadily, and by daybreak he had reached the third ridge. -He told himself that he had been going quite slowly; a child could have -walked as far in the time. He could safely try a little faster now, and -get as far as possible in the cool of the morning. Without hastening his -step, he lengthened his stride a little. As he ascended, the ridges came -closer and closer in succession, and he had reached the seventh when he -felt the first rays of the sun. For a moment he rested, watching the -sunrise. Only three more ridges now, and he would be at the base of the -peak. - -He glanced at the village below. Here and there he could distinguish -people afoot; tiny figures they seemed, viewed from where he stood. The -valley was still in shadow, and all its colours, except that of the -ruddy heather, seemed dull and vague. Even the surface of the water was -grey, in places almost leaden in hue. - -He waited only a little while and then resumed his steady climb. At -length the stone buttress of the peak rose directly before him, standing -up sheer in places, at others with a slight slope. - -He walked along the foot. It was no easy ascent, that was clear. The -vertical rifts in the massive rock offered no pathway up, and the -horizontal clefts and ledges were far apart, with a distance of some ten -to twenty feet between. - -After some time spent in examining the face of the rock he was still as -far as ever from perceiving any practicable way. He came to a -standstill, with his eyes fixed vacantly on the rock before him. - -“Anyhow, it has to be done,” he muttered. - -And, pulling himself together, he shook off the feeling of despair that -was threatening. He found a sunny spot where there was a clear trickle -of water, and lay down in the heather. - -“First something to eat, then a rest, and then another look round,” he -thought to himself. “I can surely find a way up there somehow.” And, -taking out the food he had brought with him, he began to eat. - -He was perfectly calm. They would not be anxious about him at home, even -if he were not back till late at night. He had stated beforehand that he -believed some sheep had strayed far up on to the topmost plateau, and -must look for them; all knew that it would be a lengthy business to get -a couple of obstinate sheep down from the top of the mountain, so they -would not expect him back early. - -He ate his food without haste, and then lay resting for half an hour, -thinking of anything but the business in hand. Then, perceiving that he -was beginning to feel drowsy, he sprang up resolutely and walked briskly -round the face of the rock. - -“You and I have a little matter to settle between us,” he said gaily, -nodding up at the wall of stone. - -He found he could walk round on three sides; the fourth, that towards -the northward, was too steep, and the loose sand there rendered it still -more difficult to find any foothold. To try there would mean going down -rather than up. The rock here sloped down from the top of the peak to -about half-way down the side; Ørlygur had thought of coming down that -way, but he realized that in places the angle was too abrupt; he would -inevitably lose his footing and go crashing down. It was this which had -led him to take a rope, thinking it might be of some assistance here. -Twice he walked round the three sides of the rock. But there was no -cleft anywhere that went right to the top. Already he felt his courage -failing, and, fearing to lose it altogether, he boldly commenced -climbing up the cleft which seemed to lead farthest up. - -Before starting, however, he coiled the rope round him so as to be -easily got at if required. Then he began scrambling up the narrow cleft. -It was a difficult path, at times the cleft seemed to vanish altogether; -in other places it widened out so that it was impossible to keep his -footing on both sides at once. - -The dog, finding it could no longer follow, began howling pitifully. -Ørlygur scolded the animal impatiently, but only succeeded in making -matters worse; the dog ran backwards and forwards along the base, trying -to find some way up. But all its efforts were in vain, and at last it -returned to the bottom of the cleft up which Ørlygur had started, and -lay there, nose in air, and howling miserably, only desisting now and -again to look up at its master with sorrowful eyes. - -Ørlygur made but slow progress in the ascent. Still, it was better than -he had thought. But more than once, after passing some particularly -awkward spot, he reflected that he would never be able to get down -without the aid of the rope. - -He was unwilling to think of what he would do if the cleft now suddenly -came to an end; the thought occurred to him constantly, but he thrust it -aside, and went on steadily. But he knew it could not be for long. - -Where the cleft was more than usually narrow, he set his back against -one side, and hands and feet against the other, carefully hoisting -himself up and making sure of his hold with one foot and hand before -moving the other. Where it was wider, or almost disappeared, he clung -tightly to the side, testing the rocky points that jutted out before -trusting his weight to them. At times he had but just time to get a grip -with his hands, when his foothold gave way. Then, clinging tightly with -his fingers, he had to feel about with his feet for a rest before -shifting his grip. Inch by inch, by the exercise of all his strength and -all his will, he climbed on, until at last he reached a ledge that -allowed him a much-needed rest. He looked down at the way he had come, -but the sight made him dizzy, and he hastily averted his eyes. It seemed -incredible that he should have come up there; from where he was, the -rock seemed to fall away inwards beneath him. He determined not to look -back again; he felt that if he did so he would never reach the top. He -turned instead to a scrutiny of the way before him. - -A cold sweat broke out on him as he realized that the cleft he had been -climbing ran but some ten or twelve feet more, making perhaps a sixth -part of the height. - -But the ledge, he remembered, continued to the left, in a series of -jutting crags, until it reached another vertical cleft running right to -the top. One thing was clear: it would be impossible to pass along the -ledge with the rope coiled round his body; the path was far too narrow, -and if the rope should catch on any projecting point he would be thrown -off his balance. - -Another thing was borne in upon him now—that to think overmuch about the -task before him was more dangerous than all else. Without more ado, he -loosened the rope and let one end fall, fastening the other carefully to -the rock on which he was seated. - -Where it was possible to get along the ledge, it would surely be -possible to come back the same way, he thought. It was only in the -actual descent that the difficulties were greater. And if he came to any -point that was absolutely impassable, he could always give it up and -return—“Perhaps,” he added, with emphasis. - -Little by little he made his way along the ledge, depending at times -upon the grip of his hands alone, with his body entirely unsupported. -First a firm grip with the one hand and then a careful search with the -other for a fresh hold. All his thoughts were concentrated upon his -hands and their hold. When at length he had reached the flat rock that -he had been making for, he found himself exhausted for the moment. He -closed his eyes, and allowed his whole body to relax for a brief -respite. - -It gave him some relief; when he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he -had slept. Once more he recommenced his perilous way, creeping carefully -and with every nerve strained, to the next projecting rock. This brought -him to the commencement of the upward cleft he had in mind. The first -part was an easy slope, and could be managed well enough; higher up, -however, it grew steeper. Ørlygur realized that, even if he succeeded in -getting up, it would be almost impossible to get down again. For a -moment he considered whether it would not be better after all to go back -for the rope, but he gave up the idea at once. The passage along the -ledge was one he felt he had not strength now to repeat. And with the -rope round his body it would mean almost certain disaster to attempt it. -Losing no time in further reflection, he started up the cleft. - -At first all went well. Then came a stretch of smooth rock rising -straight up on either side. The slightest false move here would be -fatal, and there were some ten or twelve feet of it to be covered. How -he managed it, he never quite knew, and from this point onwards he moved -unconsciously, knowing nothing of his own progress until he found -himself lying, exhausted and breathless, at the summit. His clothes were -torn, his hands bleeding and bruised, and there was a cut on one knee. -The keen mountain air refreshed him, and he lay quietly drinking it in -before rising to his feet. He remembered now how he had been on the -point of slipping at that last stretch of smooth rock, and, nerved by -fear, had made a superhuman effort. It had been muscle acting without -brain, for his mind had been a blank at the time. But it was done now. -After that terrible moment, the last part of the way had been easier, -and he had not stopped to think. - -After resting for a little, he went to the edge and peered over. Now -that he was here, he felt no sensation of dizziness as when he had -looked down before. But it was evident beyond doubt that it would be -certain death to attempt to descend by the way he had come. - -Still, here he was. And down he must get somehow. - -He was terribly thirsty, and looked around for water. After some -searching he found a tiny spring, clear and cold as ice. A little moss -grew round about it, in beautifully varying shades of green. He lay down -and drank, rested and drank again, till his thirst was quenched and he -felt himself refreshed. Then he rose. - -“And now for that monument!” he cried gaily. - -He had only his bare hands to work with, and they were bruised and sore, -but there was no lack of material at hand; rocks of all sorts and sizes -lay strewn about. He chose, first of all, a big flat stone as a -foundation, looking first to see that its position was such as to render -the cairn visible from the valley below, and set to work building up -carefully with suitable pieces. After a couple of hours’ work, the thing -was done—a compact pile of stone, tapering from a broad base evenly -towards the top. On this he placed a large flat stone spreading out like -the brim of a hat, and above it a smaller one again. - -When the work was finished, he patted the stone with his hand, and -laughed. - -“There you are,” he said. “Now, see and stay there as long as you can, -for I doubt if any one will come to set you up again if you fall.” - -Then, putting on his jacket, which he had laid aside for the work, he -commenced to walk round the little platform which formed the summit of -the peak. On three sides the rock fell away sheer; on the fourth was a -steep slope of loose sand mixed with a soft kind of rock. Here and there -were hard projections of lava and stone. To miss one’s foothold there -would mean rolling down, with the first stop some eight hundred feet -below. And, likely as not, the rolling would develop into a series of -bouncing leaps, breaking every bone in one’s body. - -Ørlygur noted half-absently that it was no use trying to get down on -this side. Then he sat down and gazed out over the valley below. The -land merged into the horizon on all sides save the north-east, where the -sea showed a leaden-grey surface, broken in places by white-topped -breakers. To the south were snow-capped hills, that seemed more like -part of the sky than earth, their glittering surface seeming out of -keeping with the dark hues of the lower land. A bank of fog came gliding -in from the sea, clear of the bottom of the valley and not touching the -mountain heights, making a weird effect. Ørlygur found himself suddenly -looking down from clear air into a sea of fog two hundred feet below, -that hid the valley from view. He looked down the mountain-side. It -seemed far less formidable now that the fog obscured the greater part. -And he rose with a sudden impulse to try the descent now while it was -less dangerous. - -“How stupid,” he said to himself a moment later. “Of course, it is -dangerous as ever. Still, I must try it. No use trying to go down the -way I came up; it would be no better than jumping off the edge. The -sandy slope on the other side is my only chance; I must try to get off -it as soon as I can find a ledge, and take my chance of slipping before -I strike one.” - -He took off his shoes and stockings, and removed his coat. At first he -thought of throwing them over on the side where he had come up, but on -second thoughts he refrained. To look over there now might make him -nervous. He left his things lying where they were. - -“The stones will be rough, with bare feet,” he reflected. “But if I get -back safely....” - -Carefully he surveyed the slope, and marked out his path. Then, lying -flat down, he thrust his feet over the edge. For a fraction of a second -he paused, and then the struggle commenced. To seek for secure foothold -was hopeless; the only thing was to make the most of such resistance as -the stones offered, and prevent himself from going down too fast. His -eyes could only see where to place his hand; his feet must be left to -feel their way. Every movement had to be made swiftly, and yet with the -utmost care, and, above all, without losing coolness and self-control. - -The actual distance to the first ledge was not great; it was not more -than five minutes from starting when he glanced to the side and found -himself level with it. But it seemed like ages. A little below him, and -slightly to one side, a point of lava jutted out. Possibly it might be -loose and give way at a touch; anyhow, it was all that offered, and -there was no time to waste. Already he could fancy himself gliding past -the ledge, and then.... - -Before he could recall his mind from this dangerous channel, his body -had done all that was needed; he found himself grasping what proved to -be the point of a large rock. Feeling it would hold, he drew himself up -and threw one arm round it. This steadied him, and gave him a chance to -rest. A few feet to one side was the ledge and safety. But to reach it -across the few intervening feet of loose ground seemed an impossibility. -If he slipped but an inch or two beyond, it would be hopeless to try and -work up again; he would go sliding down with but little chance of -stopping himself. - -Just then he heard his dog barking, but paid little heed. - -No, there was nothing for it now but to make the attempt. But there -seemed little hope of success. - -The danger in no way unnerved him; on the contrary, the confronting of -actual difficulty seemed to allure him. He would try—and then.... - -He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer. It was the first time he had -done so throughout the undertaking. But the imminent peril of death -compelled him, and his lips stammered out the old words. It was the -age-old acknowledgment of the powers above—a tribute to darkness and the -unknown. He uttered the words earnestly, but it was none the less -something of a formality. He was prepared to die; it was only to loosen -the last tie that bound him.... - -Before his prayer was ended, he was recalled to the present in startling -wise. - -“Hullo, there you are! Hung up nicely, by the look of you.” - -Ørlygur opened his eyes in astonishment. Jon Hallsson was there, on the -ledge, in his shirt-sleeves, carrying a bag in his hand. The sweat -poured down his face, which was flushed with unwonted exertion; he was -so exhausted that he could hardly speak. - -“Looks as though the best thing I can do’s to go down again, and wait -for you at the bottom of your beastly mountain. Though I’m not likely to -be much use to you when you get there. Wish you were safely over here, -don’t you? Well, so do I, but how to get you there’s another thing.” - -“You’ve come in the nick of time,” cried Ørlygur merrily. All thought of -death or danger seemed to have vanished. “But how did you find your way -up?” - -“I’ve been keeping an eye on the place—ever since this morning, watching -through a telescope. First time I spied something moving on the top, I -thought it must be an eagle. I hoped all along you’d have more sense. -But when I saw the eagle building castles—sacrificial altars—on the -topmost heights of pig-headed obstinacy, I took it that by some miracle -or other you’d got here after all. So I packed up some tools and -bandages and things, and came out to deal with a fine crop of fractures. -But there’s neither god nor devil would persuade me to come crawling out -to where you are now.” - -“Don’t want you to, I’m sure. Does any one know you’ve come up here at -all?” - -“No sense in telling them that I could see. At least, not till I’d made -sure whether you were mincemeat or not.” - -“Have you a knife with you?” - -“Sir—you insult me. Didn’t I tell you I’d come out here prepared for -operations generally?” - -“Well, I wish you’d content yourself meantime with amputating an end of -that rope I left hanging down near where the dog is. About twenty feet. -Then, if you’ll make one end fast where you are, and throw me the other, -you’ll have me safe and sound on the ledge beside you in a moment. Not -that I’m in any hurry to get away from here, really—it’s quite a -comfortable place to rest a bit. But I’ve just discovered that I’m -desperately hungry, and there’s still some food left in my bag.” - -“Don’t talk nonsense,” retorted the doctor. “Rope, you say? I can’t get -it without climbing up that silly place, and I’m not an acrobat.” - -“Well, then, slip down to Borg and fetch another.” - -“Slip, indeed—very kind of you,” snapped the doctor. And, followed by a -merry laugh from Ørlygur, he turned back towards the cleft where the -rope had been left, muttering curses on all foolhardy boys and this -present escapade in particular. - -A little later he returned with the rope in his hand. He seemed even -more angry than when he had started. - -“Risking my neck for your mad pranks,” he grumbled. “I had to scramble -up the rocks to cut it high enough—I hope you may hang yourself with it -some day. Nearly got hung up myself. And came down with a run, and gave -myself a most abominable bump at the end of it.” - -He did not say where he was hurt, but when he fancied Ørlygur was not -looking he rubbed himself tenderly behind. - -It was but a moment’s work to make the rope fast, throw out one end to -Ørlygur, and draw him slowly in on to the ledge. - -“There! And now, where’s the damage?” asked the doctor impatiently, by -way of welcome. - -“No damage up to now, thanks. But if you feel put out about it, I’ll let -you take off one leg at the knee for your trouble.” - -They made their way back to the rock where Ørlygur had left his bag. The -dog had not moved from the spot, and at sight of its master sprang -towards him, greeting him with delight, and continued gambolling around, -evidently overjoyed at finding him again. - -While Ørlygur was eating, the doctor stared up at the rock and the rest -of the rope hanging from the rock above. After a time he asked: - -“The cleft seems to end there. I suppose you just flew the rest of the -way?” - -Ørlygur explained how he had made his way round the ledge. “It’s easy -enough,” he declared. “You could drive a caravan round.” - -“But why on earth did you leave the rope behind?” - -“Oh, I thought it would be more fun to get along hanging by my arms, -with the rest of me in mid-air. Neater, you understand.” - -“I see. You’re pleased to make a jest of your own infernal -wickedness—for it’s wicked, nothing less, to play the fool with life and -death like that.” - -But Ørlygur only laughed and went on with his meal. The doctor continued -his study of the rock, as if imagining himself making the ascent, and -shuddered. Then, abandoning his ill-humoured tone, he turned to Ørlygur -with tears in his eyes. - -“Oh, you young fool!” he said. “Can nothing content you but roads that -were meant for the eagles?” - -“I’m going another road tomorrow,” said Ørlygur, with a laugh. - -The doctor looked at him doubtfully. - -“Well, don’t count on me this time,” he said. “I’ll not go dangling at -your heels with an ambulance train every time you’ve a fancy to risk -your neck.” - -“There’s not much risk this time—not in that way, at least. I’m only -going over to the station to carry off your housekeeper.” - -“And that’s what I get for my pains—not to speak of subsequent -complications,” grunted the doctor. It was cool up there in his -shirt-sleeves, and a recent bump made it uncomfortable for him to sit -down. But there was a note of relief in his voice as he spoke. - -As soon as Ørlygur had finished eating, they started on their way down. -It was sunshine the first part of the way, but a little farther down -they found themselves enveloped in a bank of clammy fog. At a distance, -Ørlygur’s dog was magnified to the size of a calf, and well-known rocks -became distorted and unrecognizable. Nevertheless, they found no -difficulty in making their way down. The path was always just visible, -and Ørlygur knew the track so well that he could have followed it -blindfold. As they went on, the fog became thicker; the doctor’s horse -was nowhere to be seen. They searched for some time without success; -they could hardly see an arm’s length ahead. The saddle had been left -beside the track, and this they discovered, but the horse was gone. - -“We’ve always some horses in the paddock at home at this time of year,” -said Ørlygur. “You can take one of ours. I’ll find yours tomorrow.” - -On arriving at Borg, Ørlygur at once caught one of the horses wandering -loose, and put on the doctor’s saddle. - -“You’ll come indoors and have a cup of coffee before you go on?” he said -to the doctor. - -“Thanks, I won’t say no. And perhaps a drop of something stronger -wouldn’t be amiss. But catch a couple more horses while you’re about -it.” - -“What for?” - -The doctor turned his head away, and answered a trifle sadly: - -“No need to put off that business you were speaking of till tomorrow, is -there?” - -Ørlygur looked at him without a word. - -“Besides, you’d be company for me on the way home. I don’t feel like -wandering about alone in this fog.” - -Ørlygur set off at once after two more horses, and tied up the three in -readiness. Then the two men went indoors, and Ørlygur ordered coffee. - -After a while Ormarr came in. - -“What brings you here, doctor?” he asked. - -Jon Hallsson made no reply, but glanced at Ørlygur. Ormarr followed his -glance. - -“And where have you been, Ørlygur?” he asked, noticing the boy’s hands -and clothing. - -“I’d better go and change, I think,” said Ørlygur awkwardly—“I’ve been -up Borgarfjall,” he added. “Up to the top.” And he rose to his feet. - -Ormarr looked from one to the other in astonishment. - -“Up Borgarfjall! And you, too, doctor?” - -“No,” answered the doctor, with emphasis. “No climbing to the top of -Borgarfjall for me, thank you.” - -Ormarr turned to Ørlygur with a questioning look. - -“What were you doing up there?” - -“I thought a sort of monument would look nice on top.” - -“Sort of monument!...” Ormarr shook his head. “But the top—the peak—it’s -more than any man could do to get there!” - -“Exactly,” said Ørlygur. - -Ormarr and the doctor burst out laughing, in which Ørlygur joined. Then -hurriedly he made his escape. - -When he had left the room, Ormarr turned to the doctor. - -“What does it all mean?” he asked. - -“My dear Ormarr Ørlygsson, don’t ask me. I have to thank you, by the -way, for finding me a most excellent housekeeper.” - -“Oh,” answered Ormarr, somewhat at a loss, “I just happened to know....” - -“You just happened to know my little weakness,” put in the doctor -angrily. - -Both men were silent for a moment. Then the doctor burst out laughing. - -“Never been so done in all my life,” he said in an injured tone. - -“I’m very sorry,” said Ormarr. “But it was the only way I could see -to....” - -“Oh, never mind. Most happy to reciprocate, if needed, and all that. But -where am I to get another now?” - -Ormarr’s face lit up with a sudden gleam of pleasure. He was about to -speak, when the doctor interrupted him. - -“Yes, she is,” he said sharply. “It’s all settled. I’ve played my little -part. And Ørlygur’s going off now to fetch her.” - -Ormarr rose, laughing, and held out his hand. - -“My dear doctor, let me congratulate you.” - -“Me!” snapped the other. - -“Yes, you. A most rapid and satisfactory cure. If I can help you to find -another housekeeper....” - -“Thank you, I won’t trouble you.” - -The doctor grasped Ormarr’s hand cordially. “I’m just as pleased with -the result as you can be, really,” he said, with frank sincerity. -“Ørlygur and I are rather friends, you know. But he is a headstrong -young fool, all the same. You ought to go and look at that place where -he went up.” - -“Then you were with him?” - -“Not at the time—no. But from something he let fall last night, and -seeing something moving up there today, I had an idea, and went up to -see what he was doing.” - -“What’s all this about a monument?” - -“I don’t know. But I fancy he wanted to relieve his feelings in some -way—by doing something out of the ordinary, you understand.” - -Ormarr seemed to be thinking hard. Then he looked up. - -“What makes you think so?” he asked. - -“It’s only an idea of mine. He is young, and full of energy.... But, of -course, I may be wrong.” - -“I fancy you are right,” said Ormarr. “More so, perhaps, than you -imagine.” - -There was a pause. Ormarr was the first to speak. - -“Look here,” he said. “Let Ørlygur ride over now and fetch the girl, and -you stay here for tonight. We have not seen much of each other up to -now, but you have been a good friend to my son—my foster-son, that is. -There are several things we two old fellows could find to talk about. -Besides, you must be tired.” - -The doctor accepted the invitation, and when Ørlygur was ready to start, -Ormarr went up to him. - -“You will bring her home here, of course. But I think you ought to go -round by Bolli, and bring her mother as well.” - -Ørlygur answered with a grateful glance and a nod. And no more was said. - - * * * * * - -Ormarr Ørlygsson and Jon Hallsson sat long talking together. Each sat by -a window, watching the little streams of moisture that trickled down the -panes. - -The doctor seemed weary and in low spirits. - -“I’m tired of life myself,” he said. “Have been for years now. And yet I -potter about trying to keep others alive, when I daresay they’re just as -tired of it as I am. Doesn’t seem much sense in it anyway.” - -Ormarr shook his head. - -“Life is a precious thing,” he said. “And often we don’t realize it -until it is too late. Then we fall to musing dismally about it, instead -of using our experience for the good of others—for those who are to come -after us. We say to ourselves: I have suffered; so will they. Well, why -not? Let them look after themselves. But why have we suffered? Because -we are narrow-minded and ungrateful. Surely we have known some glorious -moments; how can we complain of life after? Life is a round of ceaseless -change, day and night, sunshine and rain; we ourselves pass from the -unknown to the unknown again ... and that is why a moment of harmony we -call happiness is a wondrous thing—a thing that can never be paid for -throughout all eternity.” - -“You may be right,” said the doctor. “I feel myself an ungrateful -creature at this moment.” - -“I have only felt that harmony myself at moments when I was able to -forget myself entirely in my music,” Ormarr went on. “And then it was -really only a complete forgetfulness of all that was passing around me. -How much greater must be the happiness of those who _meet_ in harmony; -two human beings sharing happiness! For them it is the rising of a sun -that nothing can darken but the grave.” - -The doctor bowed his head. - -“And then?” he said. “When the grave had taken one of them?” - -“Would you wish you had never known the happiness that has given you the -greatest sorrow of your life?” - -The doctor shook his head. “No! Not if it cost me all eternity in -torture.” - -“Have you ever thought of it before?” - -“No,” said the doctor. “But I see what you mean. And you are right. It -simply comes to this: that we should be grateful for life—grateful and -happy for having been allowed to live.” - -Ormarr nodded. “Happy and grateful—yes. And humble, too.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -Ørlygur and Bagga rode quietly through the mist over the hills from the -station to Bolli. There was no need for haste. They rode side by side, -keeping close together, holding each other’s hands in a clasp that -seemed as if it were never to end. - -They spoke but little. Each felt, in absence, that there was so much to -say. But, on the surface, they were yet as strangers to each other in -this, that it was not easy to speak of little trivial things. There was -so much that they had not yet known; and their minds were full of a -silent, happy longing and anticipation. - -Yet they rode there together in the mist, as if it were but natural that -they should—as if they already belonged to each other—were already one -heart and one soul. - -The mist that wrapped them seemed a light and kindly thing. - -They did not think how life had played with them but a few hours back, -like pawns in a game, or how the mist of the present hour was but a -pause while life determined what the next move should be. They rode side -by side, holding each other’s hand. And neither felt the vaguest glimmer -of doubt as to the other’s will—the other’s love. Both felt that nothing -in life could part them now. And the thought of death was far away. - -They rode together over the hills, two grey figures in the mist. But -there was sunshine in their souls. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUEST THE ONE-EYED*** - - -******* This file should be named 62455-0.txt or 62455-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/2/4/5/62455 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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- margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - h4.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 100%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - hr.pgx { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pgx" title="">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Guest the One-Eyed, by Gunnar Gunnarsson, -Translated by W. J. Alexander (William John Alexander) Worster</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Guest the One-Eyed</p> -<p>Author: Gunnar Gunnarsson</p> -<p>Release Date: June 23, 2020 [eBook #62455]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUEST THE ONE-EYED***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4 class="pgx" title="">E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing, ellinora,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/guestoneeyed00gunniala"> - https://archive.org/details/guestoneeyed00gunniala</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> - -<div class='section ph1'> - -<div class='lg-container-r c001'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>GUEST THE</div> - <div class='line'>ONE-EYED</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='large'><em>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</em></span></div> - <div class='c002'>THE SWORN BROTHERS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>A tale of the early days of Iceland by -the most noted of living Icelandic novelists. -“To read it is like being struck in -the face on a sultry day with a breeze -fresh from the glaciated mountains of the -Viking North.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—<cite>The Bookman.</cite></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>“Gunnarsson has made his characters so -genuine, so red-blooded and so masculine -that they stand out like living men.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—<cite>News-Tribune, Detroit.</cite></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><em>NEW YORK: ALFRED A. KNOPF</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c005'>GUEST THE ONE-EYED</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF</div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>GUNNAR GUNNARSSON</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>BY W. W. WORSTER</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>NEW YORK</div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>ALFRED · A · KNOPF</span></div> - <div>1922</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY GUNNAR GUNNARSSON</div> - <div class='c002'>COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY</div> - <div class='c002'><span class='sc'>ALFRED A. KNOPF, Inc.</span></div> - <div class='c006'><span class='small'>[<em>Original title</em>: <span class='sc'><span lang="da" xml:lang="da">Af Borgslægtens Historie</span></span>]</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c006'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='xsmall'><em>Set up and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y.</em></span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='xsmall'><em>Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York, N. Y.</em></span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='xsmall'><em>Bound by the H. Wolff Estate, New York, N. Y.</em></span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div><span class='xsmall'>MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c002' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c007'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr><td class='c008' colspan='2'>BOOK I</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Ormarr Ørlygsson</span></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c008' colspan='2'>BOOK II</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Danish Lady at Hof</span></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c008' colspan='2'>BOOK III</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Guest the One-eyed</span></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c008' colspan='2'>BOOK IV</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Young Eagle</span></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_273'>273</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c007'>BOOK I<br /> <span class='large'>ORMARR ØRLYGSSON</span></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Snow, snow, snow!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Below and above—here, there, and everywhere! -Up to his knees in snow, Pall à Seyru struggled -across the wind-swept heights. The snow whirled down in -great downy flakes, making it impossible to see more than -a few yards ahead. Stooping, with heavy, weary steps, he -tramped on, an empty sack slung across his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had come from the trading station, and was on his -way home to his own hut in the mountains; the store-keeper -had refused to grant him further credit, and in consequence, -he had chosen to return by this lonely track across the hills, -where he was sure of meeting no one on his way. It was -hard to come home at Christmas-time with empty hands to -empty pots and hungry mouths.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His only comfort was the snow. It fell so thickly as to -shut out all around, and seemed to numb even the poor -peasant’s despair within the dismal prison of his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now and again he heard a sound—the whir and cackle of -ptarmigan flying overhead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly a gust of wind sent the snow flying over the -ground. Another—and then gust followed gust, growing -at last to a veritable hurricane, that swept the very snow-clouds -from the sky. And as if by magic, a vast plain of -snow lay open to his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All Hofsfjordur was suddenly visible. Pall turned, and -saw the last of the clouds sweep down into the dark blue-green -of the sea. To the south-east, the peaks of the Hof -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>Mountains rose out of the water, and over the eastern -landscape towered a long range of rocky mountains that -gradually merged into the great south-western plateau. -His eye rested for a moment on the vicarage farm of Hof—a -few straggling buildings clinging to the mountain-side, -among which the black church itself loomed out, right at -the mouth of the fjord. The houses of the trading station -he could not see; they lay beyond, on the northern shore -of the fjord, safely sheltered behind the rocky walls of the -islets that offered such fine harbourage—to any ship that -managed to reach so far.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The parish itself lay between him and the Hof Mountains. -A valley two miles farther up was divided into two narrow -dales by the Borgasfjall, a steep and rocky height. The -rivulets from the two valleys—now but streaks of smooth -ice—met lower down, making part of the valley into a peninsula. -The southern stream was named Hofsa, and its -valley Hofsardalur; the northernmost Borgara, and its valley -Borgardalur; but the rivulets, from their confluence to -the outflow into Hofsfjordur, still went by the name of -Borgara, and the broad valley was called Borgardalur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To the north, on the farther side of a narrow valley, -likewise belonging to the parish, were the faint outlines of -broad, slowly rising hills—the Dark Mountains. The ridge -where Pall now stood was Borgarhals, and ran for a long -way between Borgardalur and Nordurdalen, in the heart of -the mountains, leading to the little glen where his cottage -lay, close to a brook, and not far from the lake. There -were trout in the water there, to be taken by net in summer, -and in winter by fishing with lines through holes in the ice. -Wild geese, swans, and ducks were there in plenty, from -early spring to late autumn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Pall’s thoughts had wandered far from all this, -settling, as did his glance, on a row of stately gables that -rose above a low hill in the centre of the peninsula, formed -by the waters of Borgara and Hofsa.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From three of the chimneys a kindly smoke ascended. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>The storm had abated, and folk were beginning to move -about here and there among the outbuildings round the -large walled farmyard. Already flocks of sheep were on -their way to the winter pasture at the foot of the hills, -where some dwarfed growth was still to be found.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This was Borg, the home of Ørlygur the Rich, as he -was called. It was by no means uncommon for folk to -speak of him as “the King,” for he ruled over scores of -servants, and owned hundreds of cattle and horses and -thousands of sheep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly Pall’s cheeks flushed with a happy thought. -It had crossed his mind that he might call at Borg. All -knew that Ørlygur the Rich never sent a poor man empty -away. But then he realized that today was not the first -time the thought had come to him. No, better to give it -up; he had turned for help to Borg too many times before; -he could not well ask again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With bowed head, and face grey as before, he dragged -himself along the almost impassable track; he was exhausted; -his limbs seemed heavy as if in chains.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From early morning to about ten o’clock, while the storm -raged, the farm hands and servants of Borg gathered in -the women’s hall upstairs. The men had come from their -quarters, and sat about on the beds waiting for the storm -to abate before starting out to their work. The cowman -alone was forced to brave the elements and tend his cattle.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had opened the door to his own room. He sat -with his two-year-old son Ketill on his knees, and talked -quietly with his men, exchanging views, or giving them -advice about the work of the place. He always treated -them as his equals. The men sat with their breakfast-plates -on their knees, eating as they talked. Some of the womenfolk -went to and fro with food or heavy outdoor clothing; -others were darning socks or mending shoes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr, who was nearing his fourteenth year, sat in his -father’s room, on the edge of the bed, facing Ørlygur. It -was in his mind that things were beginning to be like they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>had been before his mother’s death, two years ago. He sat -with his hands on his knees, swinging his legs by way of -accompaniment to his thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Never before had he missed his mother so sorely as this -morning, when every one else seemed to have forgotten her; -never before had he felt her loss so keenly. He sighed, -checked the swinging of his legs, and sat motionless for a -while. Tears rose to his eyes. He felt he must go out, or -he would be crying openly in a minute, and disturb the -comfort of the rest. For a moment he sat pondering where -to go, then he remembered that the cowman would by now -have finished work in the shed, and taking down an old -violin from a rack, he left the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Reaching the cowshed, he sat down in his accustomed -place, on a board between two empty chests, and commenced -tuning his instrument. It was an old thing that -had been in the family for generations, but no one could -remember having heard it played. Then, seven years before, -Ormarr had been taught the rudiments of music by a -wandering fiddler, an adventurous soul, who tramped the -country with his fiddle slung over his shoulder in a calfskin -bag. Since then, Ormarr had given all his spare time -to the music.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His father had marked with grief how this one interest -had gradually swallowed up all else; the boy cared nothing -for the management of the estate, or indeed for any other -work. Possibly it was this which had led Ørlygur, in spite -of the doctor’s advice, to wish for another son. And his -wife had sacrificed her life in giving him what he wished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Hard and self-willed as he was in many ways, Ørlygur -had yet a profound belief in the right of every human being -to determine his own life, to follow his own nature and -develop his gifts as long as it involved no actual harm to -others. And he made no attempt to coerce the boy; Ormarr -had his way.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>About ten o’clock, when the snow had ceased, Ormarr -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>slung his gun across his shoulder and walked off toward -Borgarhals to shoot ptarmigan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On the way, he met Einar à Gili, a troublesome fellow, -who, in defiance of the general feeling, had so little respect -for the uncrowned king of Borg that he had several times -thrashed his son Ormarr without the slightest provocation. -It was the more unpardonable, since Einar was about ten -years older, and strong as a giant. And now, at sight of -him, Ormarr’s fingers fumbled in passionate helplessness at -the trigger of his gun.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Einar hailed him, to all appearance innocent as could -be. “Hey, Ormarr, out shooting? Let’s go together?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had no desire to go out shooting with Einar, -but was curious to know why the other had suggested it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then we can see who’s the best shot.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>This was irresistible. Einar was a proverbially bad shot -with a gun, and Ormarr knew it. He made no protest, and -they went on together.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Every time he fired, Ormarr brought down two or three -birds. Einar got at the most one bird at a shot, and often -sent the birds fluttering away with broken wings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nevertheless, Einar picked up all the birds that fell, and -stuffed them into his own bag. Ormarr demanded his share.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, you’ve no bag, and there’s no sense wasting time -tying your birds together at every shot. Wait till we’ve -done.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had his suspicions, but said nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After a while they came to a good-sized rock, with two -paths round. Ormarr knew that the paths to the south -was the longer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Let’s go round and meet on the other side. I’ll go -this way,” he said, taking the northern path. And Einar -agreed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When they met, neither had any more birds to show.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But you fired, I heard you,” said Einar.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I missed,” said Ormarr shortly. Einar laughed, but -he took no notice.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>“Look, there’s one sitting on that rock,” said Ormarr -suddenly, pointing to a boulder some hundred yards away. -“I’ll take him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No hurry,” said Einar; “I’ll bag that one myself. -We needn’t go on any longer—I’m going home now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How many have we got?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, twenty.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good, then give me mine.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ah, yes—next time we meet! I’m off. My love to the -cattle at home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Somewhat to his disappointment, Ormarr did not seem -to be greatly annoyed, but merely walked off, calling quietly -over his shoulder: “Mind you don’t miss that bird, Mr. -Clever-with-your-gun.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Einar turned round angrily. “Don’t shout like that—you’ll -scare it away. That’s my twenty-first.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“All right. It’s too frightened of you to move. Go and -see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Einar took careful aim—his hand shook a little, but only -because he was inwardly chuckling over the trick he had -played Ormarr, and the thought of telling what he had done. -Though, indeed, he might get little credit for it all; people -were rather apt to side with the lordly folk from Borg. -Still, it was good to have fooled that brat Ormarr again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The bird was sitting close on the rock. Einar fired, and, -raising his gun, saw that the bird was still in the same -position. Seeing no feathers fly, he thought he must have -missed, and loaded again. Then creeping cautiously forward, -he rested his gun on a stone, and fired again. The -ptarmigan did not move. Einar felt sure his shot must -have taken effect. He went right up to it. The bird was -dead enough, but what was more, it was cold. And lifting -it, he saw a piece of paper tied to one of its legs, with a -few words in pencil. “Clever shot, aren’t you? Thanks -for a pleasant day’s sport.—Ormarr.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Curse the little jackanapes!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Einar never told any one after all how he had scored off -Ormarr that day.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>Ormarr hurried along up hill and down, firing and reloading -rapidly, scarcely seeming to take aim at all, but -never missing his bird. His narrow sunburnt face was -flushed with exertion, and drops of perspiration trickled -down from his forehead. His eyes searched eagerly about -for game, and in a very short time he had a bag of twenty-seven. -Then suddenly, coming round the corner of a rock, -he stood face to face with Pall à Seyru. Pall tried to avoid -him, but Ormarr called him back. He sat down, wiped the -perspiration from his face, and smiled as Pall came up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Puh—I’m warm enough, for all it’s fifteen degrees of -frost. You look half frozen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Pall muttered something, and tried to hide his empty -sack, which had the effect of drawing Ormarr’s attention to it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What’s that—going back home with an empty bag? -Won’t Bjarni let you have things any more?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m in debt there already. And I couldn’t promise to -pay before next autumn.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But at Christmas-time—and you’re not a rich man.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That makes but little difference in his books.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ho—who says that—you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“’Twas Bjarni said so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And you had to go and ask him—beg of him—like -that?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Our cow didn’t calve, and we’ve no milk. And there’s -no food in the place beyond.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“H’m. What were you going this way round for? -’Tisn’t any short way home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I didn’t want to meet anyone.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And going back empty-handed? Why didn’t you come -to us?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve been a burden to many this long time—to your -folk more than any. And I’ll not ask for help from the -parish.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Something in the man’s face made Ormarr catch his -breath. The blood left his cheeks, and in a hushed voice -he asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>“You mean—you’d....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Pall nodded. “Yes. There’s times when it seems better -than living on this way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Pall ... here, take these birds—just from me. And -come home and talk to father. You must. He’ll be just -as glad to do anything as you could be for it. As for -Bjarni, he’s a cur. You can tell him so from me next time -you see him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Pall was silenced, and tears rose to his eyes. Ormarr -understood, and said no more. They divided the birds into -two lots, though Ormarr would gladly have carried the -whole, and in silence they started off down the slope.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr slept in a bed next to his father’s. It had been -his mother’s bed. When the light was put out that night, -Ormarr had not yet found courage to tell what he had -been thinking of since his meeting with Pall that day. -Nor did he know what had passed between his father and -Pall.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Half an hour later, perceiving that his father was still -awake, he managed to whisper, softly and unsteadily:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Father!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was as if Ørlygur had been waiting for this. He rose, -and seated himself at the boy’s bedside.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“’Twas well you met Pall this morning, lad. His wife -and two little children were waiting for him to come home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The words gave Ormarr the courage he had lacked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Father, may I give him Blesa? His cow won’t calve -for six weeks, and they’ve no milk.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve promised Pall to send him Skjalda, and a few -loads of hay the first fine day the roads are passable. And -I am going to take little Gudrun to live here—they’ve -enough to do as it is.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr’s heart was full of thankfulness to his father for -his kindness to Pall. But he was shy of speaking; words -might say less than he meant. And there must be no misunderstanding -between his father and himself—this thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>was always in Ormarr’s mind, for he loved his father deeply. -Now in the darkness of the room, he could hardly distinguish -his features, but in his mind’s eye he saw him clearly, -sitting there on the bedside. He knew every line in the -calm, composed face, finely framed in the dark hair and -brown beard. Often he had been told that there was not -a handsomer man to be found than his father. He had the -physique of an athlete, and Ormarr knew his every movement -and attitude. He strove now to breathe all his love -towards the loved figure, vaguely seen in reality, yet clear -as ever to his mind. He felt that his father could not fail -to perceive the mute expression of his loving gratitude.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while both were silent. Then Ørlygur rose, and -smoothing his son’s hair, he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You know, Ormarr, that all I possess will in time belong -to you and your brother. Then you will be able to give -away more than trifles. At present, you have little to use -in charity, but what you have, you may do with as you please. -Remember that it is our duty to help those who are poorer -wherever we can. And when you hear of any one that needs -a helping hand, always come to me. Wealth is not lost by -charity. And now good-night—it is time we were asleep.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went back to his bed, and a moment after, spoke -again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr, you remember how generous your mother -always was. You seem to grow more like her every day. -I think she would have been very happy tonight.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr burst into tears, hiding his face in the pillow -to make no sound. And after a little while, he fell asleep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he awoke next morning, he felt for the first time -since his mother’s death as if she were invisibly present -among them—as a link between his father and himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he was filled with a proud sense of having entered -into a secret covenant with his father; it gave him a feeling -of manhood, of responsibility.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Bjarni Jonsson, the trader, and Daniel Sveisson, -the parish priest,—Sera Daniel, as he was called,—sat -drinking in Bjarni Jonsson’s front parlour. -They were seated by the window, looking out over the fjord.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sun was setting, and the shadow of the house was -flung far out over the smooth sea. The smoke from the chimney -had already reached the rocky haunt of the eider duck. -The cliff was the home of immense flocks of many-coloured -birds, for it was spring, and the breeding season was at its -height. Numbers of gorgeous drakes were swimming round -the rock, and amongst them a few plump and comely eider -duck, taking an hour’s rest from their duties before sunset, -leaving the nest and eggs to the care of the father birds.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel enjoyed the view, for he was looking out over -his property. The eider-duck cliffs, even those farther -out, were by ancient custom regarded as belonging to the -living. And they brought him in a very nice little sum.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He puffed away at his long pipe in silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni noticed his contented air, and was not pleased. -Surely it would be more reasonable that the revenue from -the eider-duck cliffs should come to him, Bjarni, as owner of -the shore lands. But priests were all alike, a greedy lot! -For ages past they had been petted and spoiled with all -sorts of unjust privileges and unreasonable perquisites. And -what did they do for it all? Nothing in the least degree -useful, nor ever had—unless it were something useful to -grow fat themselves in a comfortable cure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Such was Bjarni’s train of thought. And he meant it -all quite earnestly. But he said nothing, for, outwardly, -he and Sera Daniel were the best of friends—drank their -grog together, and played cards in all good fellowship. At -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>the moment, they were only waiting for the doctor to come -and take a hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No, in his inmost heart Bjarni detested the priest; the -portly figure of the man was a continual eyesore to him. -Sera Daniel was a man of imposing presence, there was -dignity and calm authority in his carriage and bearing, and -Bjarni, having no such attributes himself, found herein -further cause for jealousy.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It would be hard to find a less imposing specimen of the -human male than Bjarni Jonsson, trader, of Hofsfjordur. -Outwardly, he resembled more an ill-nourished errand boy -than anything else. His face was grey and angular, the -top of his head was covered with a growth of colourless -hair, and his pale blue eyes were as a rule void of expression, -for the reason that he was in constant fear of -betraying his ever-present jealousy of every one and everything -round him. And the struggle had marked his face, -his eyes, every movement of his puny, stunted body, with -a stamp of servile cunning. His clothes hung about him -like the rags of a scarecrow in the field, the draggled -moustache that hid most of his mouth added to the general -impression of meanness and insincerity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At a first glance, Sera Daniel presented a complete contrast.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His burly, well-fed body seemed to exhale an atmosphere -of cordiality——an ecclesiastical cheerfulness which gave his -whole bearing something of the stamp of the prelate. His -fair hair carefully brushed back from the broad, arched -forehead, the blue, beaming eyes, the frank expression of -his clean-shaven face, which, however, never for a moment -relapsed from the bright, superior, yet mild professional -mask of dignity, of healthy godliness attained through -inward strife and by the grace of Heaven; the placid, yet -telling gestures of his somewhat large, plump hands; the -sonorous voice with its echo of sanctity; and last, not least, -his faultless black attire—in short, his whole outward appearance -seemed to combine human forbearance and lofty -understanding with the rare power of living a full and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>yet exemplary life, kindly chastening himself as well as -others—all the qualities that go to the making of a true -servant of the Lord.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the simple, canny folk among whom he lived, and -from whom he himself was sprung, had not been long in -penetrating beneath these externals. They realized that he -played his part well, and with a suitable mask, which they -tolerated, even respecting him for the same—at any rate, -in his presence, or when young people were about. But -the elders among themselves were not afraid of unmasking -Sera Daniel with a sly wink, as it were, in a manner of -which he would certainly not have approved, nor found -consistent with the respect due to their spiritual guide.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Men played their parts well in the parish of Hofsfjordur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And in the opinion of his parishioners, Sera Daniel was -not the only one who played a part at variance with the -character behind the mask, though Sera Daniel himself -might have believed so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was one family, or more exactly, a single figure, -that did not fit in with the cast of the local comedy. A -keen observer could not have failed to notice that the life of -the community centred round this one man: a dominant figure -among the rest, who knew how to shape their views -according to his will. And he was a source of much annoyance -to the actors proper, more especially those who had -cast themselves for leading rôles. That man was Ørlygur -à Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was in his forty-second year. From early -youth he had been the natural leader among his fellows; -first and foremost, of course, as only son and heir to Borg, -but also by virtue of his personality, which was excellently -suited to bear the rank and wealth and responsibility inherited -from his forebears, who had, as far back as the -memory of man, been the self-appointed and generally respected -leaders of the community.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg, apart from being the greatest landowner -in the district, was also chairman of the local council, and -led the singing in church—in short, all that an Icelander -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>combining wealth with intellect and personality could attain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Moreover—and this was perhaps the corner-stone in the -edifice of his absolute authority—he was a conscientious adviser, -an untiring and disinterested helper of the poor, and -an experienced and successful, albeit unlicensed, veterinary -surgeon. In this last capacity he was consulted not only -by the district, but also by many from other counties, who -were glad of his unfeed advice and skilful aid.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was generally recognized that Ørlygur à Borg was ever -ready to serve and assist any one, however humble, provided -they accepted him as a ruler. He never tolerated any attempt -to place others on a footing of equality with himself, -or any violation of his privileges, however slight. To those -who submitted to his sway, he was a mild and gracious -god; to those who forgot the deference he demanded, he was -a merciless tyrant, swooping down on them in defiance of all -generally accepted notions of justice—though he would forget -and forgive readily enough when it was over.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The peasants did not mind this. To them, Ørlygur à Borg -was a kind of human Providence—no less inevitable, and -probably more pleasant, than the divine. They knew, of -course, that there was a King who ruled over all, including -the King of Borg. But they were nevertheless inclined -to place both on the same level. In the event of conflict -arising, doubtless Ørlygur à Borg would be a match for the -other—even to gaining for himself the armlet of sovereign -power, as Halldor Snorrason had done in the fight with -Harold Hardrada. Ørlygur was equal to that at least.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Their faith in him amounted almost to a religion. They -felt themselves, under his protection, secure and well provided -for.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Some few there were, however, who did not approve -of the unlimited power generally conceded to Ørlygur à -Borg, and disliked what they considered his unjustifiable assumption -of superiority. This spring, there were at least -three such discontented souls within the parish. Two of them -we have met already—Sera Daniel and the trader, drinking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>their grog in the parlour looking over the sea. And the -third of the rebels was the doctor, whom they were expecting -to join them in a hand at cards.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The priest and the trader, when alone together, spoke but -little. They had no interests in common. Their intellectual -sphere was very limited, and both had the same characteristic -of the narrow-minded: concentrating every atom of thought -and will each on his own well-being. Consequently, all talk -between the two was obviously insincere; so much so, that -even these two not very sensitive beings realized the fact, -and instinctively shrank from any intimacy of conversation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On this occasion, as ill-luck would have it, the doctor -kept them waiting longer than usual, and Bjarni, as host, -could not well sit all the time without a word. At last, -by way of saying something, he asked how the wool was -getting on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Dry and packed three days ago,” answered Sera Daniel.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni’s eyes flashed, and a smile flickered for a moment -over his wooden face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel read that smile, and marked the scorn of -it. But as the scorn, he knew, applied no less to the smiler -than to himself he refrained, on principle, from taking -offence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni looked him straight in the face, and their eyes -met. Then suddenly both realized that this innocent and -haphazard attempt at casual conversation had opened up -common ground between them, an unexpected community -of interest where each had only thought to find the -altogether unwished-for company of the other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni did not quite know how to improve the opportunity -at first. He decided on a gambit of innocent -raillery.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, we’re ready to weigh it now, I suppose ... that -is, of course....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel looked searchingly at him, unwilling as yet -to take any definite step himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What are you paying this season?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>“Sixty-five for best white, forty-two for black and -mixed.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel glanced at him with a curious smile. “Is -that—ah—the ordinary price, or what you are paying -Ørlygur à Borg?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The trader’s face flushed violently; the hand holding the -glass trembled a little. Without waiting for an answer, -Sera Daniel made another shot.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Or perhaps you are thinking of paying the same price -to all—for once?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni eyed him awhile in silence. He seemed to be -turning over something in his mind. The priest felt the -glance, and knew what lay behind it, but evinced no discomfiture. -On the contrary, he met the trader’s eyes with -a smile of irritating calm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last Bjarni spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” he said slowly, “if you can let me have your -wool tomorrow morning.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>That same night Ormarr sat on the slope of the hill -looking down to Hofsa—just above the spot where the wool -from Borg was washed every spring. He was keeping -watch over the clip. Large quantities were already dry -and stowed in bags; the grassy slopes were dotted with little -white piles of that which had still to be spread, waiting till -the morning sun had drawn the dew.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silently, filled with emotion, Ormarr gazed at the beauty -and peace of the spring night. The sky was clear and blue, -and bright as day.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Below him flowed the crystal rivulets, and farther off, -above green mountain slopes veiled in the glistening web -of dew, rose stark grey cliffs, furrowed by glimmering -waters, higher up again, the luminous white of the snow -peaks, tinted all the night through with the gold of dancing -sun rays.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From his childhood Ormarr had claimed the privilege of -keeping guard during the spring nights. In the earlier part -of the season, he took his post on the freshly growing pasture -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>lands, keeping the sheep and horses from straying in to -nibble off the first blades of the young grass. Later, when -the sheep were shorn and driven up to the mountains, he -mounted guard over the wool, keeping a keen look-out for -prowling vagabonds, and covering up the heaps with tarpaulin -in case of sudden rain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To him, the vigils of these quiet nights were as hours -of devotion. During the lonely watches, he bared his soul -in worship of the majesty of nature, free of the restraint -he always felt in the presence of others. He drank in the -fresh night air, with its sweetness of spring, like a precious -draught. And at times, the depth of his feeling brought -great tears to his eyes. Alone, he could allow himself to -some extent thus to give way to emotion, yet even then not -without a certain sense of shame.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tonight he was sadder than ever. It would be fine tomorrow, -the last of the wool would dry during the day, -in time to be fetched away before evening.</p> - -<p class='c004'>That meant it was his last night’s watch this spring.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His eyes took leave of the wild duck swimming in the -stream near their nests, that he had cared for and protected; -several times he had waded out to see how they fared. He -looked the hillside up and down, bidding good-bye to the -buttercups and dandelions—every morning he had watched -their opening, a solitary witness, as they unfolded at the -gracious bidding of the sun. He noted, too, the great -clusters of tiny-flowered forget-me-nots that grew everywhere -around.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At five o’clock he rose to go. From one of the chimneys -smoke was already rising, thin and clear as from a censer; -old Ossa had hung the big kettle over the fire for early -coffee. A big plate of new bread would be waiting for him, -with butter, meat, cheese, and a steaming cup of coffee—a -delicious meal.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From force of habit he glanced round before moving off; -counted the chimneys from which smoke was rising, and -looked about for any other signs of life. Then suddenly he -realized that something unusual was going on. With trembling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>hands he adjusted the telescope he always carried, and -looked towards the spot.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A moment later he lowered the glass and stared in bewilderment -towards the fjord. In a flash he realized what -was happening, and set off home at full speed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Heedless of Ossa and the meal she had already waiting -for him, he dashed up to his father’s room, not even stopping, -as was his wont, to caress the fair curly head of tiny Gudrun, -the three-year-old daughter of Pall à Seyru, whom Ørlygur -had adopted. Ormarr loved the child.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He did not stop till he reached his father’s bed. When -Ørlygur opened his eyes, he saw Ormarr standing before him, -very pale, and breathless with his speed. The sight startled -even the King of Borg out of his habitual calm; he sat up -with a start. Realizing instinctively that something was -wrong, he reached out for his clothes at once.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is it, my son?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Father ... Sera Daniel ... carting his wool in already -to the station....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was already getting into his clothes. He stopped -motionless for a second; then a faint smile passed over his -face, and he seemed to be thinking. In less than a minute -he had made up his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The horses!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr did not wait for any further order. He hurried -out of the room, snatched up a bridle, and ran out calling:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Gryla, Køput, Kondut!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Barking and delighted, the farm dogs clustered round him, -and followed him out into the paddock, where he caught -his father’s horse and vaulted into the saddle.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ten minutes later, forty horses were stamping and neighing -ready for work. Swiftly they were brought round, -the pack-saddle put on, and loaded up with the finished -wool.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had overheard his father’s brief, sharp orders to -the foreman, a man he could trust. He had kept close at -hand all the time, listening eagerly to what was said. At -last, when all was ready for the start, he looked up earnestly.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>“Father—may I?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg looked at his son in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You? Nay, lad, I’m afraid that would hardly do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But his voice was not so decided, harsh almost, as it -was wont to be when he refused a request. He even glanced -inquiringly, as it were, at the foreman, who smiled back -merrily in return. That seemed to settle it. Ormarr’s eyes -were bright with anticipation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur laid one hand on his son’s shoulder—not patting -his head or cheek as he generally did—and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good. You can do the talking. You heard what is to -be said and done—you are sure you understand?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr did not give himself time to answer. But his -leap into the saddle was enough; evidently he had grasped -the spirit of his father’s commands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They did not take the usual route to the trading station; -anything moving along that road would be visible from below -for the greater part of the way. And they were to -come unexpectedly. Therefore they took the road across -Borgarhals and Nordurdal, so as to reach the station before -any knew of their coming.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>It was the unwritten law of the district that no wool -should be brought to the station before the King of Borg -had sent in his. The custom dated back further than any could -remember, it was part of the traditional precedence generally -conceded to the masters of Borg. At first, it had sprung -from a natural desire among the people to show their respect -for their chieftain and benefactor. Then, when it had -grown to be a time-honoured custom, the men of Borg had -taken care to have it maintained, regarding any violation -as a personal affront, a challenge—and none had ever known -such challenge to remain unpunished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was, moreover, another custom in connection with -the sales of wool—to wit, that Ørlygur à Borg fixed his own -price for his, while the others who had wool to sell had to be -satisfied with what the trader chose to pay them. Ørlygur -took no heed of ruling market prices, but based his figures -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>on the prices he had to pay during the past year for goods -he himself had bought from the trader.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No one grumbled at the arrangement. Ørlygur always -paid cash for what he ordered, while every one else found -it necessary to take goods on credit; all had an account, -great or small, with Bjarni, and were in consequence dependent -on his good-will. They knew, that in the event of -Bjarni’s good-will failing, there was always Ørlygur, ever -ready to help whoever asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Truth to tell, Bjarni, the trader, was not a little nervous -when Sera Daniel arrived with his wool early in the morning. -He did his best, however, to conceal his uneasiness, but the -false jocularity with which he strove to hide it was belied -by the anxious glances wherewith he scanned every now and -then the road from Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The weighing in was done in the big warehouse. Sera -Daniel was smiling and confident as usual, though his eyes -showed signs of having slept ill the night before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, Sera Daniel,” said Bjarni, who was watching the -weighing with mock earnestness, “this is a bold stroke of -yours indeed.” He glanced hurriedly in the direction of -Borg as he spoke. “Frankly I was not at all sure that you -would have ventured, when it came to the point. Anyhow, -I fancy this marks the end of ‘the King’s’ supremacy.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor came up, yawning, and rubbing his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Aha—this looks nice,” he observed. And then, referring -to Bjarni’s last remark, he went on: “And it’s high -time we did start acting for ourselves. Rebellion, eh? I -tell you what, I’ll stand drinks all round when you’ve -finished here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was great commotion at the station; folk hung -about in crowds outside the stockroom. A few only dared -to enter; the rest preferred to wait and see what happened. -They were not without a certain satisfaction at the act of -rebellion, albeit aware that it was their duty to feel indignant. -There was a general atmosphere of excitement—what -would happen next?</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And this year the price of wool is the same to all,” said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>Bjarni exultantly to the doctor. “If he doesn’t care to -deal with me, he can go to Jon Borgari.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor laughed loudly, and Sera Daniel smiled approval. -Jon Borgari was a man of sixty, who had set up -on his own account in a small way, some five years back. -On payment of fifty Kroner, he had acquired a licence to -trade. His store was a mean little place, his whole stock-in-trade -hardly amounted to more than one of Ørlygur’s ordinary -purchases from Bjarni. He had found it impossible to -do any considerable business, as the peasants were all in -debt to Bjarni already, and could not transfer their custom -elsewhere. Jon was considerably older than Bjarni, but the -latter’s business was of longer standing. Bjarni had moved -to Hofsfjordur twelve years before, and partly, at least, by -his industry and smartness, he had compelled an old-established -house in the place, a branch of a foreign firm, to close -down. This he could never have done had it not been for the -patronage of Ørlygur à Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was commonly supposed that Jon Borgari had saved -a good sum in his time—and the idea was further supported -by his recent marriage to a maiden of eighteen, who had -accepted him in preference to many eager suitors of the -younger generation. But no one ever dreamed of considering -Jon Borgari as a possible “purveyor to the King.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni’s warehousemen were busy weighing in the priest’s -consignment. There was still no sign of life on the road -from Borg. And gradually even Bjarni himself began to -forget his fears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then suddenly the blow fell. Ormarr with his five men, -and the laden horses, came galloping up: Ørlygur à Borg had -sent his wool.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni was struck with amazement; for a moment he -could not grasp the situation. Sera Daniel retired prudently -to the back of the room. The doctor joined him, with an -expression of pleasant anticipation on his puffy face. This -was going to be amusing. And, fortunately, he himself had -nothing to do with the affair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the first shock had passed off, Bjarni realized with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>a feeling of relief that Ørlygur himself had stayed at home. -To the onlooker this was a wonder in itself. Never before -had Ørlygur à Borg sent in his wool without accompanying -it in person.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a moment all sorts of wild conjectures passed through -Bjarni’s brain. And then—he committed the fatal error -of coming to the conclusion which best suited himself; -Ørlygur must have stayed away in order to avoid being -present at his own defeat, in the setting aside of ancient -custom.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr did not dismount. He rode straight up to the -trader, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My father has given orders that his wool is to be weighed -in at once.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He spoke without the slightest trace of emotion; as if -it were a matter of course that the trader should stop the -weighing of any one else’s wool and attend to Ørlygur’s -forthwith.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni again indulged in an erroneous inference: Ørlygur -à Borg had stayed away because he feared his demands -might be refused. And if “the King” himself thought that -possible—why, then, it could be done!</p> - -<p class='c004'>A wave of joy swept over Bjarni. He felt as if he had -already won a decisive battle against heavy odds. And his -reply was given in a tone more overbearing than usual—though -he regretted it the moment he had spoken.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We can’t very well stop weighing in this lot now. What -do you say, Sera Daniel?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel said nothing at all. His friend Bjarni would -have to carry the matter through without assistance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni turned to Ormarr once more—the boy was still in -the saddle—and adopting a fatherly tone, went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But it won’t take very long, you know. If you start -unloading the horses now, and get the bales undone, while -we’re finishing this, there won’t be much time lost.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But before any one could say more, a new development -occurred. Ørlygur à Borg, on his snorting, fiery mount, -Sleipnir, dashed into the stockroom.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>His entry came like a thunder-clap. The onlookers, who -had kept their distance up to now, drew closer in, holding -their breath. No one, not even Ørlygur’s own men, with -the exception of Ormarr, had expected this.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni, Sera Daniel, and the doctor greeted him in servile -fashion; he answered with an impatient gesture, as of a -sovereign in ungracious mood towards importunate underlings. -Then riding up to Ormarr, he asked quietly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What are you waiting for?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“They are weighing in Sera Daniel’s wool.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Has Bjarni refused to take over mine at once?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. He asked us to unload and wait.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good. We will take it back to Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, having given his orders, Ørlygur rode up to Bjarni, -pressing him so close that the foam from his horse bespattered -the trader, forcing him to retreat step by step.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Now mark you this, Bjarni Jonsson. You can hire -horses yourself to fetch that wool from Borg. But do not -come until you are prepared to pay a heavy price. I warn -you, my wool this year will not be cheap.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, without a word of farewell, he turned his back on -the speechless and astonished trio, and with a cheery smile -to the crowd, rode homeward, followed by his men.</p> - -<p class='c004'>That day messengers were sent out from Borg to all the -farmers round, to say that Ørlygur à Borg was willing to buy -wool for cash, at the same prices as offered by the trader.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Next morning, he sent off one of his men with a letter and -a saddle-horse to Jon Borgari. Jon read the letter, mounted -at once, and rode back to Borg, where he was closeted with -Ørlygur for some time. When he left the place, he looked -as if ten years had fallen from his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmers understood that Ørlygur’s offer to buy their -wool for cash was equivalent to a command—they must -choose between him and the trader. And they did not hesitate -a moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur paid them in gold and silver. Then, with his -help, they wrote out the lists of the goods they required, the -lists being subsequently handed to Jon Borgari. Jon was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>now Ørlygur’s ally, and in a very short time his unpretending -little store was threatening the trade of Bjarni Jonsson’s -own.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni Jonsson’s trick had recoiled upon himself. He got -Sera Daniel’s wool—but not a pound from any one beside.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>One burning hot afternoon, late in the summer, -Ormarr was sitting up on the edge of a high -ridge of Borgarfjall, to the west of Borg. A -great flock of sheep grazed on the plateau below.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr, as shepherd, found his task light. It was just -after lambing-time, and for the first two or three days the -sheep had been difficult to handle. Full of anxiety, and -bleating piteously, they rushed about in all directions, vainly -seeking their offspring. Now, however, they had more or -less accustomed themselves to the new state of things, and -kept fairly well together, so that Ormarr was free to devote -most of his time to his favourite pursuits: playing the -violin, and dreaming.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He made a curious picture, this fourteen-year-old peasant -lad, as he sat there, clad in rough homespun, his clothes -fitting clumsily, and hiding the lithe beauty of his frame. -The clear-cut face, the strong chin resting on the violin, and -the lean hand with its supple fingers running over the strings, -contrasted strangely with the everyday coat, darned and -patched in many places.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Often he fell into a reverie, his dark eyes gazing on the -distant mountains, the fingers relaxing, and the slender -brown hand with the bow resting on his knee. The face, -too thin for a boy of his age, bore a grave and thoughtful -expression, with a touch of melancholy. The black masses -of curling, unruly hair, and the faint coppery tinge in the -skin, suggested Celtic descent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Yet despite the trace of something foreign in his appearance, -he was at heart a true child of his country. The wistful, -dreamy thoughts that burned in his dark, passionate -eyes, betrayed that rich and abundant imagination peculiar -to the sons of Iceland, fostered by the great solitude and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>desolate yet fertile grandeur of the land itself. So deeply -is the sense of that grandeur rooted in their hearts, that even -those who have roamed the world over, and lived most of -their lives in milder and richer climes, will yet declare that -Iceland is the most beautiful of all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Another typical trait in Ormarr’s nature was the melancholy -that consumed his soul—a product of youthful self-absorption -without the corresponding experience.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His descent from the ancient and noble race of Borg -was apparent in his chariness of words, in his credulity,—it -was a thing inconceivable, that he or any of his should tell -a falsehood,—in his self-reliance, and strong belief that he -was in the right, as long as he followed the dictates of his -own conscience. Young as he was, every look, every feature, -betrayed the born chieftain in him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This was evident most of all in his music—which consisted -mainly of dreams and fantasies he had himself composed. -From the first day he had learned to hold the instrument, he -had thrown into his music a burning interest and an overwhelming -love. It gave him the only possible outlet for the -longing that filled him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Loneliness and despair sobbed in the sweet and passionate -strains; the strings vibrated with a deep desire, that yet had -no conscious aim, but the sound brought relief, though never -satisfying to the full.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His playing revealed his soul as a wanderer in the wilderness—as -a giant whose strength is doomed to slumber under -the weight of unbreakable shackles; it showed that, to him, -life was a slow, consuming pain, the purpose of which he -could not grasp; that he was born with a wealth of power, -yet found no single thing to which he could devote it. Here -he was, heir to the estate, and yet—perhaps for that very -reason—born in bondage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Despite his youth, Ormarr was alive to the danger of his -changing moods, which, as he often thought, bordered on insanity. -Proud as he was of being heir to Borg, he nevertheless -felt a smouldering hatred of his heritage, since it fettered -him from birth. With all these longings in his soul, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>was conscious of being himself part and parcel of Borg; -something told him that here, and here alone, was the soil -in which his personality and varying moods could grow into -one harmonious and united whole. He had only to follow -in the steps of his fathers. But this, again, seemed too easy -a solution of the riddle of life—he preferred a struggle to -the death. It was as if his descent, and his natural prospects, -excluded him from all the adventures he longed for; -the part for which he seemed cast was beneath the level of -his strength and ability.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But he realized that any outward expression of such -thoughts would compromise him, and bring disgrace upon -his family: he must conceal them, hide them in silence, never -breathe a word of it all to any other. Only in his music, -where he could speak without betraying himself by words, -could he venture to ease his heart of its burden.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt like a galley slave, chained to the oar for life, without -hope of escape. The idea of rebellion, of emancipation, -had never crossed his mind. Had any one suggested such a -thing, he would have risen up in arms against it at once, -for, in spite of all, he felt himself so at one with his race that -to desert it thus would be nothing less than to betray -himself.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>That same afternoon an unexpected event took place at -Borg. The Vicar, Sera Daniel, accompanied by Bjarni -Jonsson, came to call.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg was resting on his bed, which in the daytime -was covered, like a couch, with a many-coloured rug, -when news was brought him of the visit. The girl informed -him that she had asked the visitors into the big hall. Ørlygur -smiled when he heard their names. He had just returned -from a sale of driftwood, held at the instance of one of the -farmers whose lands ran down to the shore, and who yearly -gathered in large stocks of washed-up timber, which was -subsequently sold, either privately or by auction. He was -tired, and felt too comfortable where he was to care about -moving.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“Let them come in here if they have anything to say,” he -told the girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two men exchanged glances when the message was -brought them. Each found a certain satisfaction in witnessing -the humiliation of the other, which helped him to bear his -own. Nevertheless, on entering Ørlygur’s room, both were -visibly embarrassed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur himself did nothing to set them at their ease. -Without rising, he took their proffered hands, answered their -greetings with a murmur of something inaudible, and indicated -that they might be seated.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was but a single chair in the room, placed between -the two beds. Sera Daniel would willingly have left it to -Bjarni—though he considered it due to himself and his -superior social position to take it in order not to be too close -to his host. Bjarni, however, had a similar disinclination, -and forestalled his companion by taking a seat at once on the -edge of the bed, well pleased at having attained his end, while -seeming to act from sheer natural modesty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while no one spoke. Ørlygur stretched himself, and -smiled faintly, awaiting the explanation of the visit.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel cleared his throat for an introduction he had -prepared beforehand. But he got no further than a slight -cough. And, looking at Bjarni, he perceived that the latter -was in a like predicament, his usually grey face turning a -fiery red.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was enjoying the situation, and maintained a ruthless -silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel soon realized that he could look for no -assistance from the trader, who apparently considered that -the priest’s closer proximity to the enemy carried with it -the obligation to deliver the first attack. At last he stammered -out:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Er—we have come—to tell the truth—to see you. H’m—about -a matter that—er—distresses us somewhat. And we -thought that—perhaps—it might be not altogether pleasant -to yourself—that is to say—of course—I mean, considering....”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>Ørlygur slowly rose to a sitting position. Then setting -his hands firmly on his knees and leaning forward slightly, -he looked straight into the other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“To tell the truth, Sera Daniel, I am not aware of any -matter which distresses me in any way at the moment. I -fancy your idea of something <em>mutually</em> unpleasant must be -due to a misunderstanding. Your troubles are hardly mine, -you know; the more so since we have seen very little of each -other for quite a long time now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, no, of course not. But—you know better than any -one else that it is you who set the example to all the parish.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If that is so, you explain yourself badly. I stay away -from church, certainly—for the simple reason that I prefer to -avoid meeting a clergyman whom I dislike. My affair with -you will keep me away from church until it is settled—possibly -as long as you conduct the service there. If the rest -of your parishioners elect to do the same, it merely means that -your conscience will soon forbid you to remain as spiritual -guide to a flock who avoid you. If, on the other hand, your -conscience should prove more accommodating in this respect, -I have no doubt that the authorities will discover in a short -time what you are unable to see for yourself. You take my -meaning, Sera Daniel?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am not sure that I do. I cannot see why a thoughtless -action on my part last spring—which I deeply regret—should -embitter you to such an extent that you stake the spiritual -welfare of the congregation in revenge.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, that’s rather too much. You say you regret your -thoughtlessness last spring. I translate that as meaning -simply that you regret having managed so badly; that you -realize the failure of your clumsy conspiracy against me, with -our friend the trader there—who seems worn out by the -heavy business of the summer season, since he apparently -can’t open his mouth. And then you haven’t even the -decency to keep this sordid affair to itself, but must mix it up -with the spiritual welfare of your congregation. Well, it -simply shows that you are more impudent even than I had -thought.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>“If it were not that my position as incumbent here forces -me to set aside my personal interests—for the sake of the -parish, you understand—and to avert if possible the disastrous -consequences—”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Disastrous? My dear Sera Daniel, you are a marvel. -Unless you take ‘the parish’ as meaning yourself and some -few others, I cannot see your argument at all. I do not regret, -and see no reason to regret, what has taken place, and I -am afraid ‘the parish’ takes the same view. I am not one -of those men who act hastily and afterwards regret their folly. -Candidly, Sera Daniel, your ideas are too vague and too complicated -for me to care to discuss them further. I have had -quite enough of empty talk; let us come to facts. And here -I imagine that Bjarni Jonsson will be better able to speak. -How very fortunate that he happened to come at the same -time.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, turning to Bjarni, Ørlygur went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“As far as I remember, we arranged last time I saw you, -that you could come out here and buy my wool when you were -prepared to pay a decent price.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Certainly—yes, of course. That is, I am ready ... to -discuss....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Very well, then. I hope the discussion will be brief. Let -me make it clear at the start that my terms are fixed, and not -intended as a basis for negotiation. You can, of course, -refuse them if you prefer, but I must insist on the matter being -settled quickly. I need not tell you, I suppose, that I bought -up all the wool I could last spring, when I realized that prices -would be exceptionally high—your books have no doubt made -that evident to yourself already. I am willing to let you -have all my wool at a reasonable price, as I know that many -of the peasants hereabout are in your debt, and that you are -anxious for a settlement. I myself am not in your debt. I -do not owe you money, and certainly very little consideration. -My peasants, on the other hand—you must excuse my calling -them ‘my peasants,’ we are linked, you know, by friendship -and common interests—my peasants owe you money, and I am -willing to offer my wool in clearance of their debts, or as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>much of their debts as it will cover. The debt will thus be -transferred to a creditor who can perhaps afford to give them -longer credit. You, I take it, are chiefly anxious to make -money.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni sat with downcast eyes. The word of “the King” -cut him like a knife. He realized well enough that his business -at Hofsfjordur would be entirely ruined. Up till now -he had cherished a faint hope that Ørlygur would spare him, -if only he humbled himself sufficiently. At length he -realized, that though Ørlygur had mercifully saved him from -absolute ruin, and reduced his loss by paying the farmers’ -debts, he would never have another customer unless he could -succeed in winning him over again. And the present reception -did not seem to offer any great hope of re-establishing that -connection.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Yet he still clung to the hope that by absolute humility he -might work on Ørlygur to extend his leniency still -further. Therefore, without a murmur, he agreed to -Ørlygur’s terms. He could not reconcile himself to the idea -of leaving the place and throwing up the excellent position -he had toiled and planned so many years to gain. He could -not bear to think that all was absolutely lost through his own -stupidity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His blood boiled at the thought, but he dared not show it; -his fate depended now on Ørlygur’s next move. And meanwhile, -his little cunning soul was on the alert for any -opportunity of showing “the King” what a loyal subject he -could be, and would, if only he might be forgiven this once.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nevertheless, his heart was filled with a vindictive hatred—first -and foremost hatred of Ørlygur, then of Sera Daniel and -the rest of the community. Fate had been cruel to him, and -was mocking him into the bargain—the one consolation about -the whole affair was that things seemed as bad at least, if not -worse, for Sera Daniel.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Had Bjarni, the trader, but known that Ørlygur à Borg was -at that very moment filled with loathing for the servility he -displayed, he would have given vent to a burst of rage on the -spot—and it might have saved him, as nothing else could.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>Ørlygur certainly felt sorry for the fellow; he knew how -much Bjarni had at stake, and how harmless and altogether -inferior he really was. He decided, therefore, to spare him, -if he could, by unreasonable demands, lead him to give up his -servile attitude and lose his temper in honest fashion.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, my horses and men are at your disposal for -carrying the wool, if you wish to buy it—the price of transport, -of course, being in addition. I can let you have fifty -horses for the work, so it will not take long. The price—well, -it will simplify matters to fix one price for all wool of the -same colour. That is to say: one Krone for all white, and -half a Krone for the rest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bjarni turned pale; for the moment he found it difficult to -control his features. He looked at Ørlygur with the eyes of -a wounded dog. But Ørlygur seemed not to notice his imploring -gaze, and went on carelessly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, what do you say? Is that fair?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” stammered Bjarni in reply. Then, quickly, and -with an assumption of easiness, he added:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, that is settled. Tomorrow?” He nodded as -he said the last word; he felt that the moment had come to -change the tone of the conversation. This cheerful acceptance -on his part of an absurd price was a friendly hand, which -he expected Ørlygur would grasp at once.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The effect, however, was contrary to what he had looked -for. Ørlygur seemed to take it as a personal affront; he rose -quickly, and said in an angry voice:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Very well, then!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two visitors also rose, and without a word all three -walked from the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel also was highly dissatisfied with the result of -his visit. Both he and Bjarni were in a state of painful -suspense with regard to the future; they could not persuade -themselves that this was Ørlygur’s last word in the matter. -It was too dismal a failure for them to accept it as final. -Sera Daniel had hoped that the threatening cloud of Ørlygur’s -displeasure, which had darkened his work and prospects all -through the summer, would be dispelled. He fretted inwardly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>over every word he had said, and the manner in which he had -spoken. Bjarni, too, had cherished similar hopes; an -amicable settlement meant even more to him than to the priest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As if by common instinct, both men hesitated to leave; their -manner showed plainly that there was more in their minds. -But Ørlygur pretended not to understand their anxiety, and -left it to them to make any further move.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Meantime, they had reached the stables. And here they -stopped. Ørlygur seemed only waiting for them to take their -leave; but the visitors still hoped for some opening—something -to happen, they did not quite know what.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then suddenly the quivering notes of a violin were heard. -Here was a welcome excuse for delaying their departure. -Ørlygur was listening with delight, as so often before, to his -son’s playing; for a while all three stood motionless.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur smiled; a smile that covered, perhaps, both his -admiration and his aversion—the two conflicting feelings -which Ormarr’s playing always seemed to awaken at the same -time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then Sera Daniel spoke—simply and naturally:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How beautiful!” But at the same moment he reflected -that he ought to know Ørlygur’s character better than to say -things like that. And by way of altering the impression of -his words, he added, in an entirely different tone:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is the making of a fortune in that music.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg did not grasp his meaning. And though -he knew that Sera Daniel would never dare to make fun of -him, “the King,” to his face, he was on his guard. He looked -at the speaker with a glance of cold inquiry.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“In foreign countries there are artists who make fortunes -by playing the violin. I have often wished that I were an -artist like that ... it must be wonderful to travel from one -great city to another and be rich. I have heard such men in -Copenhagen, when I was studying there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Ørlygur à Borg realized that the priest’s words -pointed, not to impossible realms of fancy, but to a world of -beautiful reality, the look in his eyes changed. So strange -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>was his glance, so complete the alteration, that Sera Daniel -flushed with pleasure at the effect of his words.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while Ørlygur stared straight before him, as if in -thought. Great things were passing in his mind. Where -others would deliberate at length, Ørlygur à Borg was -capable of taking in a situation in a moment. He was thinking -of Ormarr’s and his brother’s future, and with his wonted -respect for sudden impulses, which he was almost inclined -to attribute to divine influence, he made up his mind quickly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned to the priest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“While I think of it, Sera Daniel, there is a matter I have -been wanting to talk over with you for some time. Are you -going back home by the shorter road? Then I will go with -you part of the way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The trader took the words as a hint to himself to disappear. -Bidding good-bye to Ørlygur and the priest, he rode off with -a troubled mind. This was worse than all; an understanding -between Ørlygur and Sera Daniel left him utterly hopeless.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel, on the other hand, was delighted at the honour -conferred on him by the King of Borg. Leading his horse, -he walked down the road with Ørlygur, waiting for what was -to come.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had made no mistake in calculating that the -fright he had given the priest would suffice to keep him from -any further attempts at revolt. After that lesson in the unwritten -law of the parish, Sera Daniel would be ready to -serve him to the utmost, if need should arise. And as things -were turning out now, the priest might well be useful to him, -in regard to the future of his sons. Ørlygur determined to -make peace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked on for a while in silence. Then Ørlygur -spoke:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sera Daniel—would you undertake to teach Ormarr -Danish? He knows a little, and it would be as well for him -to improve on it before he goes away. He will be leaving for -Copenhagen this autumn.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Daniel was almost moved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A pleasure indeed—a very great pleasure. I am glad to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>hear he is going. There is a great future in store for him—of -that I feel sure. I have rarely heard any one play so well; he -seems far in advance of his age. You should send him to the -Conservatoire at Copenhagen—they will make a great artist -of him there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes—or to some eminent teacher.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“At first—yes, of course.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“From first to last,” Ørlygur corrected, with a smile. -“He must have the very best teacher throughout. I am going -to give him every possible chance. And with regard to his -stay in Copenhagen, and matters generally, perhaps you could -give him some hints....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They discussed the matter at length. And when Sera -Daniel rode home, his fickle heart swelled with love and -admiration for Ørlygur the Rich, who had become his -gracious patron after the long, dreary months of enmity.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>That evening when Ormarr had driven the sheep into -the fold, he saw his father coming slowly towards him, and -realized that Ørlygur wished to speak to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two sat down on the grassy wall of the paddock.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Bjarni Jonsson has been up to buy the wool.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur spoke without any sign of triumph in his voice, -and Ormarr evinced no excitement at the information. To -both it seemed only natural and inevitable that the matter -should have ended thus.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sera Daniel came with him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>After this there was a pause. Then Ørlygur looked his son -in the eyes. “Ormarr,” he went on, “I have something important -to say to you. You are growing up now, and we must -think of your future. Not yours alone, but that of your -brother and the estate as well. In short, it concerns Borg. -Have you any wish to take over the management of the -place?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know....” Ormarr gazed thoughtfully before -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, I will tell you what I have been thinking of today. -Sera Daniel tells me that there are men in foreign countries -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>whose whole work in life consists in playing the violin. You -understand, of course, that first of all they must learn to -master it thoroughly. They are taught at schools, or by -private teachers. Would you care to do the same—to learn -to play properly—rules and notes and everything?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That means—going abroad?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr’s voice trembled, and he turned a little pale. The -golden bird of fortune and adventure flashed into the vision -of his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. I spoke to Sera Daniel about teaching you English -as well as Danish. While you are in Copenhagen, you might -find time to study other languages, without neglecting your -music. Languages are always useful: if you become a great -artist, you may have to travel in many countries, play your -violin everywhere. Anyhow, you shall have the chance. -Perhaps your liking for it may not last, or you may find you -have not talent enough. If so, you can come back to Iceland -again—to Borg if you care to. What do you think—would -you like to try?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, father—if you will let me. It would be wonderful.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I pray God I may be allowed to live a few years more. -If you come back here, you will still have your birthright to -the estate. But if you prefer to give up your claim, I will -see that your brother is brought up to take over the place himself. -The next few years will show what is best.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr could not sleep that night. He lay weaving dreams -about his future.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To him, it all appeared one bright, sunny vision. He -pictured life as one grand triumphal procession. He knew -that the country he was going to abounded in forests of -bright-hued beech and dark pine woods; with lovely -orchards, where ripe fruit hung on the trees ready for one -to pick and eat. He had read of Danish gardens, where -roses and lilac filled the air with their scent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He counted the days now till he should be able to look -with his own eyes on palaces he had known hitherto only -from pictures in books—real palaces of kings! They would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>be no longer castles in the air to him, but real; grand piles -of solid stone and mortar. He could walk through their -halls, breathe the air of bygone centuries that hung there -still; could touch with his hands the very walls that had -stood there for hundreds of years.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He painted for himself a future like that of one of the -old Icelandic bards. He would play to kings and nobles. -There was a lust of travel in his blood, of wandering -through life by the royal road of glory and fame. It was -almost painful to remember that he had ever thought of -living all his days at Borg, as his ancestors had done.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The great world called to him, and every fibre in him answered -to the call. He knew that there, where he was going, -were wonderful machines contrived to do the work of -men. He had never been able to think of such machines as -really inanimate things; he longed to see with his own eyes -the arms, hands, and fingers they must surely possess. Yet, -at the same time, the thought of it made his flesh creep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Think—to fill a room with light by the mere turning of a -switch! And to talk with people through a wire—which he -imagined as hollow. And there were places where conjurers -worked miracles, and acrobats performed impossible -feats; clowns jested and played tricks.... And gardens -filled with cages of strange beasts from countries even farther -off....</p> - -<p class='c004'>All these and many other things which he had read of, and -grown to consider as accessible only to a favoured few, were -now to be part of his own surroundings in his daily life. He -would live in a city with streets like deep chasms between unscalable -cliffs—cave-hollowed cliffs peopled with human beings, -instead of giants and goblins. He would go to theatres, -where actors seemed to kill one another, and thunder, lightning, -and snow could be brought into play within four walls. -He would travel endless miles in machine-driven cars that -raced along over rails of steel....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr lay in his dark room, his eyes wide open, letting -his fancy paint all manner of visions in the richest colours. -His mind was overwhelmed by a turmoil of new sensations.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>He tried to recall, one after another, all the pictures he -had seen of things in foreign lands; even to portraits of -celebrities, of jockeys galloping over turf, and sordid lithographs -with impossible figures in ridiculous postures, such as -he had seen stuck up in the local stores.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A fever of anticipation burned in his veins. And when -at last, towards morning, he dropped off into a broken sleep, -he was still surrounded by a crowd of the impressions he had -conjured up while awake. They vexed him now; he found -himself being thrown from cars that raced away from him -at full speed, losing his way in gloomy streets and labyrinthine -passages, being snatched up by the steel arms of strange -machines and crushed to pieces; standing with one end of a -wire between his teeth and vainly trying to speak to a famous -man at the other end; he switched on a light and set the -house on fire, and was only saved from being burned to death -by waking to find the sun shining full in his face.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>When a youth is thrown from the realm of fancy -and solitude into a world of realities, one of two -things takes place: either a process of reaction -sets in, and he fortifies his soul in some faith or tradition; or -he clutches greedily at life, becomes intoxicated by it, and -loses his foothold. Whatever happens to him depends less -upon strength of character than upon chance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In Ormarr’s case, reality fell short of his expectation in -some respects, and in others exceeded it. He felt, also, as if -he were born anew, entering upon an existence based on new -principles.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With all that he had looked forward to most keenly he was -frankly disappointed. On the other hand, he found an order -of things, of people and their actions, so alien to his own -mind and development that he felt himself an outsider, uncultured -and inferior. It seemed to him then, that the only -possible way to make up for lost time was to fling himself -headlong into this human maelstrom and swim for dear life. -And before he was himself aware of it, he was floating with -the tide. He soon proved to have all the requisite qualifications -for drifting so on the waters of life; he had means -enough, and withal a pleasant manner, with a certain air of -distinction, gay and yet self-possessed....</p> - -<p class='c004'>It did not occur to him to consider whither he was drifting; -there was no time to think. That he saw no land ahead or -to either side did not trouble him in the least. Life was -pleasant enough—and since its essential aim seemed to be -that of making it pleasant, why trouble one’s head about -anything?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Fortunately, there was always one plank at hand to which -he could turn for safety in case of need—unless he wilfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>thrust it from him. And as this resource in itself possessed -an extreme fascination for him—the chance of becoming a -great artist, a world-famed master—Ormarr never quite lost -touch of it, though he found it at times somewhat burdensome, -a check upon his natural movements towards pleasure and -enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His consistency in this respect was largely due to the personality -of his teacher, Abel Grahl, who had taken a kind and -fatherly interest in the boy from their first meeting. On the -day after his arrival at Copenhagen, Ormarr set out from -his hotel at a very early hour, and went in search of Grahl. -Sera Daniel had instructed him to seek out this man and not -rest until he had persuaded him to become his teacher.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Your career may depend upon it,” were the priest’s parting -words.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Abel Grahl was an elderly man, and life had used him -hardly. At twenty, he had stood on the threshold of fame: -his first appearance as a violinist, in London, had created an -unusual stir. Offers of engagements came to him in plenty, -but the day before he was to start on a tour, embracing the -principal cities of the world, he had managed to hurt his -finger slightly while out boating with some friends. Blood-poisoning -set in, and the finger had to be amputated. Then -for three years he was lost to the world; his friends and relations -believed him dead. Suddenly he reappeared in his native -town of Copenhagen, a silent, retiring man; no one ever -learned where or how he had spent the intervening years. -Even his intimates refrained from asking, partly out of regard -for his grief, partly for fear of reopening some trouble -not yet healed. He made his living as a teacher of music -especially with the violin; but his pupils were few, since he -mercilessly rejected all save those who showed unusual -promise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He lived a solitary life, in a suite of rooms badly in need -of repair. The landlord had given him permission to remove -the inner partitions, and turn the whole place into one big -studio; the kitchen he used as a bedroom.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl was not in the best of tempers on being awakened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>at six in the morning by a continued and vigorous ringing at -the bell. But at the sight of his visitor, a lad in ill-fitting -homespun clothes, with a calfskin bag tucked under his arm -(Grahl at once divined that it contained a violin), he found -some difficulty in keeping his countenance. He looked at the -boy with a faint, good-humoured smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr endeavoured to explain, in very imperfect Danish, -the object of his visit.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man burst out laughing. Then, noticing the boy’s -confusion, he asked him in, and patted him encouragingly on -the shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you mean to say you have come all the way from Iceland -to learn the violin? What did you say your name -was?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr, son of Ørlygur à Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I see, Ormarr à Borg, then.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, Ormarr Ørlygsson.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr Ørlygsson. And how did you manage to find -me?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It was quite easy. I had the address written on a paper, -and asked the way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, yes—but I mean, who told you to come to me?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sera Daniel—the priest. I was to come to you and get -you to teach me—you and no other. He said my career -might depend upon it. And he said if you refused, if you -sent me away once or twice or more, I was to try again.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“H’m. Seems clear enough. And you look as if you were -the sort to do it. Well, let me hear what you can do with that -instrument of yours.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr took out his violin. He was visibly nervous, and -it took him some time to tune up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Abel Grahl could not help remarking to himself that the -boy seemed awkward—and perhaps he did not even know -his notes. Anyhow, he refrained for the moment from -further questioning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last Ormarr ran his bow across the strings, put down -his bow and violin, took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves -to the elbow.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>Grahl watched him, making no sign. He was rather -surprised to find himself really interested, and waited impatiently -for the boy to begin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Ormarr took up his instrument again, the old man -asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How old did you say you were?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr hesitated. “Fifteen,” he said at length.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl shook his head in despair. Then he checked himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, well, we shall see. Go on now, if you are ready.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr began to play, without watching the other’s face. -He did not see how the man’s expression changed from mere -resignation to intense feeling, that drove all the blood from -his face. Now and again he frowned, and started slightly, -but repressed himself, and left Ormarr to finish at his will.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr played for ten minutes. At the last stroke of the -bow, Grahl leapt to his feet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Who wrote that?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It’s—it’s only about a sunset.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, yes, but where did you get hold of it—the tune?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I made it up myself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl stared at him, but the boy never flinched. No, -those eyes could not lie!</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What else can you play?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s all the songs they used to sing at home. And -the hymns from church.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Can you play at sight?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr shook his head doubtfully.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I mean, do you know the written notes?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No; I was never taught.” Ormarr felt crushed at the -confession.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For fully a quarter of an hour he was kept in suspense; -it was like waiting for the summons to execution.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Abel Grahl walked up and down. Now and again he -stopped full in front of the boy, scrutinizing him from head -to foot. Then he shook his head as if in dismissal, turned -away abruptly, and stood for a while at the window, whistling -softly to himself; came back and stared at Ormarr once -more, looking hard into the dark, glowing eyes that seemed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>to have grown dim. Who could say how much it might -mean to this lad if he sent him away? He felt, too, that -those eyes could express something more than despair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt himself drawn toward this child of nature who -had been flung at him, at it were, like a ball, from hundreds -of miles away—if he did not take it but threw it back, -would it land safely, or would it be lost in the sea?</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last he spoke, though he had not yet made up his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is a difficult thing to study—and it means years of -work. Also, it will cost a great deal of money. Where are -you to get that from?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“From my father.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And what is your father?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A farmer.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Is he rich?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is he worth, about?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He owns all Borg, and....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I mean, how many thousand...?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Three thousand.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Three thousand—is that all?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. No one in Iceland has more than three thousand -sheep. He has more than any one else there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sheep—I see. A biggish place, then. Many horses?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know how many exactly. There are many—<em>stodhross</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“<em>Stodhross</em>—what’s that?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Horses that live out on the hills. But we’ve a hundred -and twenty at home, on the place.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The devil you have. And how many cows?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“About a hundred most times.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you know any one here in Copenhagen?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. But the priest, he gave me a letter to a man I was -to ask to keep my money for me, if you did not care to be -troubled with it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you much with you now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have a thousand Kroner in my pocket-book, and a few -small notes in my purse.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>“H’m. I suppose you can look after your money all right -yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh yes, I have it....” He thrust a hand into his pocket.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No—I must have left it under my pillow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Under your pillow—where?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“At the place where I slept.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What on earth—Here, we must go along at once. Put -on your coat—no, never mind the violin. Where are you -staying? What street?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know what street it is.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But good heavens, child—the name of the hotel, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Hotel H——, it is called. Sera Daniel told me to go there -the first night.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They reached the street, and Grahl hurried on ahead to -where some cabs were standing. Hailing one, he gave the -address, hurried the boy in, and followed himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In the vestibule of the hotel they were met by the porter, -who advanced with a discreet smile, and handed a pocket-book -to Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You don’t seem to care much for your money, sir. The -maid found this little sum under your pillow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The little episode was not perhaps, in itself, the decisive -factor in establishing the ultimate relationship between -Ormarr and Grahl. But it certainly did much to link them -closer, and from that time forth, Grahl assisted the young -Icelander in many other ways, apart from merely teaching -him the violin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr succeeded from the first in winning the old man’s -affection, and making him interested in his career. He was -a constant source of surprise to his teacher. First and foremost, -there was his sudden transformation from chrysalis to -butterfly—from a peasant lad to a man-about-town.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Ormarr caused his teacher grave anxiety during -those years. But he never betrayed the confidence the old -man had shown at first. And in point of musical development -he surpassed all that Grahl had ever hoped for.</p> - -<p class='c004'>By the tenth winter, Grahl considered his pupil as perfect -at least as he himself had been when he had first appeared in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>public. All that was needed now was to introduce him to -an audience. The day for his début was fixed, and the large -room at the Concert Hall engaged.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For some time past, whispers had been current in musical -circles about Abel Grahl’s wonderful pupil. All were eager -to hear him, and every seat in the big hall was taken far in -advance.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had rooms on the outskirts of the town, looking -out over the Sound. In course of time, he had managed to -get the apartments furnished to his taste. The walls were -hung with rugs, an enormous divan occupied the centre of -the room, a few small tables stood about here and there, and -the four big chairs were packed with cushions. The divan -served as a bed at night; in the daytime it was covered with -a splendid Persian rug. Black, white, and brown sheepskins -were spread on the floor, and in front of the divan was flung -the pelt of a huge white bear.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Not a single picture was to be seen. But on the walls, -hidden behind the hangings, Ormarr had placed large reproductions -of well-known portraits of great composers. -And when playing, he would uncover the picture of that -particular master with whose work he was occupied for the -moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On the day before his first concert, Ormarr was resting, -fully dressed, on the divan. He was smoking; a bottle of -wine and a glass stood within reach on a small table.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had been out for his usual morning walk. But for the -last three hours he had not moved. It was now drawing towards -twilight. His glance moved idly from one window to -the other, following the race of clouds against the background -of a dull blue sky.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a knock at the door. Languidly Ormarr rose -to open. He recognized the voice of his friend, Aage -Blad.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Save for Grahl, Ormarr’s only intimate friend was the -young poet, Aage Blad; the two were constant companions. -Blad’s earnest love of life had endeared him to Ormarr, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>though the latter, true to his adopted rôle of insincerity, -often made fun of his friend’s seriousness, the poet had soon -realized that it was not meant, and as a rule paid no heed to -it. But if ever he found that he had gone too far, Ormarr -always relapsed into silence, and his friend understood that -this was his way of asking forgiveness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Blad glanced at Ormarr’s face as he entered, and gathered -at once that his friend was not in the best of spirits. He -shook hands in silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr flung himself down on the divan once more, leaving -his visitor to make himself at home. Blad moved up a -chair, and the two friends smoked in silence for a while, -watching each other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nervous?” queried Blad at last.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Wish I were!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Curious thing to wish. Thank your stars you’re as cool -about it as you are. Anything wrong?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, everything.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, that’s no trifle, anyway.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I tell you what, Ormarr, I shan’t feel comfortable myself -until this concert’s over. Honestly, I’m getting quite feverish -about it. I’ve never been so excited about one of my -own things coming out—not even my first book.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No need for you to get excited that I can see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No need at all—you’re right, of course. It’s bound to -go off all right.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“On the contrary—there’s everything to be anxious about. -Everything—everything. Oh, well, hang it all—have another -drink.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr threw himself back and closed his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Aage Blad sat watching him; there was a dull, resigned -expression about the corners of the mouth; the forehead was -already deeply lined. There was strength as well as weakness -in the face, he thought. “A strange fellow,” he told -himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They smoked in silence for a while. Then, without opening -his eyes, Ormarr said:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>“It is a long time since I saw my home. Funny thing, -not feeling home-sick all these years. Can’t understand it -just now. I never longed for home till this winter. As -soon as the summer comes I must go back. Like to come -too?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“H’m—I don’t know. Iceland—the very name of it -makes me shiver. Anyhow, you’ll have to redeem that fur -coat you gave me—extravagant person that you are.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But it’s not so cold at home. Not in the summer, at -any rate. The coldest thing about Iceland is its name. And -the nights there—so wonderfully calm and light they are in -spring.... It’s a long time to wait till the spring. I wish -I were back home again now. I’ve never seen a sky so blue -and deep as there. Before I came to Denmark I had an -idea that in a flat country one would see more of the sky -than at home, with all the mountains and their shadows. -But then the mountains are so far away. And once you get -there ... Aage, I would give all the forests in the world, -all the orchards and cornfields and flower gardens, for a -single mountain. But a real one, mind you, with huge rocky -ridges, and green plateaus, and snow at the top. Good -heavens, man, to think that I have one all to myself—yes, -I own a mountain. I never thought of it before. Can you -understand how I ever could stay away from it all so long? -But I’m going back now—going home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s the concert first, don’t forget—tomorrow. And -you’re going to be famous.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Tomorrow ... yes....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had sat up, resting on his elbow, while he spoke -of his home. Now, he threw himself back once more, as if -exhausted, and lay with closed eyes as before. For a few -moments neither spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Aage,” said Ormarr at last, “I feel tired—deadly tired. -I’ve been idling here all day. Tomorrow? I feel as if tomorrow -were already a thing of the past.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He got up, filled his glass and that of his friend.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Drink! Aage, I’ve something to tell you. Just let me -go on talking, and don’t bother about it, I only want to get -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>it out. What do you think I’ve been seeing all the time, -lying here with my eyes shut? This is no life for me. I -have been counting. It is my tenth winter here now. Ten -years, man—think! And today it seemed as if I had come -yesterday. I have been asleep—fast asleep. But it can’t -go on. There’s something hurting me, a sort of longing——Oh, -I know it sounds all nonsense, but you needn’t worry -about that.... No, this won’t do. I don’t go on drinking -and enjoying life in this wasteful, silly fashion—and forgetting. -I wasn’t made to live like that. I was made to think, -and to work. And now here have I been living for ten years—yes, -and working hard, I know—but all for nothing. It -means nothing at all, really. Famous? If I found myself -famous after tomorrow, I should be no better off than I am -now. I’ve no ambition of that sort any longer—not a scrap. -I never realized it before—it’s only just lately I’ve seen it. -And think of dear old Abel Grahl! Do you know, honestly, -I believe he’s jealous—the dear old boy! He’s fond of me, -I know; and now that I’m on the eve of my ‘conquest,’ as -he always says, he thinks of the time when he made his conquest—and -fate overtook him after. I’m sadly afraid that -old trouble’s cropped up again now with him. And after -all, what is there to envy, anyway? What sort of a future -if I do succeed? The life of a flunkey—a menial in gold -lace, playing for money—and to whom? I’ve been studying -my fellow-creatures this winter—musical people—my -audience-to-be. Copenhagen’s not the world I know; but -human beings are much the same everywhere, I take it, -though their looks and manners may differ somewhat in detail. -Grahl has been taking me about. He hates ‘society,’ -I know, but he took it all up again for my sake—that’s the -sort of man he is. It all helps, he says. Oh, and you should -have heard their talk, their hard-and-fast opinions, and the -views of the professional critics. Sometimes I feel I simply -can’t go on living. Simply can’t stand it. What wretched -caricatures we all are—myself included. No I’ve finished -with this sort of life. There’s not a thing in the world I -care for now, except to go back home. If only I could be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>sure <em>that</em> was a genuine feeling, and not another delusion. -Don’t look down on me, old man—Heaven knows, I’ve no -great thoughts about myself just now. You know me well -enough to see that I’m not drunk. But I feel—oh, just -worthless. All these years—and living like this—it’s too -contemptible. I feel as if I hadn’t an atom of will-power -left. Just sick and tired of everything ... and longing, -aching for something.... Good of you to listen so patiently. -Have a drink.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Blad was silent for some time, and when at last he spoke -it was in a low voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s something I should like to say to you,” he said -quietly. “And I’m half afraid to begin. I’ve been thinking -a lot, and some of it I mustn’t say at all. But I will say -this: When we have been together anywhere—out in the -country, or on the sea, or in the town—anywhere, I always -had a feeling that we lived as it were on different levels, you -and I. To me, you were always the born leader; I felt if you -took it into your head to order me about, I should have to -obey. Things seemed somehow to belong to you. Then at -other times, I could feel as if you were a distinguished visitor—one -can’t help these stray thoughts, you know—as if Nature -herself put on her best and did all she could to please -you—while I was just an ordinary person, not worth making -a fuss about. I belonged to her, as one of her children, and -could stray about unnoticed among the trees like any other -creature in the forest; it never came into my head to look on -her in that gay lordly way of yours. And sometimes it -seemed you were the better off; sometimes that it was better -to be as I was. It’s all only fancies, of course, but still it -does prove one thing: that we are utterly different. I am -quite content to live an ordinary uneventful life; as long as -I can ramble about in Nature’s garden and cultivate the -modest growths of my art, it is enough for me. I don’t care -for anything that calls for greater energy than I generally -give, whether it be the way of pleasure, or pain, or work. -I’ve no ambition worth mentioning. I can sit in my garden, -and enjoy the scent of the flowers, or go out in a boat, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>watch the sunlight on the water; walk in the woods in spring -and see the delicate green of the beech leaves against the sky—I -am happy enough with such things. There are heaps of -little trifling things of that sort that please me every day. -But it’s all different with you. It may sound theatrical, -perhaps, but it’s as if you had mountains—glaciers and volcanoes—in -your soul. And I shouldn’t care to change with -you—it’s all too big for me. But then again, if you were like -me, I shouldn’t care about you. You must live and act in a -different way; I see that. You could stand suffering better -than I; I’m sure of that. But I’m not quite sure that you -have the power of being really happy. Anyhow—well, you -know I’m your friend, and always will be.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I know that, Blad.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr got up, switched on the light, looked through a -bundle of newspapers and found the one he was looking for. -Nervously he turned the pages till he came to the shipping -intelligence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is a boat leaving the day after tomorrow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He dropped the paper, walked up and down the room -several times, shaking his head defiantly, as if at his own -thoughts, then threw himself down in a chair. A moment -later he glanced at his watch, and rose reluctantly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It’s time I went round now—to Grahl. The final -rehearsal....”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>In the big room where, ten years before, a curious figure -of a boy in ill-fitting clothes had called on him for the first -time, Abel Grahl sat at the piano accompanying the later -stage of that same youth—now a slender, pale-faced young -man. They were playing a nocturne—the only one of -Ormarr’s own compositions on the morrow’s program. -The theme was that same one of the sunset with which -Ormarr had introduced himself to his master, only the -technique was different.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr looked out through the window as he played, seeing -nothing in particular. As long as he held his violin, his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>soul lived only in the magic world of melody that flowed -from the strings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl’s accompaniment was strangely absent and -mechanical. His figure was bowed at the shoulders, and the -black coat he wore accentuated his thinness. He had aged -much of late, and looked haggard and worn. Now and again -he turned his head towards his pupil with a searching glance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When they had been through the whole of the programme, -Grahl remained seated at the instrument, striking one chord -repeatedly, his eyes fixed on nothing. The corners of his -mouth dropped in a bitter smile. Then, turning to Ormarr, -he said in a queer, strained voice:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Play that Andante once more, will you? Not that you -need it—it couldn’t be better. Just play it for me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Ormarr played.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he had finished, Grahl spoke, without looking up, as -to himself:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was one of the things I played at my first concert. -I did not play it as well as you—no, not half so well. I doubt -if Beethoven himself ever played it better!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while he sat with bowed head. Then raising himself -suddenly, he ran his fingers over the keyboard, and the -gay tones of the “Valse d’Espagne” danced like demons out -upon the silence that had followed Beethoven’s Andante.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr, who had been standing deep in thought, looked -round with a start; Grahl rose from the music-stool with a -harsh laugh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A fancy of mine,” he said shortly, “to let Waldteufel -loose on the heels of Beethoven.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went across to the table, lit a cigar, and slipped into -an easy-chair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr followed his movements intently. There was a -strange expression in his eyes, and the lines on his forehead -and face seemed deeper than usual.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl paid no heed to him; he was smoking, and evidently -occupied with his own reflections. When Ormarr moved, he -looked up, and pointed to a chair.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>“Sit down, Ormarr; not time to go home yet. Take a -cigar.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr took a cigar and lit it, covertly watching the expression -of the old man’s face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sit there, Ormarr, where I can see you; that’s it. I was -thinking, there’s not much left of the peasant lad who came -up here that morning ten years ago. The eyes are the same, -yes; and a look about the face—I’ve noticed it the last few -days.... Anyhow, it was as well I didn’t send you away -that day after all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr felt his cheeks flush, and bent forward in his -chair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My dear Grahl, I feel myself a man now in most things, -but there’s one thing that has stuck to me since I was a child. -I never could thank any one in words. And I don’t know -how to thank you in any other way.... I’m sure no father -ever did more for his son than you have done for me. I -hardly know how any one could do more for a fellow-creature -than you have.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh.... And what is this, if you please, if not thanking -me in words?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You know yourself how much I owe you—you know I -don’t exaggerate things as a rule....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There, Ormarr, that’s enough. You must have seen what -it meant to me all along—the joy and delight of teaching -you. No more pupils now for Abel Grahl. You are my last—and -my greatest. If I could find one greater still...? -I don’t think I shall live to be roused from my bed a second -time at six in the morning by a lad with his fiddle in a calfskin -bag and the promise of fame in his eyes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr laughed at the thought. A moment later he was -serious once more. And Grahl went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’ll go travelling about the world, giving concerts here, -there, and everywhere. I wish I were strong enough to go -with you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr laughed again, but without heartiness.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>“Grahl, my dear master, why not? Come with me! -Nowadays, with trains de luxe and floating palaces, it will be -pleasant as could be. And at least I should have some one to -play for.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I ... to travel ... after all? It’s late in the day ... and not exactly the way I had once thought....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr sprang to his feet, but sat down again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Grahl, you are my friend—the best I have, I think. I -must tell you something now—something that has happened -to me. Listen: I do not care about the concert tomorrow—it -means nothing. Fame is nothing to me now. To tell the -truth, I shudder at the thought of going about playing for -people I do not know, and should not care to know. Strangers—foreigners! -It makes me a piece of common property; -one of the artistic wonders of the world. And then to see my -name, my portrait, on huge posters everywhere ... read -interviews with myself, criticisms of my art—Grahl, the -thought of it sickens me. I won’t—I can’t—oh, if only I -could get out of it now, before....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why, boy ... Ormarr, my dear lad, what is this? -what has come over you? Surely you do not—you could -not think of throwing everything away now—burning -your ships? Ten years of hard work—yours and mine.... -If there were any risk, I could understand perhaps your being -afraid ... but as it is ... you have only to show yourself—one -first appearance, and the thing is done. No, -Ormarr, you could not draw back now. It would be madness—nothing -else.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That may be. But none the less, that is how I feel. I -have lost all desire to show myself, to appear in public. I -do not care for any ‘conquest.’ I could do it, I know. But -that means that in reality I have already conquered. It is -satisfaction enough to me; I need not show myself on a platform -to utter strangers who have paid so much for the right -to hear me play this or that. Every item on the programme -as a right—and extras in return for their applause. No—if -you cared, I should not mind playing to you every day, for -hours together—to you alone. Or to any others that I cared -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>about. Come back with me to Iceland. I will look after you, -be a son to you, take care of you, in every way. But spare me -this; release me from the burden of that concert and all that -should come after it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr—you must be out of your senses.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Whether or no, I am what I am. And I can’t be otherwise. -I am furious with myself too; blind fool that I -have been—oh, you don’t know what I feel at this moment.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr noticed that Grahl was feeling for his watch.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t,” he put in hastily. “I don’t want to see any -one tonight. I can’t stand it. I don’t know what may -happen....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Abel Grahl rose from his seat. When he spoke, his voice -was calm and earnest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr, remember I stand to you in a father’s stead. -You cannot get away from this. Where is my son, who had -grown to be a man of the world? We had grown out of -stage fright, nerves and all that nonsense, surely? Tomorrow -is our concert. We must not forget it, we must be -there in time. But beyond that, we need not give the matter -a thought. There—that’s the way to look at it. Don’t forget.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr paled slightly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Very well—have it your own way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A car was heard hooting outside, and they went out.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr stood on the platform of the Concert Hall, playing -the Andante from Beethoven’s Sonata. This was the third -item on the programme. The first had been a show piece, -from Tchaikowsky, which had given him an opportunity of -displaying his extraordinary skill and masterly technique. -After the second, his own nocturne, it seemed as if the -applause would never end. The audience was delirious. -The atmosphere of the nocturne, with its melancholy depths -and wild heights of joy, its bewildering beauty and strange -transitions, moved the dense crowd as if by magic.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The appearance of the young artist had fascinated his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>listeners from the outset. Despite the air of superiority and -composure, there was nothing of arrogance in his bearing. -At the first entry of this young man, with the pale, lean face -and the half-closed eyes that yet seemed to see everything, and -see through every one, the audience felt the magnetism of an -extraordinary personality.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Success was certain, inevitable. From the very first, the -audience had surrendered unconditionally.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he stood there playing, Ormarr appeared quite calm -and collected. Not the slightest tremor of the body, no trace -of expression on his smooth face, betrayed the struggle raging -within. But Ormarr himself knew that it was merely a question -of time; up to a certain point he might control himself—after -that, the deluge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Two men there were, however, among those in the hall, who -suspected something of the strain it cost him to keep his rebellious -temperament in check: they knew that his apparent -calm was but a mask. The two were Blad and Abel Grahl, -sitting together in the front row.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The serene progress of the Andante was undisturbed by -any sound from those in front. Ormarr felt as if his listeners -were turned to stone, and his playing was caressing them -like a gentle breeze.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then suddenly there came over him an irresistible desire -to jerk them back to life—to startle them, set them fluttering -and cackling like a pack of frightened fowls. To tear at -their sense, to render their innermost souls, to fling at them, -like a fiery volcanic eruption, something unexpected and -terrible—something unheard of.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In a fraction of a second it had come. A bursting of all -bonds that chained his ungovernable mind: reason, duty, -ambition, the fear of consequences. It was as if in a moment -he flung from him the prejudices and traditions in which -men are wont to dress, and stood there before them in primeval -nakedness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He saw Grahl trying to rise: trying to prevent something -he knew was coming....</p> - -<p class='c004'>And half unconsciously, as if it had been the most natural -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>thing in the world, he plunged blasphemously from Beethoven’s -Andante into Waldteufel’s “Valse d’Espagne.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was cool and calm as ever, but pale as a ghost. -The music raced away madly into the waltz, laughing and -crying in complete abandon.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A feeling of something uncanny seized the audience for -a second; as if icy waters had overwhelmed them in flood, -depriving them of movement, suffocating all cries for help.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grahl rose to his feet, and opened his mouth as if to cry -aloud. Then he fell back in his chair, without a sound.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly Ormarr stopped playing; his arms fell to his -sides, and he stood on the platform laughing—a tremulous, -uneasy laugh. Then he turned and fled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A storm of shouts and noise rose up from the audience. -The silence of enraptured listeners had given place to the -confusion of a disturbed ant-hill. Some questioned, others -raged, a few broke down entirely.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Scandalous!” “Mad!” sounded through the din. -Several minutes passed before any thought of leaving. -Then suddenly the word “dead” began to circulate. And -gradually the crowd grew quiet, and dispersed, moved to -forgiveness by the thought that the madman had ceased to -live. Only a few were aware that it was not the player who -was dead.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr reached home and let himself in—not until then -did he notice that he had walked all the way without hat or -overcoat, still carrying his violin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After all, what did it matter? His mind was in a state -of utter indifference to everything; completely numbed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His shoes were muddy, his dress coat wet through; he -raised his hand to his forehead and wiped the rain from his -face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His throat was parched; he felt nervous and ill. He fumbled -about for whisky and a syphon, drained one glass at a -draught and poured out another. Then, drenched and dirty -as he was, he threw himself down on the divan, without a -thought of changing his wet things.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>The blood throbbed in his temples; there was not a clear -thought in his mind. When he shut his eyes, he felt as if a -wheel were tearing round at a furious rate inside his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The door bell rang—it was Blad.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Grahl is dead!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Blad threw down Ormarr’s hat and coat, which he had -been carrying; he himself was out of breath, and overpowered -with emotion.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Grahl—dead?” Ormarr sat bowed forward, his hands -clasped, his eyes staring vacantly before him. Blad stood -watching him for a moment. Then he burst out:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You—you must be mad!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I suppose so—yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And—you don’t care in the least?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr made no reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Think of the scandal of it all!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Still Ormarr said nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And then—Grahl! That ought never to have happened.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I suppose not.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you mean to say it is all nothing to you—that you -have ruined your own career for ever, and killed Grahl—your -friend—your teacher? After that—oh, but you must -be insane, there’s no other word for it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Very well, then.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Were you drunk?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Drunk? No, I wasn’t drunk. But do let’s talk of something -else. It’s no good discussing this any more. It’s done, -and can’t be undone. I am going back home—to Iceland. -There’s a boat leaving tomorrow. Take off your coat, won’t -you—you’re going to stay now? Mix yourself a drink, man, -do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, thank you.” Blad spoke coldly, flinging out his -words, and pacing the floor excitedly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have I hurt you too? I can’t think how I could have -done that. Surely you can’t feel hurt at my being what I -am, and doing what I can’t help doing? I asked you to stay -just now, because I thought you were my friend. If you are -no longer my friend, then you had better go.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>“Really, I almost fancy you would like to turn me out now -because I decline to drink with you to Grahl’s happy decease. -By Heaven, you do not deserve that I should stay.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, you damned fool—who’s talking about what I -deserve!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Blad stopped suddenly, as if paralysed by the word. -Then in a voice heavy with emotion, he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr—that was the first ugly word I have ever heard -you use. And it was said to me—to me!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“To you—yes. But you made me angry, you know. Up -to then, I was only miserable—and so hopelessly tired. And -here you are reproaching me for things I could not help. -And really, you know, when you are so utterly foolish as to -measure me by your standards, I can’t call you anything -else. I don’t repent what I did tonight. How can a man -repent things that <em>happen</em>—things over which he had no control -whatever? But I do repent—or at least, I am sorry—for -what happened before—for what brought it all about. -Grahl was my friend and benefactor—and yet I cannot feel -any grief at his death. I simply can’t think at all at the -present moment; haven’t a single atom of emotion in me. -I’m just a wilderness. Oh, if you knew what I am suffering -now—death would be welcome; a relief. There’s just one -thing that grows and grows in me now—the need to go back, -to go home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And your father—what will he say, do you think?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My father? I don’t know. I wonder what he will say. -It will be a big disappointment to him, this. How could I -ever have done it? I don’t understand myself now—it all -seems so ridiculous; to lose control of oneself like that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Blad started.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then—then you didn’t do it on purpose?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good heavens, no! Did you—could you think that of -me? I suppose you fancied it was a new sort of advertising -trick—well, why not?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr—forgive me. But you were so cool about it all—I -never thought....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“All right, never mind. We won’t worry about it any -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>more. I’m dead tired. Stay here tonight, won’t you? I’m -not going to bed; no good trying to sleep. Stay and see me -off; the boat goes at nine. Thanks, that’s good of you. Get -some sleep, if you can, yourself. There’s a lot of things I’ll -want you to do for me while I’m away. Send me—no ... -no, I won’t have any of these things here. You can take -them over—keep what you care about and sell the rest. I -want to forget these years—as far as I can. Though I’ve -learned much in the time—and paid dearly for it. Now I -am going home—going home to Iceland, and then ... what -next, I wonder?”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>It was a bright wintry day when Ormarr, watching from -the captain’s bridge, saw his native land rise snow-clad -from the blue-green sea against a high, clear sky. -The captain noticed that the fur-clad man who had been -up on the bridge since early that morning to get the first -glimpse of land, seemed strangely moved at the sight of it. -Well, it was none of his business....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Never before had Ormarr seen Iceland rising thus out of -the sea; he had but a dim notion of the grandeur of the sight. -Unconsciously, he had always thought of Iceland in the green -of spring or summer, and had looked forward to seeing it so -on his return. Being winter, of course, there would be snow. -But he had never thought to see it all so white and clean -and brilliant as now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A vague joy filled him as he looked; he felt that his soul -was come of the race of those great mountains, as of a line of -kings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Iceland—his country! Like a cathedral, a consecrated -pile of granite, pure and holy in the seas of the far north. -And the snow—how he loved it! And the rocks, the hills -and valleys ... the brooks and streams, sleeping their -winter sleep now, under the ice. And fire too, the marvellous, -merciless fire, smouldering quietly in its lava bed, yet -strong enough to melt the ice of a hundred years in less than -a minute and hurl it in huge floods of boiling water and redhot -rocks and lava down the mountain-side, through the -valleys, out into the sea. What did it care for men, or their -goods or their lives! All had to die. And better to die by -fire or ice than on a bed of sickness. Far better to die young -in some mighty upheaval than to drag palsied bones through -a dreary wilderness of old age.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>Ormarr smoothed his brow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Why think of dying now? He was still young, and fit for -action. Yet if Mother Iceland should think fit to crush him -to his death in her embrace, well, he was ready. Well for -him, perhaps, to find death on her icebound, fiery heart, if the -road of life proved too wearisome.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Strange thoughts—was he mad, after all? He was thinking -now as he had done so often when a child. But his -dreams had changed. Then, Iceland had been the starting-point -of his imaginings; it had been as a weight at his heel, -keeping him in bondage, holding him back from all that he -thought made life worth living. Now it was changed—now -all his dreams turned towards it, centred round it—Iceland -now was his home. Home? No, he had no home anywhere -on earth. Yet he felt drawn towards it none the less; longing -for his country....</p> - -<p class='c004'>But what was this—Iceland—hovering above him, looking -down at him—would she no longer receive him? Was he her -child no more? Had the world worn away the marks by -which his mother had known him?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Foolishness—his brain was running wild. And yet—how -was it with him, after all? Was it not true that he was -unworthy of love—a failure, self-condemned?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Iceland, towering in shining armour, in glittering floes and -spotless mantle of snow. And one coming to her from the -outer world, with the dirt of alien countries on his feet, and -the pain and weariness of the world in his heart. Her sacred -places were no longer open to him now; closed, locked; the -keys hidden far away, not there. Perhaps in the place -whence he had come, perhaps far distant, on some -other continent. Or hidden, maybe, on the other side of -life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Iceland! As he watched the land rise from the cold blue -waves, he felt that he, who once had been her child, was no -longer worthy to be so. He had sinned in coming back at -all. And he vowed in his heart to set out once more in quest -of the key that might unlock its holy places to him once more. -Whatever happened, he must go away again. And if he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>could not find what he sought, then there could be no return. -Only let him first breathe the air here for a little while, tread -the soil that had been his father’s—men who had never -shamed their native land.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again he smoothed his forehead—the movement had become -a habit with him whenever he wished to check or change -a train of thought. And he laughed harshly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, Ormarr Ørlygsson, my friend and brother,” he -thought to himself, “this time you are certainly mad ... -mad beyond cure ... caught in the act—hysteria pure and -simple.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sighed deeply—there was an ache at his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is it?” he thought. “If I go on like this ... if -I let my thoughts and fancies play at will like this, I shall end -as a lunatic: lose all control over myself, and be shut up -somewhere—a pleasant prospect! Or at best, be allowed to -go about at home in a living death: a beast with instincts and -no soul, on the place I was born to rule. And father—to -see his son an object of pity or contempt.... No: I must -get away now, before something happens. Better perhaps -not to land at all, but go on round the coast, and back with the -steamer to Copenhagen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, we shall see. Most likely it would be the wisest -thing to do. On the other hand, it would be cruel to -father....</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Wait and see. Let me at least feel the soil of my own -country under my feet: touch the snow, drink its water, and -breathe its air—satisfy myself that it is not a vision merely, -no fairy tale, but a reality.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the first port Ormarr went ashore. He felt happy as -a child, and laughed and joked with the crew. And when -the boat neared the pier, he waved his hand to the crowd -there, though he did not know a soul among them. They -shrank back a little at the gay familiarity on the part of a -stranger—but Ormarr did not care.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He set out on foot to explore the neighbourhood, a poor -enough place it was. It was only with an effort that he -restrained himself from walking up to the windows of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>little houses and looking in, or knocking at the doors, just -to breathe the atmosphere of a home in his own country.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On an open space some boys were racing about playing -snowballs. This was too much for Ormarr; before he knew -it, he was in the thick of the fight, and in a moment he had -all the lads on top of him. With shouts and laughter they -pelted him from all sides, and ended by fairly burying him -in the loose snow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The boys stood around laughing heartily when at last, -gasping for breath, he emerged; this was a first-rate playmate -that had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Eager -queries were hurled at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A tall, freckled peasant lad came up and asked his name, -others equally inquisitive put their questions without giving -him time to reply to the first. Was he from the steamer just -come in? Where had he come from? From Copenhagen? -What had he been doing there? Was he going on with the -steamer again? If so, he would have to hurry; the second -whistle had already gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And the whole crowd followed him down to the harbour, -two of the smaller boys taking each a hand. When he gave -them some small coin, they decided that he must be the new -Governor at the very least, and felt some tremors at the disrespectful -manner in which they had treated such a personage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As the boat rowed off to the steamer, they stood on the pier -waving their caps, and stayed there, waving and shouting as -the vessel moved off.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr felt unspeakably grateful for this welcome from -his country—a welcome of smiles, and snow, and youth; the -glowing warmth that was in its element amid the biting cold. -He felt himself akin to these lads, with their hands and faces -warm and wet from perspiration and melting snow; who -rolled about in the snowdrifts despite their clothing, braved -the cold and the roughness of the elements, enjoying themselves -in the depth of an arctic winter as well as in any tropical -summer heat. They had no idea of modern precautions -against climate.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There they stood, waving to him, acknowledging him as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>one of their own, never dreaming that he had been about to -drift away into an artificial life that nursed the frailties of the -body regardless of health, until the body became a thing to -loathe, unless the soul itself were cynically hardened.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This was the moment for action, the time to pull oneself -together and decide; here was the way to follow—follow it!</p> - -<p class='c004'>But first of all, to find the right way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr felt now that he could go back to his father. Could -tell him all, confess that he had chosen a wrong path, a way -whereby his body might have passed unscathed, but his soul -never—it was never meant that the two should be divided. -He must rest and think for a while and find a new -road.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once more Ormarr had climbed to the bridge, and remained -there till the steamer touched at the next port. It would be -a couple of days before he could reach home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The day wore away, and night came down, but it was still -quite light. The moon was high, right over the land, its white -glow hovering over the landscape and giving it an air of -unreality, like a spell that held all things in the bonds of -sleep. The ship itself, chained to a silver beam, was the -captive of this enchanted country, for all that it kept on -its course; sooner or later, it seemed, the time would come -when it must crash on a rocky coast.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr turned from the moon, forgetting the base designs -which he had just attributed to its dull red bridge of rays. -He looked at the stars—and suddenly he remembered the -summer nights at home, when he had lain out among the hay -in the fields, unable to draw his eyes from the twinkling -golden points of light.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The northern lights flickered and faded, and showed up -anew; like fiery clouds, appearing suddenly on one horizon, -to vanish in a flaming trail behind another. Ormarr loved -them—their restlessness, their capricious, fantastic shapes, -the play of mood through every imaginable shade of colour—it -was a silent musical display of heavenly fire.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Next day, the captain and Ormarr were alone on the bridge. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>Each was occupied with his own thoughts, and both were -gazing towards the shore.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The captain broke the silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“See there, Hr. Ørlygsson—that ring of mist there round -the peak. Now, mist, I should say, is white as a rule, but -looking at it there, against the snow, it looks just grey.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr made some brief reply; he was studying the face -of the little Danish captain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The latter spoke again:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know if you know this part of the country at -all. When we round that point just ahead, you will see -one of the strangest fjords all round the coast, though that’s -saying a good deal. Rocks sticking up out of the sea, sharp -as needles some of them, and some all tumbled about in -groups; some look like houses, and there are a few that make -gateways, as it were, real arches, that you can take a ship -through if you like.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then we shall be in very soon, I suppose—and up to time -for once.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The little Dane drew himself up stiffly, glanced coldly at -Ormarr, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Begging your pardon, sir, my ship is always up to time.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why, then, it is I who must ask your pardon, Captain -Jantzen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Always excepting pack ice and being hung up by a gale,” -added the captain in a milder tone. “Otherwise, I admit -you’re right about being up to time generally—my ship’s -an exception, that’s all. I put it plainly to the owners: -either give me a time-table that I can keep to, or find another -skipper. It’s a point of honour with me, as you might say. -As a matter of fact, there was another Iceland boat once -came into port on the day fixed—only it was just a month -late.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The captain laughed at his own jest, and Ormarr joined in. -Then Captain Jantzen went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Really, you know, it is a shame that there should be such -a wretched service of steamers in these waters. There are -several companies, I know, but they simply agree that there’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>no sense in competition, so they keep up freights, and run -their ships as they please. You may often have to wait -weeks for a boat, and then find the sailing’s cancelled for -some reason or other. Yes, there’s a chance for a man with -energy and capital, that’s certain.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr started at the other’s words; it was as if a mist -faded from before his eyes; here before him was a chance to -redeem himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned to the captain and looked at him searchingly; -a good man, by the look of him, and with determination in his -face. Suddenly he noticed that the man lacked one finger -on his left hand—strange, Abel Grahl too had lost a finger. -The coincidence seemed to form a bond between himself -and the captain. Fate, perhaps—why not?</p> - -<p class='c004'>He shook his head, smiling at himself for the superstition. -Nevertheless, he asked the captain:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ever taken a turn with Fate, Captain Jantzen?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The captain smiled, a mirthless smile that might have been -a setting of his teeth.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I should think so,” he said, with an air of definite certainty, -as if answering question about a harbour he -knew blindfolded. “And if you haven’t, I’ll give you a bit -of advice: take it by the horns straight away; don’t wait on -the defensive, attack at once. There’s this about it: when -luck favours a man, and he’s sound enough not to get spoiled -by it at once, sure enough, Fate will try to get a foot on his -neck.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stretched out his left hand towards Ormarr, showing -the index finger missing, and went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It cost me that. I was a deck hand on a fishing-boat at -the time, though I knew the sea, and had many a rough turn -with it, and saved more than one from drowning. And -that’s a thing the sea won’t forgive. One day I was alone -on the foredeck, getting the anchor ready, when there was a -hitch in the cable. And then a thing happened that I’ve -never known before or since—my feet slipped sheer away -from under me, as if some one had pulled them. I came -down headlong, and the anchor tore away to the bottom of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>the sea, taking me with it. My finger was caught between -two links of the cable—there was no getting it free. I -thought to myself, ‘Not this time, anyway,’ and managed to -get at my knife, and hacked it off. It didn’t seem to hurt -much while I was in the water—but when I came up—the -men—believe me or not, as you will, but they started back -when they saw my face. I hurried down below—I had a sort -of feeling what it was. And I tell you, sir, there was the -mark of death in my face when I looked; the mark Fate -puts on a man before handing him over. And it was twenty-four -hours before it passed off.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Captain Jantzen laughed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Since then, Fate’s left me alone. Maybe she never found -out how I’d cheated her. And if she has forgotten, why, -maybe I shall live to be an old man after all.” And as if -repenting his levity, the little captain became serious once -more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“All the same, it’s not right to joke about that sort of -thing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had listened with interest to the captain’s story. -When he had finished, he was silent for a moment, then asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How long have you been captain of ‘Bjørnen,’ Captain -Jantzen?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why, it’ll be twelve years this spring.” And in a tone -of some resignation he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It’s not likely I’ll have her for another dozen years. -Though I’d like to. She’s a fine boat, and somehow we sort -of belong to one another. But the owner’s getting on now, -and his health’s not what it might be. And no sons. I fancy -the other shareholders are not quite pleased with things as it -is.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr walked up to the captain, and looking straight at -him, asked abruptly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What about buying them out?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jantzen started, and looked inquiringly at Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I mean it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well—yes, I dare say. It’s a limited company. The -biggest shareholder is the owner—and if any one were to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>buy up all the other shares on the quiet, well, there’s no -saying....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and the captain seemed suddenly to have become -remarkably intimate with each other—so, at least, it seemed -to the others on board.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They remained for a long time in the captain’s cabin, bending -over a map of Iceland, discussing routes, tariffs, and -traffic in a half-whisper. They talked of nothing but how -many vessels and what size would be needed if one company -were to take over the whole of the goods and passenger traffic -between Iceland-Denmark, Iceland-Norway, and Iceland-Great -Britain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was late when Ormarr shook hands with the captain -and went to his bunk, with the parting words:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then the first thing you have to do is to buy up all the -shares on the market. After that, get the old man to sell his -holding—but to me and no one else!”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>The following morning, Ørlygur à Borg was standing on -the borders of his land, deep in thought. He had dreamed a -strange dream the night before, and was trying hard to -remember the details. One thing only stood out plainly in -his memory. He had been standing on this very spot, a -little hill just outside Borg, one day towards the end of summer. -And there he had fought—with what, he could not -say. But it was against something stronger than himself, -something which would overpower him unless Ormarr, his -son, came to his aid. Then suddenly he had seen a viking -ship rounding the point, steering straight up the fjord. The -sight of the vessel gave him new strength; he knew that -Ormarr was coming to help him, and the ship was sailing -faster than any he had ever seen.... Here the dream had -ended abruptly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur stood on the hill, trying hard to recall more of -the vision. As if to aid his memory, he looked out in the -direction of the fjord....</p> - -<p class='c004'>A steamer was rounding the point.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg lost no time; he ran to the stables, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>saddled his horse. He was about to saddle another in addition, -but checked himself—possibly it was only an important -message. Anyhow, instead of mounting, he had a sleigh -brought out, and drove off towards the snow-covered valley -at full speed, reaching the trading station just before -“Bjørnen” came in.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was not a little surprised to find his father among -the crowd of people gathered on the shore. Most of those -present had recognized Ormarr where he stood on the bridge, -and there was a general surprise at his appearance. No one -had expected him. Only his father seemed to regard his -homecoming as natural, and showed no sign of astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was in high spirits and full of pleasant anticipation; -he shook hands right and left. Ørlygur found it hard -to conceal his emotion at the meeting.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr introduced Captain Jantzen to his father, but the -latter spoke only a few words to the captain; he seemed -intent on getting home without delay, where he could have -his son to himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Before taking his seat in the sleigh, Ormarr took the captain -aside:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Remember,” he said, “you must get everything ready -beforehand. First of all, a detailed scheme and tariff rates, -for our calculations. I shall be here all winter. After -that, I am going to England and France, to get the money. -I shall get it, never fear. Anyhow, I shall see you next summer -in Copenhagen. And then we can set to work in earnest. -Be ready for a struggle when the time comes—it will take -some doing, but we can do it. <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir.</span></i>”</p> - -<p class='c004'>On the way out to Borg, the horse was allowed to choose -its own pace; father and son were too engrossed in their talk -to trouble about anything else.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur could not quite understand his son’s attitude towards -music and fame—possibly because Ormarr himself -was loth to lay bare all the trouble of his mind. Moreover, -he felt a different man already, far healthier in mind and -body, after the last few days, as if separated by a wide -gulf from the Ormarr who had left Copenhagen after the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>scandal at the Concert Hall, a broken man, to seek rest and -idleness in his own country.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur could not altogether grasp his son’s changed -attitude towards the question of his musical career, which had -cost ten years of his life and several thousand pounds. But -he thoroughly understood and approved of his new plan for a -better and cheaper and more reliable service of steamers -between Iceland and abroad.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr pointed out the advantage of having an independent -national steamship service, and Ørlygur at once perceived -the possibilities of the scheme for furthering the development -of Iceland commerce and industry. The idea of excluding -other countries from participating here appealed to him, -and gained his entire support for the scheme. The very -thought thrilled the old chieftain’s heart. Ay, they deserved -no better, those slack-minded, selfish traders—they would -only be reaping the results of their own shortcomings. They -should no longer be allowed to monopolize trade, send up -prices, make unreasonable profits, and do what they liked -generally. There would be an end of their ill-found, ramshackle -vessels, coming and going at their own convenience -without the slightest regard for the public or their own advertised -times. It was war—and he rejoiced at it. No question -but that the people of Borg must win in the end.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As they were nearing home, Ormarr said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am going to stay here this winter, father, before I set -out again—Heaven knows how long it may be before I come -back after that. I should like to live to enjoy one more spring -here in Iceland. But after that, I must go abroad; work, -work. It will take best part of the summer, I reckon, to -raise the money—it will need a lot of money.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur gazed thoughtfully at the landscape, and answered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, well—I suppose you are right.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while no sound was heard but the beat of the horse’s -hoofs and the creaking of the sleigh. Then Ørlygur said in a -half-whisper:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—we have some money here, you know, ourselves.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>Ormarr looked at his father keenly, and after a moment’s -thought he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look here, father, I will tell you what I have thought -of doing about the money part of the business. I want to get -the money without offering shares. It will be difficult, I -dare say. But I must be independent here; I cannot bear to -be bound by considerations of credit, or other men’s interests, -and that sort of thing. It would spoil the whole thing. -The business must be my property; I will not have a thing -that can be ruined by others after I have built it up. But -if I should be unable to get the capital in the way I want it—why, -then, I may come to you. Provided, of course, I -can be sure of running no risk in the investment. I owe -you too much already.—My inheritance, you say? I have -not come into the property yet. But suppose we put it that -way; that I owe so much to the estate. Anyhow, I owe it; it -is money that must be paid, if things do not go altogether -against us. For the present, I must fall back on you. But -I shall not want much—nothing like what I have been drawing -up to now. And I am proud that you are willing to -help me, when I know I must have disappointed you by what -I have done up to now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I trust you, Ormarr,” his father said. “I do not quite -understand, but I feel sure you were obliged to act as you did. -The rest does not concern me. I know that you are honest -and sincere, and I know that your aim now is not a selfish -one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a time no more was said; both men seemed anxious to -let it appear that their minds were occupied with anything -rather than with each other. But for all his apparent calmness, -Ormarr was overwhelmed with gratitude to his father; -to the fate that had given him such a father; given him Borg -for his inheritance, and suffered him to be born a son of this -little nation. Ørlygur, on his part, concealed beneath an -expression of indifference a feeling of pride and love for his -son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As the sleigh drove up in front of the house, all the servants -came out to welcome Ormarr, with a heartiness that showed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>plainly enough for all their quiet manner. A tall girl of -about thirteen, with lovely flaxen hair flowing loose about her -shoulders, appeared; this was Gudrun, a daughter of Pall à -Seyru, now adopted by Ørlygur. Ketill was nowhere to be -seen; Ormarr asked where his brother was.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur smiled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you forgotten already? I wrote you in my last -letter that I had sent him to the school at Rejkjavik. He -wants to enter the Church, I understand. And I have been -thinking that it would not be a bad idea later on, if he took -over the living here. If, then, you decide to live abroad, as -seems likely, and give up the estate here, then he could manage -that as well. For the present, I have my health and -strength, and hope to look after it myself for many years. -We shall see.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Of Ormarr’s stay at Borg that winter there is little to be -said. Every Sunday the people of the parish came up to -hear him play the violin. He was delighted to play to them, -and touched at their grateful, almost devotional, reception of -his playing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Spring came. The snow melted, and the rivers sent floods -of muddy water and blue ice towards the sea. A great unrest -came over Ormarr, and he left earlier than he had planned. -So, after all, he missed the soft purity of the Iceland spring, -the beautiful white nights with the glow of light on the -fields and ridges pearled with dew. He missed the sight of -the butterflies fluttering in gaudy flocks, and the birds among -the little hillocks where their nests lay hid.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had already felt the grip of spring at his heart when -he saw the wild swans and other fowl heading for the still -frozen heights farther inland, driving their wedges through -the air, and crying aloud in joy of life. And that same -viking spirit which had driven his fathers before him came -on him now and drove him abroad in haste.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he left Iceland for the second time, his father stood -on the pier with moist eyes. Ørlygur remained there, watching -till nothing was to be seen of the vessel but a few grey -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>wisps of smoke. Then he tore himself away, mounted his -horse, and rode home, deep in thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If his blessing carried any weight, then surely matters -would go well with his son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He slept but ill that night; he was sorry he had not prevailed -upon Ormarr to accept the money from him. It would -have saved much trouble, and, at any rate, a certain amount -of time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If only Ormarr had come to him, rather than procure the -funds he needed from others, and upon doubtful terms....</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The cold, pure light of an autumn morning found the -electric lamps still burning in a villa by the Sound. -It was the residence of Ormarr Ørlygsson, company -director, a man well known in the business world, and -bearer of sundry decorations.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The light shone through the rose-coloured curtains of the -French windows opening on to a verandah facing the sea. -The room was large; the arrangement marked its owner as -a bachelor. It served as office, sitting-room, and study. The -wall opposite the window was occupied entirely by shelves -filled with books: works of reference and lighter literature. -The other walls, each with a heavily curtained door, were -hung with paintings, all representing Icelandic landscapes. -In one corner was a heavy piece of bronze statuary, likewise -Icelandic, “The Outlaw.” The floor was covered with an -Oriental carpet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr sat at the big writing-table, his head buried in his -hands. Lights burned in a crystal globe above his head, and -in a reading-lamp at his elbow. The glow from the green -shade of the latter, blending with the light of day, created a -weird effect.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had been sitting at his desk the whole night, going -through piles of accounts and business papers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For some time he sat thus, motionless. When at last he -looked up, it was plain that thirteen years of work as a business -man had left their mark on him. His face was thinner; -his dark, rough hair was longer than was customary among -men on the bourse, and the fact gave a touch of independence -to his otherwise faultless appearance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His expression was changed; the large, dark eyes were -restless—a dreamy, far-away look alternating rapidly with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>a glance of keen alertness. When alone, his look varied -continually with his varying moods, but in the presence of -others he kept rigid control over his features; the severest -scrutiny could detect nothing of the workings of his mind. -Two deep furrows slanted down on either side the mouth, -completing the impression of resolute firmness combined with -melancholy resignation and bitterness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he looked round the room, his eyes betrayed the trouble -in his mind. He glanced deliberately at each of the things -around him, works of art and furnishings, as if in farewell, -dwelling now and then on some single item as if trying to fix -it in his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Gradually he began to realize that his first impression of -the previous day was correct—he was a stranger in his own -place. And he shuddered at the thought. Unconsciously -he picked up the cable he had received the day before, -smoothed it out before him, and read it over with bitter, -scornful eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What a fool I have been!” he muttered. “I might have -known....” And he laughed—a choking, unnatural laugh, -and rose slowly to his feet. Languidly he drew back the -curtain, opened the window, and stepped out on to the verandah.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Leaning on the railing, he looked out over the shore, with -the troubled sea and the Swedish coast beyond. The view -had calmed him often, but there was no rest in it now; he -looked at it all impatiently, no longer able to find any comfort -in visions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All was changed now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His clothes irked him; his hands were soiled with dust from -the papers he had been busied with; a general sense of bodily -discomfort pervaded him. And as if to escape from his -emotional self, he left the room hurriedly; a bath and a -change of clothes would be something at least....</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>The housekeeper received her master’s orders to serve lunch -on the verandah with some surprise. It was a way of hers -to appear mildly surprised at things and today there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>certainly seemed some reason for astonishment: for thirteen -years her master had never been at home to a meal at that -hour of the day—why was he not at the office as usual? -Ormarr’s manner, however, forebade all questioning, and -she did not venture to ask if anything were wrong.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr went to the telephone, and rung up the office, -speaking coolly enough.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That you Busck? Good morning. Captain Jantzen -there? Morning, Captain.... No, nothing wrong, but something -has happened. Yes ... listen! You must hand over -‘Bjornen’ to the first mate this voyage.... What? Lose -half an hour? Can’t be helped; I want you here. Come -out here at once, please, but first get the chief clerk to tell -you what I want done about the shares, and do as he says. -Then out here to me as quick as you can. I’ll tell you all -about it when you arrive. Right—good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A few minutes later the telephone bell rang. Ormarr took -up the receiver with a gesture of annoyance, but on recognizing -the speaker’s voice, his manner changed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes—yes. Morning, Ketill. Ill? No, not a bit. Are -you both there? Well, come out and have lunch with me -instead. Don’t know what we’ve got in the house, but come -anyway. Eh? No, not a bit. I have been rather busy—up -all night.... No, never can sleep in the daytime. Right, -then. <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir.</span></i>”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill, now getting on for thirty, was already in orders, -and was to be presented to the living of Hof in Hofsfjordur -in the autumn, Sera Daniel being about to retire on account -of age.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The original plan had been that Ketill should have spent a -few days only in Copenhagen when going abroad in the -spring, on his way to Switzerland and Italy, returning <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</span></i> -England. But Ketill, who had preferred staying at an -hotel rather than at his brother’s, had soon found friends, -largely owing to his brother’s introductions. One of the -acquaintances thus made was that of a banker, Vivild, whose -daughter Alma had quickly captured Ketill’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>His tour of Europe, then, came to consist of but a few -short trips, with Copenhagen as his headquarters. Ormarr -had been surprised at this, but his brother gave him no -enlightenment as to the attraction which drew him constantly -back to the capital. Until one fine day Ketill announced his -engagement and forthcoming marriage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had always looked on Alma as a tender plant, that -could never be transplanted and live; the news surprised -him. But he made no comment. Without realizing it himself, -he had been deeply in love with dainty, sweet-natured -Alma, but for no other reason apparently than a sense of his -own unworthiness, had said no word of it to her. And here -was his brother, holding the blossom himself, and tantalizingly -inviting him to admire its sweetness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The part of brother-in-law was by no means a pleasant -prospect to Ormarr, but he reconciled himself to the thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill—Sera Ketill, as we should now call him—was young -and good-looking, with a pleasant and genial bearing. At -times Ormarr could not help feeling that there was something -a trifle insincere in his brother’s geniality. Still, Ketill -was a nice enough fellow to all outward seeming, albeit a trifle -stouter of build than need be.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was never any exchange of confidence between the -two brothers; they knew, indeed, but little of each other. -Ormarr was conscious of an involuntary dislike of Ketill; he -tried in vain to subdue the feeling; it remained unaltered. -Ketill, on the other hand, appeared not to notice any lack -of brotherly love and sympathy. Neither of the two men -realized that Ketill’s nature not only did not invite, but rendered -impossible any real confidence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The first to notice this, albeit but vaguely to begin with, was -Alma. The discovery troubled her a little, but she let it pass.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From all appearances, the union was a promising one, and -the wedding was looked forward to by both parties with -equal anticipation. The ceremony was to take place on the -day before Ketill’s entering upon his new dignity, and the -bride was to accompany him to their new home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma and Ketill arrived at Ormarr’s house half an hour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>after Ketill had rung up. Alma promptly went out to assist -the housekeeper with the lunch.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The brothers, standing by the writing-table in the sitting-room, -lit their cigarettes. Sera Ketill looked with unconcealed -scrutiny at his brother’s face, and with his usual affectation -of heartiness said at once:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, if you’re not ill, you look precious near it. What’s -gone wrong now? Business?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That’s as you like to take it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What do you mean by that? Nothing important, I -suppose.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Important?—well, in a way, it is.” Ormarr passed the -wire across to his brother, who read it through.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, what does it mean?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It means that since yesterday I am—a millionaire.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The devil you are—Heaven forgive me! Well, you are -in luck. How did you manage it? Can’t you tell a fellow -how it’s done? A millionaire!... Well, I’m.... Lord -forgive me! It’s all right, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, it’s right enough.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well.... And What are you going to do now? Extend -the business ... new routes?... If you take my advice, -you’ll be a bit careful. Buy up the land in Iceland—that’s a -sound investment. Buy up Hofsfjordur.... What a -lucky devil!... Lord forgive me!... But what are you -going to do now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, anyhow, you can do things in earnest now. -Monopolize the trade of Iceland. You control the traffic -already; the people know you, and trust you—that’s worth -a lot in itself. They’re not an easy lot to win—that way, but -once you’ve got them ... if you manage things properly, -you’re all right there. Ormarr, you’re in luck. Look at me -now—in orders. And even if I get the estate.... The old -man—father, I mean—he’s getting childish already. Gives -things away—money, live stock, food—you never saw. And -he’s struck off all outstanding debts the peasants owed him—it’s -whittling down the power of Borg to nothing. And -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>we ought to have kept it up. Ever since you paid back the -money you had from him—it wasn’t quite fair to me, you -know, his letting you have all that—but anyhow, since you -paid him back, he seems to think he’s a millionaire, and can -throw money about as he likes. Well, well, I’m fixed up now, -I suppose. But you—millionaire, what are you going to do -now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ll tell you.... No, it’s no use trying to explain....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, yes, go on. What is it? New speculations? I’m -interested in that sort of thing; go on.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, it’s not speculation. I’ve had enough of that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t you believe it! When things turn out like they -have done here. To tell the truth—I’ve been thinking of a -little flutter on my own account. Old man Vivild’s put me -on to a good thing ... but it seems you know the trick of it, -so....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, for Heaven’s sake don’t. Stick to Vivild if you’re -going in for that sort of thing. He’s a sound man, and a -clever one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, well, as you please. But I can’t get over it.... -A millionaire!... the dev—— Lord forgive me!”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>After lunch the three sat together in a corner of the garden—Ketill -and Alma side by side on a bench, Ormarr a little -apart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The conversation flagged somewhat; a few desultory attempts -fell flat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly Ormarr realized that his brother’s manner was -different when Alma was present. He had noticed something -before ... a curious abrupt change of mood, from -lively jocularity to a sort of dreamy, thoughtful silence. -But it had never occurred to him that it was Alma that -brought about the change. Could it be a mask? In any -case, the mask, if mask it were, suited him a great deal better -than his normal appearance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And as he watched them, Alma with her brown hair and -bright dark eyes and Ketill with his heavy face and priestly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>air of calm, a feeling of resentment rose in him against his -brother.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I love coming out here,” said Alma suddenly. “It’s so -different to the atmosphere at home—business.... Ugh.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill smiled. But Ormarr laughed and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I should have thought one would feel more at home in the -atmosphere one grew up in. But, as a matter of fact, you -are wrong about the atmosphere here—it is all business really, -and nothing else.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Father says you are not really a business man. And I -think he is right.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The facts would seem to prove your father wrong, Froken -Vivild.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He says you are—extraordinary. And that you’ve a -lucky sense.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Maybe. It comes to the same thing. I fancy success in -business is largely a matter of luck. Do you know what has -helped me most all along? Well, before I started in business, -I was well known, in a way, from my efforts in another direction. -Not to put too fine a point on it—people believed me -mad. And, consequently, everything I set out to do was -regarded as more madness. It was the best thing that could -have been—and I’m very much obliged to the people who -thought so....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A little later, Ormarr saw his guests to the gate, and stood -watching them as they left, arm in arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A lovely creature,” he thought. “The graceful way she -walks.... But a child, no more. And he—I wonder how -he will treat her. I’m afraid she will have a hard time of -it with him. Perhaps when all’s said and done, she would -have been better off with me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stood watching the dainty figure as it receded, noting -the graceful curves, and the mass of brown hair under the -wide-brimmed hat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A dream,” he mused. “One of life’s lovely -dreams....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He closed the gate and walked up towards the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>“No one to stop it ... life must run its course. <em>I</em> dare -not interfere—I may be wrong. And—in my case, it is too -late now.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>An hour later, Captain Jantzen was sitting in Ormarr’s -room, in his usual place, an arm-chair at one end of the -writing-table.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr passed across a box of cigars, and rang for wine.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Captain Jantzen was obviously ill at ease.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, sir,” he asked, “good news, I hope?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, Jantzen; bad news.” Ormarr hunted out the telegram -he had shown Ketill, and passed it over. Jantzen read -it through hurriedly, and glanced up quickly at Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If I remember rightly, we’re on the right side here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That is so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why, then—we are safe. This gives us a free hand now—we -can cover all outstanding loans, we can out-distance all -competition.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes—and it puts me out of the game, Jantzen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How? I don’t understand....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, I’m afraid you’d hardly understand....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, sir, I confess as much. But there must surely be -something behind this—I don’t see....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Only that victory has put me out of action, that is all. -Ever since I started this thing, it has only been the difficulty -of carrying it through that kept me to it. Now that is disposed -of, I collapse. I can’t live in that fruitful sort of -country where you’ve only to plough and change your crops -now and again—I can’t work at a thing that runs by itself. -It’s not only that it doesn’t interest me; I haven’t the power -of self-deception it requires. I’m perfectly aware of that. -I feel at the moment like a bow that has been strung and -drawn to its limit, and shot its bolt where it should. I’ve no -use for repetition. And, take my word for it, if luck has -favoured me up to now—in business, I mean—it would surely -fail me after this. Once before in my life I have suffered the -defeat of victory. And then, I chanced on you—it was Fate -that led me to a new task; and with it, at the end, a new victory—a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>new defeat. True, the result has been somewhat -different this time. But it comes to the same thing. I have -done with the task—or it has done with me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jantzen watched the speaker’s face intently; he remembered -the pale features of a younger man, who had stood -with tears in his eyes, on the bridge of his vessel, at the first -sight of Iceland from the sea. It was a face he had come to -love—so strong it could be at times, and at times so weak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And a deep despondency, such as he had only known in -lonely watches far at sea by night, filled his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was absolutely calm and unmoved to all appearances; -he seemed to have no regrets. He emptied his glass -and nodded to Jantzen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s no harm done, that I can see. What do you say -to taking over the management yourself, Jantzen?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Impossible. I could never look after a business like that—I’m -not built for it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nonsense, Captain. Don’t tell me you couldn’t run a -line of steamers. The idea! I suppose the truth of it is -you’re unwilling to give up your ship.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That’s true. I’ve captained ‘Bjørnen’ now for five-and-twenty -years.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But the business is more important than a single vessel. -Let’s stick to the matter in hand—the business itself. I -can no longer manage it myself. And you are the only man -I can trust to take over. You must take it over. As for -‘Bjørnen’—we can easily find another man. But if the business -itself were now to pass into the hands of strangers, all -our work will have been in vain; we should, in fact, have done -more harm than good.—I suppose you will say that it is -my duty to carry on. That’s reasonable enough—as long -as the course you propose is possible. But it is not possible -any longer. It is simply this: I can control myself only to -a limited degree; that you may take for a simple fact. And -the limit is reached. What I am to do now I do not know. -First of all, I shall go home—it is long since I was there. -Anything in the shape of rest, or interruption, is dangerous -to me, and that is why I have not been home to see my father -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>for thirteen years. But something tells me that he needs me -now, though I have no idea in what way I can be of use. -Never mind. I am subject to my instincts; to defy them -would be a crime against myself—perhaps against a higher -power. We are both of us somewhat superstitious, you and -I. Anyhow, to come to the point. You, Captain Jantzen, -will now acquire this business by purchase.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Purchase? Now you are joking. I might perhaps -<em>manage</em> the business, if there’s no other way....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That won’t do. You must buy it outright. As to terms, -I shall be your only creditor, and you won’t find me a hard -one to deal with.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—by that arrangement, the management—the business -itself—will be in Danish hands.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where did you learn your trade, Captain? On the coasts -of Iceland—working for a people not your own. And you -will admit that you have more than a little sympathy with -that little island and its people, obstinate though they may be -at times. Also, it would be a good thing for my countrymen -to realize that they need not always look upon the Danes as -enemies.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr took up his glass. “Well, here’s to the venture!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Captain Jantzen’s hand trembled slightly, and he spilt a -few red drops on the costly carpet as he drank.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Since you will have it so, why, let it be. But I’m sorry -about ‘Bjørnen.’”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>One evening towards the end of summer, two people -were seated in the room at Borg which served -Ørlygur as bedroom and sitting-room. They were -an old man, grey-haired and stooping, and a pale-faced young -woman.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The last few years had left their mark on Ørlygur à Borg. -The stately bearing and alertness which had distinguished -him in days gone by, had given place to a listlessness and an -expression of gloom. There was little of the old masterfulness -in the man who sat now on the edge of the bed, staring at the -ruddy flicker of a tallow candle. His eyes were no longer -keen and bright, but dull and spiritless, as at the present -moment, or at times wandering anxiously, as if seeking aid -against some threatening peril.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young woman seated near him was finely built, with -a wealth of flaxen hair, but seemed in ill-health and troubled -in mind. Her whole bearing was one of resignation and despair. -Her eyes were red with weeping; dark rings showed up -beneath them from the pallor of her cheeks—the signs of -restless nights and sad thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Twelve strokes from the big upright clock broke the silence, -and startled Ørlygur from his musings. He glanced at the -bowed form of the woman, and then at a letter which lay on -the table.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once more he conned the sentence which had brought such -pain to himself and his adopted daughter—as if to make sure -there had been no mistake. No, it was right enough: “I -am engaged to a girl I met here this summer ... Alma ... daughter of.... Married in a fortnight, just before I -leave, so you can expect us both....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The letter was from his son Ketill.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>And there, before him, sat the woman that same Ketill had -ruined—and her state would soon be evident to all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Some time back the girl’s pale face and mournful bearing -had moved Ørlygur to question her, and he had learned the -cause from her own mouth. Runa, as she was called by all -on the place, was at least as deeply attached to Ørlygur as -to her real father, Pall à Seyru. And it had not been difficult -for her to confide in him. The truth had come as a terrible -shock to the old man, but both had consoled themselves with -the thought that Ketill at least had no intention of leaving -her thus betrayed; that he would behave as an honourable -man. If not—why, Ørlygur would see that he did so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But now, all unexpectedly, that consolation was destroyed, -leaving a dark future indeed ahead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa’s trouble was not the only thing he had to bear; there -were other matters that seemed to bode no good. And all -were more or less connected with his son Ketill; Ketill, who -was to inherit the estate and maintain the honourable traditions -of Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To begin with, things had looked well enough; excellent, -indeed, in every way. The estate had grown richer since -Ormarr had repaid the loans made to him, and the whole trade -of the district was in the hands of Ørlygur’s trusted men. -The place was flourishing—thanks largely to Ørlygur’s magnanimity -in cancelling debts that proved too much of a burden—and -the general state of affairs was healthy and promising. -Then, in addition to the good name which Ketill would inherit, -there was his position in holy orders. Altogether, the -outlook for the family was one of dignity and honour.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now, things looked otherwise. Some months before, -Ørlygur had begun to learn something of Ketill’s true nature; -his selfishness and meanness; to hand over the estate to him -seemed less advisable now than he had thought. Still, it -should doubtless be possible to make him realize the duties -and responsibilities of his position; to persuade him on -matters where any danger threatened.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the new development had raised an issue of a far more -serious character. Once it were known abroad that the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>master of Borg—as Ketill in time would be—had deliberately -ruined a young girl,—a girl, moreover, under the protection -of his father’s roof,—and had thereafter married another, -probably for selfish considerations also, then the good name -of the family, jealously guarded and built up through centuries, -would be destroyed as by a flood. It seemed as if the -fortunes of Borg were on the verge of ruin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur thought of these things—and the idea of disinheriting -Ketill, at any rate as regarded succession to the estate, -crossed his mind. If only he himself could be sure of living -long enough, then he might perhaps make Runa or her child -his heir. The child would after all be his own grandchild, -with the blood of his race in its veins.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But as he sat, his thoughts and plans faded to mere dreams -and aimless desires. The future was too hard for him to face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa sat trying to pray, her lips moving without a sound, -to frame the opening sentence of the Lord’s Prayer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man she had loved was far away in a foreign land—at -that very moment, perhaps, he held another woman in his -arms.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Our Father....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had sworn that he loved her. Neither had spoken of -marriage—she had not spoken of it because she had never -doubted him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Our Father which art....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had never written to her—not a line. It was a cruel -blow to her to realize that he had never loved her—and yet -she bore within her the seed of life he had planted. And her -whole future now was ruined and desolate....</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Our father....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But she could not pray. A flood of thoughts streamed into -her mind—memories of mild spring evenings in the past and -fears for her present position in one confusion. Her brain -could not set either prayer or thought into form.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur rose and came over to her; he tried to comfort her, -but found no words. One thing only he knew: reparation -must be made, at whatever cost.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill was far from pleased to learn that his brother -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>was returning to Iceland on the same boat with himself and -his bride. Something told him that it would be to his interest -to keep his father and Ormarr apart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill had come to regard himself as heir to the estate by -this time, and already saw himself installed at Borg. He -never dreamed that Ormarr’s present journey, which he regarded -as merely a flying visit, could prove in any way a -danger to himself and his plans. Ormarr had told him -nothing of the transfer of the business. At the most, thought -Ketill, it would be a nuisance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His elder brother was in many ways much like his father. -Both seemed eternally to regard themselves as owing a duty -to all and sundry—simply because they happened to have been -born in better circumstances than most of those around them. -Ketill thought himself sufficiently a man of the world to be -able to destroy this conviction; and he was not far from -regarding it as a childish weakness on the part of Ørlygur and -Ormarr. Regard for others, indeed!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill was not hampered severely by trammels of faith or -morality. He had gone to a school where the general rule of -conduct seemed to be each for himself; his studies at college -had brought him among students who for the most part made -little attempt to conceal the fact that they made light of their -calling. One after another, he had seen them go out into the -world as priests, in the service of God, spiritually defective, -rotten, and corrupt, to their task of leading others by the -right way. And all this had left him with but little respect -himself for his mission; he enrolled himself with the rest, as -a matter of course.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His latest idea was nothing less than to buy up the whole -of Hofsfjordur. To own a whole parish—it would be a -position of unique power and authority. Priest and sole -landlord of the place. And then he could take over the business -now run by Jon Borgari’s widow under Ørlygur’s supervision. -It was a dazzling scheme.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was enraged when he heard that his father had cancelled -the debts owing to him by the peasants. Carefully handled, -they would have made a splendid weapon. And he puzzled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>his brains for some way whereby he might—when his father -had gone—render the old chieftain’s action null and void.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr’s return now was a serious blow to his plans. He -had more than once hinted to Ormarr that Ørlygur was getting -strange in his manner and actions of late, and it had been -in his mind that afterwards he could break the sad news to his -brother that their father had towards the end been not altogether -responsible for his actions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But now Ormarr would see his father for himself, and there -was no prospect of carrying out that part of the plan. Moreover, -it was likely that Ormarr and Ørlygur, in their talks -together, might bring out several little matters not at all to -his advantage, and seriously damage his prospects. He must, -at all events, try as far as possible to be present whenever the -two seemed disposed to talk over things generally. He had, -of course, given orders for the vicarage to be set in order -ready for his arrival, but he could doubtless stay under his -father’s roof for a time on his return, without giving cause -for comment.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr’s arrival with the newly married couple was -altogether unexpected. Ørlygur was greatly moved, and -embraced his son with tears in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was deeply touched when he saw how his father -had aged. He thanked the Fate that had led him to throw -up his work and come home. Also, it seemed that his coming -was well timed; for he was quick to note the strained relations -between his father and Ketill, though the reason was not at -first apparent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur received his younger son with marked coolness, -but spared no pains to make his welcome as cordial as possible -to his daughter-in-law.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill’s idea of making a stay at Borg to begin with was -promptly shattered. Ørlygur had guessed his intention, and -soon after the midday meal, went out himself to see that horses -were saddled. On re-entering the room, he acquainted Ketill -of the fact, and added: “You will want to show your wife -over the new home before it gets dark.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>The hint was too direct to be disregarded; there was nothing -for it but to go with a good grace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the pair had left, Ormarr and his father sat alone in -the sitting-room. And now for the first time Ormarr perceived -how troubled in mind the old man was. He paced up -and down the room, and for some time Ormarr forbore to -question him. It was hard for Ørlygur to commence, but at -length he pulled himself together, and spoke in a weak and -faltering voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr, you should have been my only son. It would -have been better so. I am paying dearly for my disregard -of the warning. Had I not been so self-willed, maybe your -mother would have been alive now, and your life would have -been very different. Not that I’ve anything to reproach you -with, no....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr grasped his father’s hand, and pressed it. The -old man turned his head away, and went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is hard to see a thing one had treasured with heart and -soul brought to ruin; to die, and leave an inheritance of -responsibility behind. Ormarr, do you remember Pall à -Seyru’s little girl?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Runa? Yes, indeed. Why have I not seen her this time? -I hope she is not very seriously ill?” Ormarr had inquired -after her on his return, but had simply been told that she was -not well.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur hesitated for a moment. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Runa has been betrayed—by your brother.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr started as if struck, and his face paled. His -father’s hand slipped from his grasp, and the two men sat -for a while in silence. When at last they spoke, it was of -other things.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” said Ørlygur thoughtfully, “there are many things -that will trouble me if the estate goes to Ketill. I have an -idea that he thinks of collecting the debts I wrote off for the -people here some time back, as still due to the estate. The -folk do not trust him, and have certainly no love for him. If -the place—and the honour of the family—are left to him.... -I could wish them in better hands.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>“But I have come home now, father.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked questioningly at his son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—you will not be here very long? Your business....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have sold it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sold the fleet? To whom?” Ørlygur flung out the question -with evident anxiety in his voice, and looked keenly at -his son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“To Jantzen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ah—that is another thing. You can trust him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“As I could myself, or you, father.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I thought so, or you would not have sold to him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I had to sell out, because we had succeeded in our aim, -and there was no longer any need for me to continue. I could -not go on. Once I have mastered a thing, when the element -of uncertainty and contest—apart from what is obtainable -by all—has gone, then I can work at it no longer.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you will take over the estate here?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. That is—or will be—a task for me; something that -others could not do as well. You are old now, father, and -your last years should be lived in peace. I may be a little -strange here, at first, still, I can feel that I have come home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Father and son sat in the growing darkness without thought -of needing lights. Each wanted to know all about the other’s -life during the years since they had last been together. -Ormarr also was keenly concerned to learn about matters in -the parish, who had died and what newcomers were to be -reckoned with; there were a hundred questions to be answered. -Ørlygur, on his part, was eager to hear of his son’s doings -during those years, for Ormarr had said but little in his -letters.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is nothing to tell,” he said now. “I have worked -hard—slaved at the work—beyond that, nothing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You are yourself again now—or at least recognizable as -yourself,” said Ørlygur. “Changes there are, of course, but -mostly in your looks only. Voice, and eyes, and expression -have not changed. I have noticed sometimes you smile just -as you used to do—it is very long ago now. They have been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>weary years, since your mother and you seemed so far away—sometimes -you too seemed as far off as your mother in her -grave. But I see you have been true to yourself all the time. -And I am glad you have come home. I thank you, Ormarr. -And I thank God for sending you back to me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was dark now, but still no lights were lit. The house -was silent; nothing heard save when one of the two men spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They talked on, fitfully, springing from one thing to -another. But for all their frankness and sincerity, there -was evidently something that preyed on both their minds.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last Ørlygur brought up the matter himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Worst of all is that about poor little Runa.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr rose, walked to the window, and stood drumming -with his fingers on the panes. Then, as if ashamed of having -shown feeling, he returned to his seat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Runa?... Yes. No one must know what has happened. -We cannot have <em>her</em> dishonoured. For him I have no pity, -except for the sake of his wife. She is a good little soul, -father, and we must be kind to her. But Runa ... father, -I know what I must do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was silent. A strange stillness seemed to fill the -room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I suppose you are right,” said Ørlygur at last. “There -is not any one else...?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr rose. “No, there is no one else,” he said shortly, -and he lit the lamp.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur took a candlestick with a stump of candle in, lit -it, and kissed his son’s forehead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-night, Ormarr,” he said quietly. “I am going to -bed now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he passed Runa’s bed, the light fell on two wakeful, -shining eyes. Making sure that none of the others in the -room were awake, Ørlygur bent down and kissed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t be afraid, little Runa. Ormarr has something to -say to you in the morning.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr sat on, staring at the windows, long after his father -had gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>His own calmness surprised him. He felt as if he were -playing himself as a pawn on the board of life—and yet he -could play—and let himself be played—willingly enough. -Neither he nor his father had considered Runa’s possible -wishes in the matter. Ormarr smiled as the thought struck -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But, in any case, her honour must be saved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A drowsy weariness came over him. How empty life was, -after all! What had he, himself, got out of it in return for -all his labour? His years of work had been for the benefit -of others. But was his work of any great importance, after -all? There had been a time when he had thought only of -fame and pleasure. Then he had seen that there were other -things more worth regard. At first he had regarded the -domains of love as sacred and inviolable, but after a time -had plunged recklessly across the border. And since then -he had always regarded himself as one who could never hope -to meet with his heart’s desire, his ideal. The whole question -of love seemed one of but slight importance to him thenceforward. -And he had been occupied with other things.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It all came back to him now, as he thought of his brother’s -relations with his old-time playmate, the fair-haired child -whom he had known later as a tall, bright-spirited girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And now he was to marry her. She was a woman now—and -his brother had betrayed her. It was a thing that had -to be, for her honour’s sake and that of the family name. -His brother’s child would be brought up as his. He was -to marry, and his wife would bear a child—another’s -child.</p> - -<p class='c004'>How strangely the threads of life were woven! Well, after -all, why not? It mattered little—nothing really mattered. -What would the child be like? he wondered. Boy or girl? -And what was the mother like? Again, it did not matter -much.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Anyhow, this must be the last phase—the final stage of his -life. It must end as it had begun—at Borg. Like his forefathers, -he was fated to be a link in a chain, rather than an -individual.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>Only it meant now that all his dreams of something greater -and better were at an end.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He glanced up and saw that it was light outside; the moon -had come out from behind a hill. Moved by a sudden impulse, -he took his hat and coat and went out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sky was cloudy, semi-darkness and bright moonlight -alternating in quick succession; the earth looked cold and -forbidding under a heavy frost, with the streams showing -up as dark lines through the white.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr took a path he knew, leading to Borgara, where -as a lad he had guarded the wool by night. Leaning against -a rock, he stood, letting thoughts and fancies play through -his mind at random. The happenings of the day, the revelations -he had heard, seemed more like a dream than any reality.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Runa lay wakeful long through the night. Ormarr’s -unexpected return had thrown her into a state of confused -emotion. The simultaneous arrival of Ketill seemed but of -minor importance, though why this should be so, she could -not have told herself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She remembered Ormarr from his last visit home, and how -she had felt drawn to him at the time. He, on the other hand, -had not paid much attention to her, and was doubtless unaware -of the impression he had made. To her, he was the -greatest and best, the most wonderful of men; an ideal, inaccessible, -but nevertheless to be worshipped.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then he had gone away—vanished as suddenly as he had -come, to live thenceforward only as a dream in her heart. -And she was firmly convinced that he had never given her -a thought. In this, as a matter of fact, she was right.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On learning of his arrival now, she had tried in every way -to avoid him, to conceal herself from him. All the others -might know, but Ormarr—no, that was too cruel. And now—he -would learn it soon enough. His father would tell him, -and he would know what she was—the very thought of it -made her shudder. She was not what she appeared to be; -she was nothing. She hated Ketill, and wished herself dead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The thought of taking her own life had crossed her mind, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>but fear restrained her. Now the thought came up again, -and when Ørlygur had whispered to her as he passed, whispered -a thing she dared not understand, she made up her -mind. There was no fear in her heart now, she had taken her -decision.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Shortly after Ørlygur had retired, she rose up, dressed -herself noiselessly, and crept along the passage towards the -room where Ormarr slept. A light showed from beneath -the door; evidently he was still awake. With bated breath -she passed by, and crept from the house without a sound. -She longed to look in through the window, just to see what -he looked like—now. But she dared not risk it. She stepped -cautiously and quietly until a little way from the house, then -suddenly she broke into a run, and made away towards the -place she had in mind....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr saw a woman come rushing down towards the river. -His first impulse was to run towards her, but, realizing that -she must pass close by where he stood, he remained motionless, -waiting.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman checked her pace and stood for a moment with -hands clasped to her breast. Then she bent down and, taking -up one of the sacks that were strewn around, began filling it -with stones. She felt its weight, and, apparently satisfied, -tied up the mouth. No sound came from her lips.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In a flash Ormarr realized who it was, and what she had -in mind. He saw her move down to the water’s edge, the -sack in her hand. Then, rising, he called to her softly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Runa!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl stood still as if paralysed. He walked up to her -without a word; he did not look at the sack, but touched it -as if by accident with his foot, sending it into the water. -Then, taking the girl’s arm, he led her quietly back to the -house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He took her to his room, led her to a seat and sat down -beside her, taking her hands in his and stroking them tenderly. -The girl’s breast heaved; she was deadly pale, but she made -no sound. So unexpected had been Ormarr’s intervention -that she had hardly realized as yet what had happened.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>Ormarr held her hands in his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Poor child, it is hard for you, I know. Life is hard. I -have learned something of that myself. Poor child, poor -child! But, Runa, you must trust me ... will you try? -I will be kind to you. Perhaps, after all, you may be glad -of the child and I as well. For we must marry, you know; -it is the only thing to do. But only as a matter of form, of -course, to save a scandal. The child will be born in wedlock, -and it will be understood to be mine. No one knows anything -as yet; we can go abroad at once, and stay away a year or so. -It is not what you had wished for, I know, not what you had -a right to expect, but—there is no other way now. As far as -<em>he</em> is concerned it is too late.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa burst into tears, and sat weeping silently, with -scarcely a movement of her face; but her breast heaved -violently, and the tears poured down her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I know, dear child, it is hard for you; you love him, and -me you neither know nor care for.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl drew back her hands and wiped her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hate him,” she said, almost in a whisper. And a moment -after, she added passionately, defiantly. “And I never -loved him at all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She threw herself face downwards over the table, sobbing -bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr left her to herself for a while. Then going over -to her, he stroked her hair, and tried to comfort her, as one -would with a child. And when she looked up, there was a -light in her eyes, of gladness, as when a child meets kindness -from one it loves and respects.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears rose to Ormarr’s eyes; the thought crossed his mind -that she might at that moment be wishing the child were his. -And a pang of vague longing passed through him, such as he -had known at times when life had seemed empty for the lack -of one thing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As if by one accord, the two avoided each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then resolutely Ormarr threw off his shyness, as if it were -a thing to be ashamed of. He went straight to her, and spoke -as calmly as he could—though his voice quivered a little.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>“Runa, there is nothing else to be done. You must be my -wife.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” she answered. There was nothing of bitterness -or regret in her voice. But she fell to crying again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then said Ormarr: “You will be mistress of Borg, you -know, and that means a big responsibility, and much to look -after.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She had stopped crying now, and was evidently listening, -though she still hid her face. Ormarr went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have finished my work abroad now. When we come -back from our journey, we shall take over the management -of Borg. Father is old, and needs rest. And then it will be -for us to see that our child is so brought up that we can leave -the place in good hands after us.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa sat for a while without speaking; she had stopped -crying now. Then she rose, and carefully dried her eyes to -leave no sign of weeping, and murmured something about it -being time for her to go. And then tears came into her eyes -again, and she blushed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had opened the door, but closed it again and came -towards her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well,” he said, “don’t you think we might shake hands -and consider it settled? That is, unless you would rather -have time to think it over? We could at least promise to -give each other the best we can....” Ormarr could hardly -speak, so deeply was he moved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa gave him her hand—a warm, trembling hand. He -pressed it, and let her go.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the door had closed behind her, Ormarr began slowly -undressing, thinking aloud, as was his wont.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If life is really only a tiny meaningless flicker, and death -the eternal and constant state, if life is only little indifferent -momentary things, and death the great and boundless, then -why all this complication and suffering? If my soul could -perish, could be destroyed by suffering like the smoke of -wood consumed by fire, like the scent of a flower shed out into -space, like a colour that fades in strong sunlight, then it -would surely have become disintegrated long since. Or are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>we all figures on a stage? If there were any connecting -string between myself and the gods above, I fancy I should -make a first-rate marionette.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He put out the light and got into bed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is just like me to try and conceal my thoughts from -my innermost self, to breathe a philosophical mist over the -windows of my own mind. If I were to be honest now, I -should have to confess something different. Be honest for -once? And confess! Confess that a new, inexplicable joy -had suddenly welled forth within me!</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Just because I have seen the flush of a soul turned -towards my own. And here I am already building castles -in the air, with golden towers of great anticipation. But, -to be honest, I must build here and now, whether I will or -not, and trust that the building may stand.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The moonlight shone in over him; he turned his glance -towards it and looked up smiling at the sad, wry face, nodded -to it, and then turned over on his side and fell asleep.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span> - <h2 class='c007'>BOOK II<br /> <span class='large'>THE DANISH LADY AT HOF</span></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Fru Alma had come to Iceland knowing nothing of -the language of the country. Ketill and his brother -had always spoken Danish; it had never occurred to -her that all Icelanders might not understand it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When she came to Borg on her first arrival, and met her -father-in-law, who could neither understand her nor speak -to her, she realized that this ignorance on her part would -make her lonely and isolated, and she asked her husband:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why did you not teach me Icelandic, Ketill?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Ketill answered curtly. He was in ill-humour on -account of the failure of his first plans, and his reception -generally.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Never thought of it,” was all he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma, whose womanly instinct had told her at once that -all was not as it should be among the family, glanced anxiously -from one to another of those round her. Then she -observed:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But I can’t talk to any one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You can talk to me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was silent. It was the first time her husband had -spoken unkindly to her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Later on, as they went home to Hof, Ketill rode in silence, -with never a word to his wife all the way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma’s heart was full of conflicting emotions. She was -sorry that there should be any coolness between herself and -her husband; but her conscience at least was clear. And -why could he not talk to her; tell her what it was that evidently -troubled him? It struck her that he had never really -confided in her, save in regard to matters of no account.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly she realized that they were really strangers. She -had never really known him, after all; he had never opened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>his heart to her. And the distance between them seemed -so tangible that it was hard to realize that they were actually -married. Despite the intimacy of their relationship, they -were separated by a veil of darkness and uncertainty. And -so they were to live, side by side, year after year, bound one -to another by a bond that could not be broken,—ay, and by -another that would soon be evident,—to live in each other’s -company through every day. And the thought was so painful -to her that she found herself unwilling to contemplate that -her children would have to call this man their father.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The change in her feelings, or more properly, her sudden -realization of the true state of things, the recognition of her -thoughtless rashness in entering upon this marriage, came to -her as something overwhelming; she hardly knew herself. -All in a moment she was changed; she was no longer the -light-hearted, innocent girl, but a creature unknown, with -unknown possibilities.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was done now, and she was helpless. She had given -vent to thoughts and feelings which, as her old self, she -would never have dreamed of. So unaccustomed was she to -act on the dictates of her own feeling and not by custom and -tradition, to measure things by her own ideas and not by -orthodox, accepted standards, that she felt herself now a -dangerous person, a criminal, forced to seek refuge in silence -and emptiness from words or thoughts that might lead to -disaster.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was her husband now, riding ahead, and paying no -heed to how she managed on the way. Where was the courteous -gentleman who had stood by her side at the altar? -And she had told herself—and others—that she had found -the ideal partner for life! A priest, moreover, a servant of -God, set in the forefront of humanity as an example to others!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Little by little she worked herself up to a state of bitter -scorn. Once she had let herself go, she knew no bounds.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And she did not spare herself, now that she had once ventured -to form her own judgment of things and people, herself -included.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Oh, what an irresponsible fool she had been in her self-deception! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>Trustful and idealistic—yes, and narrow-minded -and unwittingly a hypocrite. A doll, a child, a foolish butterfly -thing.... Heavens, how little and mean and stupid, -wicked and ridiculous, she had been—she and so many others -of her kind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was her husband, riding ahead ... yes....</p> - -<p class='c004'>A reaction of regret at her impetuosity came over her. It -was a dreadful thing not to love and honour him. Oh, if -only he would make it easier; turn round and nod to her -kindly, or say a friendly word. She would be loving and forgiving -at once. Who could say what troubles were burdening -him all the time? And perhaps it was only to spare her that -he said nothing. Men were strange in that way; they fancied -that a woman suffered less in such estrangement if she did not -learn the cause of it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then—oh, it was incredible! They were at the ford now, -and he was riding through the stream without so much as a -look behind him.... Well, perhaps there was nothing so -strange in that, after all; possibly it had not occurred to him -that she had never forded a stream on horseback in her life; -it was only thoughtlessness on his part.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But all the same it was a hard struggle to keep her mind -in any friendly attitude towards him, or to keep back the fears -that would rise to her eyes. She bit her lips, and strove to -restrain her feelings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her horse was already knee deep in the water—and the -Hofsa at this part was wide, yet with a fairly strong current.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma had never ridden through running water before; at -first it seemed to her as if the horse had suddenly flung itself -sideways against the stream. Instinctively she leaned over -herself, farther and farther, against the stream. Ketill, a -couple of lengths in front, looked round just as she was about -to fall, turned his horse, and seized her arm just in time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The roar of the water, and a sense of dizziness in her head, -rendered her unconscious for the moment. But the grip on -her arm was hard, and a feeling of anger rose in her towards -her husband. Again she restrained herself; it was perhaps -only his firmness that had saved her; she forgot about his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>carelessness in riding ahead of her across the ford. Her -kindly feelings were uppermost, and as soon as they had -crossed to the farther bank, she turned to him, trying honestly -to speak in a friendly tone, and asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is it, Ketill; what is the matter with you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nothing—nothing,” answered Ketill, and gave his horse -a cut with the whip, so that the animal sprang forward a pace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At that, Alma broke down entirely, and fell to sobbing -helplessly; she was weary and desperate, unable to think, or -even consciously to feel; she was alone in a great solitude, -herself a solitary speck of misery in an endless expanse.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>They reached the vicarage. Alma was now in a state of -dull indifference. She had, however, carefully dried the -tears from her face, and drawn down her veil.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The vicarage servants, about a score in all, had gathered -in front of the house to welcome the new master and his wife. -Ketill was abrupt and reserved as hitherto; he shook hands -with them all, as was the custom of the country, but his greeting -was cold and formal.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Somewhat unwillingly, Alma laid her slight, warm hand -in the first hand outstretched towards her; but the evident -respect and kindly feeling with which it was taken touched -her at once, and she grasped it with sincere feeling. And -the ice once broken, she was able to greet each of the -simple, silent folk with unfeigned heartiness. She could not -understand their stammered words, but her own manner -spoke for itself, and one old woman, the last to come forward, -was so touched by the natural kindliness of the fine lady -from foreign parts, that she forgot herself so far as to -put one arm around her shoulder and kiss her on the -cheek.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma felt herself trembling, and could hardly restrain -her tears. Leaning on the old woman’s arm, she passed into -the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill gave some brief orders, and the servants dispersed. -But even this first encounter had been enough to plant in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>the heart of each of them a seed of ill-will towards their -master, and affection towards the Danish lady he had -brought with him as his wife.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>The old woman led Alma into the low-ceilinged sitting-room -and left her. Neither could understand the other’s -speech, and she had judged it best to retire.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma sat down on a chair just inside the door, still wearing -her riding-habit and veil, and looked round the room. -It was painted white, with four heavy beams across the ceiling. -The two windows at one end of the room were already -hung with heavy winter curtains above the white. The furniture -was of polished mahogany. The floor was carpeted, and a -heavy old-fashioned stove was built into the centre of one -wall. A big upright clock ticked monotonously, with a beat -as cold and devoid of feeling as the utterance of a philosopher -whom nothing on earth could move. There was a sense -of comfort about the general atmosphere of the room, yet it -had, as is often the case with rooms antiquely furnished, a -touch of aloofness, forbidding the introduction of any other -tone, or at least dominating others by its own.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Close to one of the windows Alma noticed a large writing-table -and a bookshelf; that seemed familiar. And suddenly -she realized that the room was to be not hers alone, but her -husband’s also. Probably he had no study of his own in the -house. And a feeling of bitterness crept into her heart; the -room seemed less inviting now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She rose, and crossed to the window farthest from the -writing-desk, where there stood a small work-table. Here -she sat down in an easy-chair, still without taking off her -things, and looked out of the window. Outside was a small -plot of potatoes and turnips, hedged in with the remains of -a rhubarb bed, against the high bank which sheltered the -garden on the north. The windows faced south-west, looking -on to the bleak, high field beyond the enclosure. Behind -the vicarage towered the Hof Mountains, hanging threateningly, -as it were, above the place; farther in the distance were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>blue-grey peaks and ridges. It was all so strange to her that -now, looking at it calmly, it seemed unreal, incredible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma turned cold at heart as she looked. She remembered -her first survey of the landscape earlier in the day, from Borg; -she had found nothing green in it all save the sea. All the -meadows and pastures round the house seemed withered and -grey; the autumn green of the fields in Denmark was nowhere -to be seen. All things seemed barren and decayed, with -a grey pallor, as it were, of something nearing death, that she -had seen before only in aged humanity. Here, she perceived, -autumn was a reality, and not merely a passing phase to be -taken lightly. Most of the houses, small and low, were built -of turf and stone together. And the separate buildings of -each homestead seemed to creep in close to one another, keeping -as close to the ground as possible, like a flock of animals -cowering before an approaching storm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The impression it made on her then, of impending disaster, -of something evil lying in wait, had vanished as quickly as -it had come; she had not had time to dwell on it. But -now it recurred to her mind, and she felt herself surrounded -by coldness and enmity on all sides—until she remembered -the greetings of the servants, and the old woman who had ushered -her in to the house. The kindness they had shown to her, -alone and helpless as she was, seemed like a protecting circle -round her. And easier in mind for the thought, she fell to -pondering how she could best learn their language quickly, -that she might at least find some kind words for them in return.</p> - -<p class='c004'>While she was thus engaged, her husband entered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She glanced at his face; anxious first of all to learn if he -were still in the same ill-humour as before. The light was -fading, but she could see that his expression was cold and -hard, that of a stranger. Her heart beat violently; she sat -without a word.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill hardly gave her so much as a glance; he walked up -and down the room once or twice, as if in thought, then stood -by the window farthest from her, looking out. After a while, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>he drew a deep breath, and came towards her. His brow -was lined, and his face stern, but there appeared nevertheless -to be some attempt at friendliness in his bearing—as if to -show that she at least was not the cause of his ill-temper.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well here we are, at home!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma’s heart throbbed painfully, but he did not notice her -emotion—only that she had not taken off her riding -things.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Haven’t you got your things off yet?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have not bidden me welcome yet, Ketill.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, I forgot. Never mind, don’t worry about that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, no.... Forgotten, did you say? Ketill, I hardly -know you again.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Whatever do you mean by that? One can’t always be -in the best of tempers, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No, perhaps not. But—it seems a strange homecoming, -that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill was silent. He had no reply to offer, and the conversation -bored him. He was curiously indifferent to Alma’s -feeling of well-being or the reverse. What was she, after -all? A child, thoughtless, ignorant, like all women—and -most men too, for that matter. She was out of sorts just -now—never mind, she would have forgotten it by tomorrow. -At any rate, he could make it all right again then; perhaps -he might feel more in the mood for paying attention to her -troubles. Ketill was thinking in this strain when Alma spoke -again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is strange that you should be so different now, all at -once. It almost seems as if our marriage had separated us -rather than brought us together.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill had no time now to bother about whether there were -any truth in this or not: no, the only thing to do was to smile -in a superior fashion and not let himself be put out. And he -smiled accordingly, the self-satisfied smile of a priest and a -model husband, setting aside his bad temper for the moment, -and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“There, there, little philosopher—let us put off the quarrel -till another day.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Quarrel? Oh, I had never thought to quarrel. I’m only -unhappy, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, don’t you think it might be reasonable to imagine -that I had some reason for being—well, not in the best of -tempers today—what?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, indeed, Ketill. But you have told me nothing; I -know nothing of what could have upset you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, hardly. Women don’t understand men’s troubles -as a rule.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That seems a new sort of thing for you to say.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Possibly. We’ve hardly known each other long enough -for me to have told you everything I think.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“True, we have not known each other so very long. I only -hope we may not find we knew too little of each other.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill laughed; to his mind, the question was not worth taking -so seriously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, you’ve certainly grown less of a child and more -of a woman—more of a married woman—than you were.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Alma found it utterly impossible to fall in with his -tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am tired, Ketill. I should like to go to bed.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Already! Well, well, perhaps it’s the best thing you -could do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He walked to the door, opened it, and called down the -passage: “Kata!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old woman who had first shown Alma in, answered his -call, and Ketill charged her briefly to show her mistress upstairs; -she was unwell, and would go to bed at once.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata led her mistress to the bedroom above. She could -not overcome the awkwardness caused by the impossibility of -speech, but did her best to make up for it by kindly looks and -gestures.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She would have withdrawn again at once, but Alma held -her back, made her sit down on a chair by the bed, and tried -to talk to her, repeating little phrases again and again till -they were understood. Kata seemed willing enough, and did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>her best to understand; she would have liked to explain that -she and all the others had already taken to their new mistress, -and were anxious to do all they could for her. It was a marvel -to Kata that a fine lady could be so natural and sweet and -condescending. All that she had seen before of that sort -had been proud and stiff and disdainful towards humble -folk.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She tried to relate a dream she had had the night before -about a burning light washed up by the waves, on the shore -just below. Old Kata was a poor enough creature to look at, -but by no means poor in spirit. She had her own world of -visions and dreams, and was mistress there. And she would -not speak to all and sundry of her dreams; but folk knew -she had the gift, and could see what she would and learn what -she pleased.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata was sure that the light she had seen was the <i><span lang="nn" xml:lang="nn">fylgje</span></i>, -the attendant spirit, of the young Danish lady. Kata always -saw a person’s <i><span lang="nn" xml:lang="nn">fylgje</span></i> before she encountered the person in -reality, and she had rarely seen so beautiful a <i><span lang="nn" xml:lang="nn">fylgje</span></i> as this. -For what could be more beautiful than a burning light? A -burning light in the darkness. And she was accustomed also -to interpret and say what such things meant. But here she -could not. A burning light in the darkness—what could that -mean? Something good, something beautiful it must be. And -the person it followed must be a good and lovable soul.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Later that evening, the servants sat talking things over -together before going to bed. They spoke of their Danish -mistress, and gathered round old Kata, who, of course, had -first claim to speak with authority here.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Anyway, she’s a good heart,” said one of the men.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And not too proud to take humble folks’ hand—as she -did my very own.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata let them talk; she could afford to be silent. Her -turn would surely come. She had had most to do with their -mistress up to now, and, moreover, she was recognized as the -wisest head in the place—not excepting any priest. She sat -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>now with her knitting, considering it beneath her dignity to -take notice of all that was said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Moreover, she had already expressed her opinion, in the -most favourable terms, and as the others likewise had nothing -but praise to utter, there was no call for her to take further -part.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Anyway, I’m certain she won’t be as hard and cruel -as the last one was, with her scolding and words,” said one -of the maids. “What say you, Kata?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“She’s the blessedest light I’ve met in all my days,” -answered Kata quietly, and a trifle slowly, as was her way. -“There’s never an evil thought in her soul, nor a hard word in -her mouth. And that’s the truth.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Sera Ketill went late to bed that night. By ill -chance it was Saturday, and he had to have his sermon -ready for the morrow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On this occasion, above all, it behoved him to take some -pains with it. It was his first service, and there would be a -large and expectant congregation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nevertheless, he did not feel at all in the mood for dealing -with his text: “Ye cannot serve two masters.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt a sudden bitterness of regret that he had ever -decided to become a priest. Had he but chosen any other -profession—a lawyer, a doctor, even a trader! Then he would -have been able at least to avenge his defeats indirectly, by -letting others suffer for them. Just think, for instance, of -the satisfaction with which he could have taken up the task -of passing sentence upon some one or other, instead of pointing -out the inadvisability, nay, the impossibility, of serving -two masters. He wished he could have altered the text, and -held forth, for instance, upon the abomination of desolation, -or the Day of Judgment. But it could not be done; the text -was of serving two masters, and nothing could alter it. And -he had to have a good strong sermon on that text by tomorrow, -or his first appearance would be a failure. He was not disposed -to risk further defeats after the ill-success of his plans -today. He needed the encouragement of a victory, and must -take it where it seemed most easily attainable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He thought of his changed position; all things had turned -out badly up to now. His castles in the air; his dreams of -power—unlimited power—in the parish, had, he could already -perceive, faded into nothing. And suddenly it struck him -that he had only to give vent to his own bitterness, directing -it into the proper channel, and there was his sermon!</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>It took time, and it was late before his manuscript was -finished. But as he contemplated it, noting with satisfaction -the finishing touches, he felt assured that here at least was a -masterpiece; he had only to deliver it with forceful and earnest -eloquence, and it must have its effect. He had regained -his self-control, and was ready to forget all the disappointment -of the day in sleep.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Alma awoke early next morning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She dressed in haste, and as quietly as possible, anxious not -to awaken her husband, and with some difficulty found her -way through the passages and out of the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She stood for a little outside. It was a quiet autumn day; -the air seemed full of a strange peace and solemn calm. Being -Sunday, there were none of the people astir, save those busy -within doors in stables or kitchen, and of these she saw nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma wandered round the place, making a survey of her -surroundings. The buildings, with their turf roofs and -solid walls of the same material, seemed pleasant enough to the -eye, giving a sense of security in their massive solidity. They -seemed as firmly rooted and immovable as if Nature and the -Lord had planted them in the earth when earth was made.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She looked about for the church, but could see none. The -tarred wooden structure yonder, with a turf wall round, could -surely not be it—and yet, on closer inspection, she noticed -a white cross rising from the roof. With a curious beating -of the heart, she hurried across to the gate in the earthen wall. -Reaching it, she found that the church stood in the middle of -a modest little churchyard. She opened the gate and went in. -Most of the graves were simply oblong mounds of earth, only -here and there was there a headstone with the usual border -round. And there were a few wooden crosses with lettering -in black tar.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The church itself was locked. She walked round the outside, -and looked in through one of the windows, of which -there were three on either side. The interior was painted -white. At one end stood the altar, on a small semicircular -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>eminence, with a low rail round. Next to it were the choir -stalls, consisting of a few benches along the walls and some -loose ones arranged to allow of passage between. On the -right, looking down the nave, was the pulpit, with painted -figures of apostles on the panels, evidently older than the -church itself. There was a small harmonium, polished and -new-looking—the contrast made Alma smile. But she regretted -it at once; the feeling of amusement at this primitive lack -of taste which installed a brand-new cheap-line harmonium -in an old church, disappeared. She felt that God’s all-seeing -eye was on her as she stood there spying in through a window -at His house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Looking around for somewhere to sit down a little, she -noticed that the churchyard wall on one side was low, and -went across. On her way she passed a grave on which stood a -small pillar of grey granite, the upper part broken off -obliquely. She stopped, and half unconsciously read the -inscription. Between the Christian name and surname stood -the word <i><span lang="non" xml:lang="non">skald</span></i>. She passed on, wondering in her mind what -the little word might mean, but gave it up, and soon forgot it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Seating herself on the churchyard wall, she let her eyes -wander over the country round, noting how the sun shone -on the fjord and on the farther side of the valley, leaving -a strip of shadow on the fjeld. And a feeling of longing -rose in her breast. It was strange to see the sun shining -on others, and herself be left in the shadow. It seemed as -if there were joy there, beyond—joy in which she had no part, -and which saddened her to watch. And it was not only -today, not merely the shadow of a passing cloud that barred -her from the sunlight; no, there stood the fjeld, the dark and -massive, rocky height, that day after day was to steal the sunlight -from her life. She felt that there was enmity between -them—but a moment later she realized that the dark church -and the gloomy fjeld were in harmony; and that God was in -and over both.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Strange—ever since she had set foot in this place, she had -felt the presence of God distinctly; a blind omnipotence, of -merciless mercy—she hardly knew how to define it. God -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>was not so distant in these surroundings as He had first -appeared. The snow-white sides of the fjeld were pure and -good to look upon; they might well be the abode of God. The -country itself, in all its outlines, shapes, and colours, was so -wild and unlike all else that it seemed impossible to regard -it as inhabited by human beings only, with their petty trials -and pleasures. It was impossible, here, to attach great importance -to one’s own well-being or the reverse; one felt so -pitifully small and weak. Even life and death seemed to -lose their distinctive outline.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma caught herself thinking—and she smiled at the -thought—that she had grown, and grown wiser since her -arrival, all in the space of a day and a night. She felt now, -to a degree almost beyond reason, that she was but a speck -in eternity, only a ripple on the endless sea of time.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill found his wife deep in thought, seated on the churchyard -wall. She had not heard him approaching, and started -when he touched her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With a sudden access of tenderness, he took her in his arms -and kissed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She made no resistance, though she resented the action -inwardly. His strength and the physical charm of the man -that had once attracted her were now grown repulsive.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill noted that his wife looked serious. It suited her, -and he stroked her hair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sitting here all alone?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I was just looking round the place. One could sit here -for years, I think, without getting tired of it. I wish I were -a rock—set in a place like this for ever!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill laughed. “I must say I prefer existence as a -human being,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But it is lovely here,” Alma went on. “So grand and -wonderful—the rocks and the sea and the snow spreading -everywhere, and the desolate fields—barrenness and abundance -at once. It is like looking at the stars in the sky—emptiness -and yet so rich....”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>“A bit of good rich pasture land would be more to my -taste,” objected Ketill teasingly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I suppose it would. Really, I think I feel more at home -here than you do yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, I’m glad you do not find the country altogether -forbidding. Many people do, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Forbidding? I feel as if I were under a spell. No will -of my own, just a thing in the hands of Fate. And I love the -feeling that there are great and distant powers that have -taken my life into their hands.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You had better be careful, or you will be growing superstitious—it -is a common failing among the people here. -They believe in all kinds of spirits, portents, omens, fate, and -all that sort of thing. Look at that gravestone there—the one -with the granite pillar. A young poet was buried there. -Somehow the top of the stone got broken off. And folk lay -it to the charge of the powers of darkness—he killed himself, -you know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.... A broken soul beneath a broken stone....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t think the powers of darkness trouble themselves -much about the gravestones in our churchyards.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A poet, you say? And he killed himself? How—why?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Threw himself over the cliff into the sea. You can see -the spot—over there. It falls sheer down into the fjord.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma looked and shuddered. A white wave broke the surface -of the water, and dashed against the cliff.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But why?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nobody seems to know quite. They say it was something -outside the usual causes—not starvation, for instance, or love -or weariness of life.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nobody knows? And yet he threw himself into the sea? -Then it must have been a call from on high. He realized the -presence of God, and followed it, into darkness and death.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Alma, whatever are you talking about!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hardly know myself. The words came into my mouth -without a thought. And I feel myself thinking strange things -that never entered my head before.” And she laughed, a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>little nervous laugh. “It is as if the spirit were upon me, and -I had to speak so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this Ketill suddenly felt called upon to play the priest. -Though, as a matter of fact, he was rather impressed by her -words.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Alma, that is blasphemy, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Not at all.” She looked up in surprise. “I simply feel -as if the Spirit of God were moving on the face of the waters, -and as if I were a piece of dead clay, waiting to be created -as a human being.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>By half-past nine, the congregation began to appear, coming -up in little groups. Many were on horseback.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was outside the house, and it seemed as if the place -had suddenly become alive. Little knots of people came into -view here and there, far or near, appearing and disappearing -between the contours of the landscape. Nearly all were -hurrying.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Reaching the church, they dismounted in groups, as they -had come, tethering their horses near by. They were unsaddled, -and some were merely hobbled and allowed to wander -about at will. The churchgoers then set to tidying themselves -before the service: pulling off the long riding hose, brushing -dirt and hair from their clothes, unpacking collars or aprons, -and fastening bows with careful neatness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, having completed their toilet, they began to move -about, exchanging greetings and news, collecting in new -formations and changing again. A few spoke noisily, but -for the most part they talked in an undertone, with much -nodding of heads and brief ejaculations.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was a centre of attraction, though most of the curious -ones tried to conceal their interested observation. A -few of the principal farmers and their wives, knowing who -she must be, came up to greet her, but with some awkwardness, -when they found she could not understand their speech. -And they withdrew to the company of their fellows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg came alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma went up to her father-in-law, who smiled and took -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>her hand, flushing like a youth, and with that curious kindly -smile of his lighting up the furrowed face. He was looking -better, she thought, than he had done the day before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She took his arm, and would have led him into the house, -but he shook his head, and nodded in the direction of the -church, where the bell was now ringing in. Most of the -congregation were already seated, only a few late comers -were hastening up. Among them was old Kata. She -thought herself unobserved, and waved a coloured kerchief -in the air, muttering to herself: “Away, be off with you, -cursed creatures; get away, wicked things.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The bystanders imagined she was addressing invisible beings, -evil spirits and demons,—the <i><span lang="nn" xml:lang="nn">fylgjer</span></i> of those present,—whom -she had to drive away to make a passage for herself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma entered the church with Ørlygur, leaning on his arm -up the aisle. This was not customary except in the case of -bride and bridegroom, but she knew no better. Ørlygur was -somewhat embarrassed, but he felt happier than he had done -for many a day; not for any consideration would he have withdrawn -his arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He found her a seat next to his own sitting, but did not -take that place himself. As the first layman in the parish he -had duties to perform; he led the singing, and Alma noticed -that it was the organ that followed his lead, not the reverse. -She also remarked that his voice was surprisingly strong and -pure for his years.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In the responses, however, he faltered a little; possibly, -thought Alma, from nervousness on account of the fact that -his son was officiating for the first time. A little after, she -noticed a frown on his brow, lines that had not been there -before, or at least not so marked. And it crossed her mind -that Ørlygur à Borg was not on friendly terms with his son -Ketill—there must be some good cause for it....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Already she seemed to have grown to love this old man, -with his snow-white hair and beard, and the look of strength -and yet of Christian kindliness in his face. Her eyes wandered -from one to another of those present, old and young.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Many were better dressed than Ørlygur, who wore a suit -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>of brown homespun material, his jacket buttoned up round -the neck, and a pair of soft hide shoes on his feet. Many of -the others wore collars and polished boots, yet it was easy to see -that this man was the leader—the born master of his fellows, -to whom all others must defer. Not that there was anything -overbearing in his manner, far from it. He nodded to one -and all, and they returned his greeting without servility, but -with ungrudging respect as towards a superior whom they -esteemed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur sat with bowed head and expressionless features -throughout the sermon. But Alma could see that the people -generally were carried away. And when the service was at an -end, they gathered round Ørlygur and Ketill to offer their -congratulations. Ørlygur, however, made no reply to their -words of praise, only thanked them briefly. Shortly after, -he took leave of Alma, shaking his head in response to her -invitation to the house. She saw him go up to Ketill, who -was standing in the middle of a group of peasants, and -address a few words to him, whereupon both men walked -away to where Ørlygur’s horse was standing.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>“Ketill, I must have a word with you,” said Ørlygur to -his son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest he went -on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do not speak; do not dare to say a word! Listen! You -are a scoundrel and a rogue. Your sermon was hypocrisy, -and inspired by something certainly not divine. You can -deceive these poor folk, maybe, but you can no longer deceive -me. I cannot imagine what use the Lord has for such a man -as you—that He ever let you into His vineyard at all. And -I cannot understand what Fate ever led that angel yonder -to become your wife. How her beautiful eyes could fail to -see through you—’tis more than I can fathom. Her will -is for good—and yours for evil. Ay, you may smile! You are -a hypocrite—a ne’er-do-well. But you are the priest of this -parish, more’s the pity, and married to a good and beautiful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>girl—also, you are my son. I can only warn you to be careful. -And I have this to tell you: Ormarr is taking over the -estate of Borg; he has sold his business. And he is to marry -Runa, my adopted daughter; they are going abroad at once. -When Ormarr dies, Borg goes to <em>their</em> children—you understand -me? I would advise you to be good to your wife. -Should I hear otherwise, then God have mercy upon you. -For her sake I will continue my duties in the church as before, -hateful though it is to me to endure the sight of you. For -her sake I pray that God will give me strength. Even now -I cannot set foot in your house. Make what excuse you please -to your wife; let her be spared from knowing the truth; -bring her to Borg occasionally yourself. I would not see her -suffer for your sins. And now I have spoken my mind.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg turned on his heel, mounted his horse, and -rode off.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill had endeavoured once or twice to smile during -his father’s outburst, but it was more for the sake of preserving -his self-control that he had tried to consider the matter in a -humourous light. As Ørlygur rode away, he stood with -bowed head, set teeth, and frowning brow; then with an effort -he pulled himself together, striving to regain his normal air -of priestly authority.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When, a few minutes later, he encountered Alma, he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My father was very busy, and could not come in. He -told me to give you his kind regards. Ormarr is leaving tomorrow—going -abroad, so they have much to do at Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So that is why Ormarr did not come to church?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, naturally.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But surely he will come and say good-bye?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is hardly likely. He is only going away for a short -time, and when he comes back he will live at Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It will be nice to have him so near. But what about his -business?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He has sold it, so my father tells me. As a matter of -fact, this voyage is a sort of honeymoon. He is going to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>marry Runa, father’s adopted daughter, and she is going -with him. We did not see her yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But it seems strange—not to pay a farewell visit.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill smiled sarcastically. “I should not expect it,” he -said. “It is not the custom in this country.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>For the next few days Sera Ketill went about with a -preoccupied air. He was trying to weigh the situation -and settle his plans.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If his father and Ormarr had thought he would give up the -struggle without protest, they were mistaken. He would not -allow himself to be crushed. If they asked for war, they -should have it. True, everything seemed to favour them at -present, but on the other hand, the odds absolved him, he -considered, from any obligation to be overscrupulous in his -choice of weapons. All’s fair in love and war.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He remembered, with something like regret, the pleasant -spring evenings when he had wandered side by side with -Runa, enjoying a brief flirtation. Happy days—with nothing -but the pleasure of the moment to consider. He had no -longings to plague him, having all that he desired. He imagined -himself in love with the shy, dreamy child who trusted -herself so unreservedly to him. It had cost him something -to leave her, but, nevertheless, something within him told him -that he must; that he could not go on enjoying one idle, -happy phase, but must move forward to a new and more -strenuous one, that promised in return greater rewards for -greater strife.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, once he had left her, Runa had passed from his mind -entirely; all that was left of her was a vague memory, the -recollection of one of his minor adventures, a careless day -of sunshine in his past. He had never thought she would -cross his path again; it had never once occurred to him to -write to her. He regretted his thoughtlessness now. If he -had kept up a kind of correspondence with her, he might -have used his influence over the girl to some purpose. Anyhow, -it was fortunate that the incident had turned out as it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>had. No scandal—not a soul to fear. He could be quite -easy on that score, for it was in the interest of the other party -that nothing should leak out. And, with a little deft manipulation -on his part, the hushing up of the matter might -even prove a most useful weapon in his hand. Again, all -was fair in love and war.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On the whole, his position was not so bad. He had made -a good match, and his wife had considerable expectations in -addition to her present fortune. Yes, he would be able to look -after himself. Ormarr might take over the estate—for a time. -But he who laughs last, laughs best. When all was said and -done, his father and brother had not yet got him into their -power; he had his congregation, and his position gave him -an excellent opportunity to influence public opinion. Meantime, -he would take care to win them over by his powers of -persuasion generally, and gradually make them his faithful -adherents.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man had been furious on Sunday; he had probably -been far from appreciating his son’s talents as a preacher. -But he would know how to lash the old man’s feelings with -his words from the pulpit; he would reach farther and cut -deeper than any other had done before. No fanciful theology, -but argument backed by chapter and verse from the Scriptures. -There could be no question of defence or refutation; -it would be pleasant to see Ørlygur à Borg writhing under -the interpretations of the Old Testament delivered by his -son. Ay, he would show them that a priest was a man to -be feared, an enemy not to be lightly challenged.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill was already elated with thoughts of his victory -to come. He drew up far-reaching plans, and began at once -to con the doctrines of the Church in his mind—as weapons -to be used in his campaign against his father and brother.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was left very much to herself; her husband had -little time to spare for entertaining her. When he was not -busy with his sermons, he was occupied out of doors.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The cattle were brought in for water, and the sheep called -down from the mountain pastures where they had grazed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>throughout the summer. Their numbers had to be checked, -according to the list prepared when they had first gone out, -to see if any were missing. Then came the question as to -how many should be kept during the winter. The hay in the -lofts was measured out in horse-loads; one sheep needed but -a single horse-load for the whole winter, this being eked out -by the winter grazing grounds, which gave a certain amount -of feed each year, on the hillsides or down by the shore. A -cow, on the other hand, would need forty horse-loads, whereas -a horse could manage with ten. All these and other details -had to be considered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then came the killing season, and large droves of sheep -were sent off, either direct to the slaughter-houses or to the -market.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There were repairs to be undertaken, buildings and outhouses -to be seen to; altogether, there were many things which -claimed Sera Ketill’s attention, and often his personal -supervision, especially the sale and slaughtering of the stock.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Indoors, too, there was much to be done; supplies of dried, -preserved, and pickled provisions were invariably laid in for -each winter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma herself had not much to do. When it was fine enough -she went for long walks; otherwise, she spent most of her time -reading or sewing. Now and again she would go out into -the kitchen, and try to talk to the maids. When Kata was at -liberty, Alma sought her company, either in the kitchen or in -the sitting-room. Kata preferred the former; it seemed to -her a mark of favouritism to be invited into the inner rooms. -Alma had come to appreciate highly the old woman’s straightforward -earnestness and her power of maintaining discipline -when necessary, and old Kata had no greater wish than to do -all in her power for her young mistress. She carried out her -duties faithfully, and saw to it that the other servants did -the same.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma had thus plenty of time to consider her own position. -But it was a difficult matter to arrive at any clear conclusion -out of the maze of moods and fancies that filled her mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At times she even thought of returning home to her people, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>but only for a moment. She felt she would never be able to -take up the threads of her old life again. And indeed, from -a practical point of view, it seemed impossible. What would -her husband say to such a step? Moreover, she would probably -be having a child before long.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Apart from these considerations, however, she could hardly -bring herself to leave the country; it had made a powerful -impression on her from the first, and she felt herself strangely -under its spell. Here, at least, she could live, even if she -had to renounce all idea of any happiness in her domestic -life with her husband. If she went away now, she felt that -a part of her being would be left behind; to live elsewhere -would be spiritless, intolerable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She bore with resignation the shattering of her dreams -of love, and made no attempt to deceive herself with ideas -of a future reconciliation. Love, she felt, would play no -further part in her life; when she endeavoured to sound -her feelings on this point, she found herself coldly indifferent. -Her conscience was in no way hurt by her attitude towards -her husband; it could not be otherwise, since he on his part -seemed to have no longer any pleasure in the possession of -her, regarding her merely as a chattel he had acquired.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She even went so far as to imagine that he had never loved -her, but only pretended to do so, and had only won her by -sheer selfish calculation. In the days of their courtship, such -a thought had never entered her mind; but now, disappointment -had driven all love away, leaving only a sense of injury.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Chiefly dominant, however, was the sense of indifference; -Alma had almost become a fatalist. Sorrows and disappointments -were things to be taken as they came, and stacked aside, -as a card-player lays aside the tricks he has taken, or a miser -packs away his treasures. All unknowingly, she was gradually -developing in herself something of the essential character -of the country that had so impressed her; so it was that the -snow gathered and hung on the mountain-side, ever more and -more, until it crashed down in an avalanche, burying houses -and men, or sweeping them out to sea. So also in the heart -of the volcanoes molten stuff was gathered slowly—to burst -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>forth one day and spread death and desolation abroad. And -human beings might do as they, gathering slowly the force -that, suddenly loosed, should change their destinies.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Autumn spread its heavy tones over the land, persistent, -yet ever changing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There were grey, wet days, when all things were obliterated -under masses of rain. Then violent storms, when window-frames -and houses rattled and shook, and the dust was whirled -in huge yellow clouds. Haystacks were caught in the whirlwind, -tumbledown cottages demolished; even the strongest -men were at times obliged to move on all fours over the hills, -to avoid being swept over some precipice. Boats along the -shore were crushed like egg-shells; there were sad days for -the fisherfolk.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sometimes the elements seemed to be resting, leaving the -weather calm and mild; at other times there would be days -of shifting light and shade, of scurrying clouds and sudden -hailstorms that left white streaks along the hillsides where -they passed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The days were growing shorter; everywhere the advance of -darkness made itself felt, like a mighty bass in the autumnal -choir, relieved by the clear treble of the stars and the northern -lights.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma spent the long evenings at home for the most part, -busy with her own thoughts. There was little interchange -of words between her and her husband. They seemed separated -by a gulf of silence; Ketill, apparently, found nothing -distressing in the fact. It was convenient to have a wife -who was quiet, and did not bother him. But Alma felt as if -they lived in different worlds, with but the slightest link between -them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sometimes the fact that they were married—and the -intimacies which alone declared it—seemed to her so tragically -humourous that she had to bite her lips lest she should -break out into bitter laughter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The autumn nights had a depressing effect on her mind, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>filling her with a consuming pain—a deep and intolerable -longing for some one in whose heart she had a place, though -but the merest little corner, where she could feel at rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At milking-time, about ten o’clock, she could be sure of -finding old Kata in the cowshed. And often she would steal -out to her there, watching the old woman at work in the dim -light. Old Kata knew that her mistress might be coming, and -sent off Kobbi, the old cowman, for a jug, which was filled -straight from the udder,—an especial piece of consideration -on the part of Kata,—and the three would sit talking together -as best they could. The two old folk had already taught -their mistress something of the language, enough at any rate -for her to understand them, and now and again put in a -word herself.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Time rolled on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The autumn nights grew longer; the days dwindled -to a few hours’ feeble light.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Winter was near at hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then came the snow. First one night, when all was still. -There it lay next morning, a soft, white sheet spread out -under a blue-tinted sky. All the earth seemed silent as in -church, at the hour of meditation. And when any sound -broke the stillness, its echo seemed to dwell in the ear for -longer than usual, dying away slowly, as if loth to depart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wind came, levelling the snow to fill the hollows of the -ground; then more snow, then rain, and then frost; winter -was come in earnest, come to stay. Heavy, murky clouds -shed their burden of snow, but passed away again; winter -had many aspects and was never one thing for long at a -time. Westerly winds flung the snow hither and thither, -mountain torrents rushed down on their way to the sea. And -then suddenly, in the midst of all this wild confusion, would -come calm, clear nights, of ghostly quiet, no sound to be -heard save the murmur of the sea, like beating of the wings -of time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And men lived on, under the heavy yoke of winter. It -seemed as if the winter itself were ever trying to foist itself -upon them, claiming acknowledgment of its presence. It -set its mark upon the window-panes, thrust itself at them -through the cracks of doors; but they strove to keep it out, -thawing the pictures on their windows, bundling the snow -from their thresholds with scant ceremony, even with abuse. -No wonder that the winter turned spiteful at times, lying in -wait for men and leading them astray in storms, luring them -to destruction in some concealed ravine where their last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>breath could be offered up as a sacrifice upon its altar. It -was but reasonable so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This winter, the Hofsfjordur folk had little time to spare -for contemplation of the usual struggle; they took the necessary -steps for their protection, but their minds were largely -occupied with other matters.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was the new priest, Sera Ketill, son of the mighty -King of Borg—and he gave them food for thought in abundance. -From his first sermon, he had made his influence felt, -chiefly, perhaps, through his eloquence and the depth of feeling -he seemed to display. Then, later, it became evident that -there was a certain tendency in his discourses; his arguments -pointed towards some conclusion, though what this was could -hardly be seen as yet. His masterly treatment of his texts -revealed an iron will, that had evidently set itself some great -and difficult task.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill revealed himself as a fanatic, stern and merciless -in his interpretations and demands. He appeared as an -idealist, looking ever toward the goal of perfection, which he -seemed to regard as undoubtedly attainable. In his judgments -and castigation he was unrelenting as a Jesuit; his doctrine -was clear and hard, admitting of no compromise: if the eye -offended, pluck it out; if the offending hand were nearer and -dearer than all else, there was still no way but one—cut it -off and cast it from thee. Thus Sera Ketill taught his flock.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sunday after Sunday the church was full; week by week -Sera Ketill knit more closely the bond between his parishioners -and himself. At first they admired him, but it was not long -before they came to love him. What had been, was forgotten; -he was their priest now. All knew that Ormarr was to inherit -Borg after his father, and it was not difficult to forgive Ketill -for having, in earlier days, cherished other hopes. Plainly -he had himself been the first to mortify the flesh, and put -away his own worldly desires. And who should call him to -account for any youthful indiscretions? After all, perhaps -he had not been serious in his reputed intention of discontinuing -the benign and considerate rule that had been a tradition -of the Borg family towards those round them. His sternness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>in matters spiritual, on the other hand, was unimpeachable; -it showed his earnest desire for the welfare of their souls, and -those who followed his precepts were happy in so doing, -even though it cost them something to break with the old -easy-going ways. Conscience needed to be kept awake and -sensitive. And it was not altogether unpleasant to come to -church and be rated and stormed at for all backslidings; one -sat listening with beating heart, subject to an emotion which -Sera Ketill’s predecessor had certainly never had power to -call forth. The wearisome homilies of the old days, full of -spiritless and superficial argument, had made it hard for -them to keep decorously awake. But now, it was a different -atmosphere altogether. “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God -with all thine heart.” Also, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour -as thyself.” But hence it followed that one should tolerate -nothing in one’s neighbour that would not be tolerated in -oneself. “For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God,” ay, -jealous even towards His children. Wherefore it behoved -them to adopt a similar attitude towards those around them. -Wheresoever anything became apparent which was not in the -spirit of God, let them rise up and denounce it; if they suffered -any among them to look with scorn, or even with indifference, -upon the Holy Word, then they themselves were guilty. And -for such sinners there was nothing but everlasting damnation; -the Scriptures had declared it plainly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill’s doctrine admitted but two alternatives—either -heaven or hell.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he did not confine his teachings to the pulpit. His -eyes were everywhere, and as often as he discovered anything -among his flock that was not according to his teaching, -he was ready with word and deed. And he brooked no -resistance—he spoke in the name of the Lord. Illegitimate -relationships that had gone on for years were ordered to be -legalized; it was not an uncommon thing for an old couple -who had never been properly married to appear in church for -the ceremony with their grown-up children as witnesses. A -fever of zeal spread from the vicarage throughout the parish. -True, there were occasional murmurings from those who were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>called upon to mend their ways, but even they felt the power -of this new influence in their hearts. And little by little the -flock was led into the paths of righteousness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>First and foremost, Sera Ketill demanded of his congregation -that they should attend regularly for worship in God’s -House, where, by hearing of the Word, their hearts might -be opened to receive the Lord. Anything beyond a single -Sunday’s absence called forth a visit and a reproof for -neglect. Thus it was not long before Sera Ketill became the -unquestioned leader of the parish, acknowledged by all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Among the poorer folk he gained great popularity by foregoing -his right of grazing on their land; here was an example -near to hand of the self-denial he preached. Such a thing -had hardly been heard of before. Plainly, Sera Ketill was -one who himself lived up to his principles.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His judgment was taken as infallible, any decision on his -part was to them as if inspired by the Almighty. And week -by week they grew more and more dependent upon him; -every Sunday he whittled away some portion of the spiritual -independence they had hitherto enjoyed. Yet they hardly -felt it as a loss; they were made to feel that it was pleasing to -God that they should do as they were bidden.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill’s doctrine bore the outward semblance of hallowed -certainty and divine infallibility. But there was something -vague about it still, something that had not yet been declared -outright. A sense of expectancy, half-unconscious, -perhaps, hung over the parish. Whither was Sera Ketill -leading them? What was it that was coming?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill himself realized well enough that his scope of operations -was limited: he could only carry matters to a certain -point. Like a skilful general, he carefully estimated the -fighting strength at his disposal, and never permitted himself -to indulge in any over-sanguine imaginings as to how far his -people would follow him when it came to the pinch. Above -all things, he must not lose his head; must not act prematurely. -His objective was clear, but it could only be reached by -patience. Given but time enough, the ripened fruit would -fall at his feet. Meantime, he must foster the growing zeal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>among his flock; in time, they would be ready for any outburst -of fanaticism. Not too quickly—no. But his time -would surely come.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg attended service regularly; Sunday after -Sunday he listened to the wild outpourings of his son. And -sorrow and wonder grew in his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill strove to maintain his appearance of sincerity towards -his father, but he knew that the old man saw through -the mask.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur, on his part, for all that he had declared that -Ketill could no longer deceive him, found it hard to account -for his son’s zeal. If he were not serious, then why ... -what was he aiming at? But again and again he felt an -instinctive certainty that his son’s preaching was not inspired -by any divine influence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And apart from the religious aspect, Ørlygur was sorely -troubled to see the people thus easily led. He knew his -folk, and was himself a leader of no common power; he could -not but wonder now, whither they were being led. Also, he -knew only too well the cold reaction that often follows undue -excitement.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Many a long winter night the King of Borg tossed restlessly -in bed, uttering many a prayer to God—the only Being -whose superiority he acknowledged. He was weighed down -by a sense of impending disaster—there was trouble coming, -and coming swiftly nearer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill was the leading source of his uneasiness; again and -again he asked himself if he could not somehow step in and -avert the threatening catastrophe. But he racked his brains -in vain to find any way in which he could act as things were. -What was there for him to oppose? He could not take action -against his son’s enthusiasm in the cause of religion and -piety? Heaven forbid! Was he to endeavour to minimize -the devotion of the people to their God? Even though -Ketill’s heart were cold, and his zeal but a sham, who could -say but that he might yet be an instrument in the hand of -the Lord—a creature inspired as to his deeds, though not in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>spirit? Ørlygur à Borg could not raise his hand against -Heaven.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For all this, his suspicions never abated, but rather increased, -as he watched the growing hold of his son upon the -parish. Was it not a masked attack upon the supremacy of -Borg? His son was trying to usurp his place as chieftain. -He called to mind the story of David and Absalom, and -David’s bitter lament for the death of his son. And he -could not free himself from the thought that Heaven must be -working out some plan with Ketill, the prodigal; at times, -also, it seemed that something evil were lying in wait. And, -in such moments, the old man longed to take his son, his -child, in his arms, and weep over him, despite all the wrong -he had suffered at his hands. Ørlygur made no attempt to -disguise from himself the baseness of Ketill’s conduct, but -he fancied it might be the will of God moving in some mysterious -way. His heart was torn by the meanness and hypocrisy -of his son; he felt himself wounded to the death. And yet -all the time his heart was bursting with a desire to forgive.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nevertheless, the same disgust and aversion filled him -every time they met. He felt he must step in and put a -stop to all this underhand scheming and working; Ketill was -a creeping, venomous thing, to be crushed underfoot ere it -had wrought irreparable harm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the first time in his life Ørlygur felt uncertain of himself, -wavering as to his proper course of action. He doubted -his right to lead; doubted even if he had been right up to now -in stewardship under God of all that was His.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He searched his conscience, yet he could find no evil there. -Yet what if his judgment of himself were at fault, blinded -by pride and self-deceit? How should a man judge of himself?—God -alone could judge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The brave old warrior was stricken and weakened now; his -own flesh and blood had wounded him, and, in face of it, doubt -and uncertainty gripped his soul.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The winter wore on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Each day brought the foreboding of disaster more and more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>prominently to Ørlygur’s mind; each night increased the -restless tension of his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then late in March came a letter from Ormarr, then in -Italy.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The news was encouraging; Runa had borne a child, a -son, some weeks before, and both were well. Ormarr and -his wife were happy together; Runa appeared to have forgotten -her past trouble, and Ormarr did his best not to revive -any unpleasant memory. He himself was well and happy, -though longing at times for his home at Borg; he was anxious -to return, and tend and comfort his father in the last years -of his life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They would be coming back as early as could be managed, -reaching Iceland in June. The child was to be regarded as -newly born; it could hardly be difficult to conceal the exact -truth as to its age. And as Ørlygur knew, they had been -married in Denmark the previous autumn. Finally, Ormarr -bade his father be of good cheer, and wished to be sincerely -remembered to his sister-in-law, Alma.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur found the letter encouraging, yet at the same -time there was something in it that saddened him. He was -glad to have the support of his son’s youth and strength in -his loneliness, and his heart went out to the boy in welcome. -Here, at last, he would have some one he could trust, some one -in whom he could confide. But at the same time, there were -fears in his mind as to what would come when Ormarr -returned, and his anxiety increased as the time for his homecoming -grew nearer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Gloomy dreams haunted his sleep—a thing he had never -known before. What it all meant was beyond him, but somehow, -all seemed to centre round the idea of approaching death. -At the same time, he realized with dread that there might -be worse in store for him than death—something more terrible -than what was after all but a natural end.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The winter was a hard time for Fru Alma.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Never, surely, had a tender, womanly heart -been so overwhelmed with loneliness and doubt, -conflicting feelings and bewildering thoughts, or borne it all -with greater fortitude and patience.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A snow-white lily snatched from the sunny spring and -thrust away into a gloomy loft. And what is the withering -of a lily to the agonies of a human heart? Here was a -human creature, plucked from a careless butterfly existence -under a cloudless sky of youth, and transplanted to a land of -grim solemnity and earnest—the home of Fate, where dreams -and omens and forebodings reigned; who could endure it -and not suffer?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma’s soul developed in adversity, but it was an unnatural -growth—the growth of herbage in the shade, outwardly -luxuriant, no more. Such growths, once brought into -the light of the sun, must wither and shrink, to rise no -more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Hardest of all, perhaps, was the monotony of her life. -Despite the changing weather, lengthening days, intercourse -with people around her as she picked up a little more of the -language, despite the busy Sundays, it was a sadly uneventful -existence, and there seemed no hope of relief in the future. -The coming years loomed out as burdens to be borne in due -course, days of drab wakefulness, with restless nights of evil -dreams; the healing rest that night should bring was but a -mirage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the loneliness became unbearable she would seek -the company of old Kata, or of the other servants. And her -kindness to them all was soon known far and wide. Were -any in trouble, be sure Fru Alma would not pass them by; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>her generous sympathy was recognized by all. “The Danish -Lady at Hof,” they called her, and looked to her as one -to whom any appeal for help should naturally be made, as to -a patron saint, or the Son of God Himself. And there was -no irreverence in the comparison.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The vicarage was constantly besieged by beggars and -vagabonds; Sera Ketill, scenting personal advantage to himself -in his wife’s reputation for charity, encouraged her in -the work. He thanked her—but his thanks were insincere -and superficial, and Alma was not deceived. She and old -Kata were the only ones who saw through him, each in her -own way. The two women never spoke of him together; he -was the one theme upon which they never exchanged confidences. -Alma could not speak ill of her husband to any one, -and it was not old Kata’s way to make ill worse. Kata knew -exactly what went on at the vicarage, and she was the only -one who did. Ørlygur was only partially aware of the true -state of affairs between Ketill and his wife.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Kata, who herself had never been wife nor mistress to any -man, was more outspoken with Fru Alma than she had ever -been with any other soul. She found in her a creature pure -and undefiled as herself, a nature trustful and unsuspicious, -with that high confidence that gives the greatest worth, beyond -what ordinary sense can perceive. And Kata tested her in -many ways before venturing to speak freely; but Alma -passed every ordeal triumphantly, unaware that she was being -tried. Chief of all was absolute, voluntary silence, speaking -of a matter to none until one knew that speech was but as -speaking to oneself. Good wine should not be poured into -untried vessels.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is hard to say whether old Kata’s confidences were to -Alma’s good or the reverse. In any case, it was a relief to -her to talk with the old woman, and at first she paid but -little heed to what she heard. There were strange themes -which she would never have dreamed of discussing with any -one, and when alone, she gave them but little thought. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>Gradually, however, they became more insistent, and laid -firm hold on her mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>True, she never saw nor heard “things,” as old Kata -claimed to do; she was not given to seeing visions, and certainly -had no claim to the power of second sight. But she -had strange dreams which Kata, when in the mood, would -interpret in such wise that Alma became thoroughly convinced -of the old woman’s powers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had strange talks together at times.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why is it, do you think, Kata,” Alma might ask, “that -there is always more suffering than joy in life?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I doubt but it’s all because they crucified the Son of -God.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But don’t you think there’s many a human being must -have suffered as much as He did? Others have been crucified, -you know; and then death on the cross is not the worst kind -of torture that could be imagined.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay, there’s many a heavy cross to be borne, that’s true. -But God is God, and that’s another thing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Or Fru Alma would start another theme, asking Kata’s -views as to whether sufferings of human beings were confined -to this world, or if there were perhaps still greater pains and -trouble to come.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata opined that each and every one would receive punishment -or reward according to their doings in this world.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It seems to me,” said Alma quietly, “that we are so -bound by inherited weakness and sin that however much evil -we may do, we cannot fairly be judged beyond our life on -earth.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s a deal in that, maybe,” answered Kata. “And -there’s many a poor sinner not rightly answerable for all -they’ve done. But God is God.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>One day, when a number of dead bodies from a wreck had -been washed ashore in the fjord, Alma said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sometimes I can’t help thinking that mankind, for all -the limitation of our powers, could manage some things more -justly at least than Providence seems to do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Never speak like that,” said old Kata warningly. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>“Think of the Scriptures. ’Tis God’s finger guiding all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, I know it’s a blessed thing to have faith in time of -trouble. And as long as it’s only oneself.... But when -something dreadful happens to others, and there seems no -sense nor reason for it all, then one can’t help asking, why, -what is it all for? Surely one might think that a heavenly -providence would be kind, and work for our good.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ay, ’tis strange to think, no doubt,” answered Kata. -“And there’s times when it’s hard to answer such things. -But God is God.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>This last expression was a constant formula in Kata’s -mouth, which to herself at least seemed to dispose of the most -difficult problem.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma ventured to put a direct question.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you never felt yourself, sometime, that you didn’t -really want to say ‘God’s will be done’?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Now you’re asking me something,” said Kata, “and -something I’d not answer to any but yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The spinning-wheel stopped, and Kata paused; not a word -was uttered for some moments. At last the old woman went -on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Once there was a poor man and a young woman. She -was not rich, neither, but they two were fond of each other, -and gave each other promise. They would wait till they -could buy a little farm; it might take years, but they would -wait. You know the hills over yonder they call the Dark -Mountains. Well, the young man, he went up there to serve -with a farmer who offered him good wages. And the girl, -she stayed behind, and never saw him all that summer. But -she had her ring to look at, and hope. In the autumn, he -came down over the mountains to see her. And there came -a snowstorm on the way, and he was frozen to death in the -mountains....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata’s voice had changed; its tone brought tears to -Alma’s eyes, and though the speaker herself shed never a -tear, it was a little time before she could go on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. ’Twas a hard blow to my faith at the time, and -I was all doubt in my heart. But later on that same year -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>I learned the truth. He was going to marry the daughter -of the farmer he’d been working with, and only came down -to ask me to give back the ring and give me mine again. And -then I said ‘God’s will be done.’ ’Twas providence clear -enough. ’Tis not for us mortals to fathom the ways of God, -and there’s much that seems mysterious, ay, and hard and -unjust. But God is God. And we’re but weak things in -His hand, without understanding. But for all that we can -make our hearts a shining light, and show the way to wanderers -that’s lost the way.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>When Alma knew she was to give birth to a child, she -gave way entirely, and pent-up tears burst forth.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, how could it, how could it ever come like this?” she -moaned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She was to bring forth a child that should carry the nature -of its father or its mother—to what degree she could not say. -And the prospect of a child she felt she could not love filled -her with horror, the curse of a joyless motherhood. If only -God in His mercy had made her barren; had spared her the -anguish of bringing another life into this world of suffering -and misery.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She wept herself by degrees into a calmer state, and a sense -of pity and self-reproach grew up in her—pity for the new -little being to come, and self-reproach that she herself was -so weak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Surely it was sinful to look forward without thankfulness -to motherhood, a sin against the child unborn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And yet—how could she ever be glad?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Life was a void to her; she had no desire in life but to -cease living. Listlessly she saw the days go by, the burden -of her sorrow ever increasing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But those around her paid little heed; they had seen so -many young mothers who seemed to think themselves laden -with all the trouble of all the world.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg noticed her condition, and saw, too, that -she took no pleasure in the prospect. His heart was touched -at the thought, and his tenderness towards her increased. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>Often on Sundays he would arrive some time before the -service, in order to see her, and if he could, console her a little.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They went to church together, the old man and the young -woman; Alma still sat in her old place beside his. And she -was grateful for his kindness and friendliness; he seemed -to her the most lovable man she had ever known.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One Sunday, just before church, Ketill happened to return -to the house, and found his father’s overcoat hanging in the -hall. The lining was outward, and the corner of an envelope -showed in the pocket.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill glanced round, listened, and seized the letter, slipped -into a room close by and closed the door behind him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Hurriedly he read the message through. It was Ormarr’s -letter telling of the birth of Runa’s child.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill’s hands trembled, and his face flushed. With a nervous -laugh he thrust the letter into his pocket. Then, as -by an afterthought, he took it out again, stood for a moment -irresolute, and making sure he was not observed, put it back -in the coat from which he had taken it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went back to join his father and Alma, in the sitting-room, -trying hard to appear unmoved. But he felt he could -not quite control himself, and began fumbling among some -papers on the writing-table. He was still thus occupied -when the bell rang for the last time. His wife and Ørlygur -would have waited for him, but he bade them go on, saying -he would follow immediately.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill waited till their steps had died away, then hurried -out to the hall; he knew he was now alone in the house. He -took down the coat, and let it fall to the ground, where it -might seem to have slipped from the peg. Then he took the -letter from the envelope, and laid it unfolded by the coat, as -if it had fallen out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This done, he hurried across to the church. On the way -he stopped, felt in his pocket, and beckoning to a lad near, -whispered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I left my pocket-book on the writing-table in my room. -Run in and fetch it for me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The boy ran off to obey, and passing through the hall noticed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>the coat lying on the floor. He stopped to pick it up, -and caught sight of the letter. He glanced through it, -hardly knowing what he was doing, and finally left everything -as he had found it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he reached the church with the pocket-book, he -was evidently ill at ease; those who remarked it put it down -to embarrassment at attracting attention.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill’s sermon was not so effective today as usual. -Possibly his delivery was in part responsible. The priest -seemed curiously absent; once or twice he even came to a -standstill, and had to cast about for words.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was the custom for none to leave the church till the priest -and his family had left. Sera Ketill seemed in a remarkable -hurry today. He strode across to the house at once, and -quickly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Coat and letter lay where he had left them, but had evidently -been moved. Ketill smiled. He picked up the letter, -slipped it into the envelope, and put it back in the pocket. -He had barely finished when Ørlygur and Alma entered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had noticed nothing, but Alma thought it strange -to find her husband there in the hall, after he had made such -haste to leave the church, doing something with his father’s -coat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her heart beat fast, and she turned to Ørlygur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Another time, father, when you hang your overcoat up -like that, be sure there is nothing in the pockets.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>As she spoke, hardly realizing what she had said, at first, -the consciousness of her own suspicions of her husband came -to her suddenly, and she flushed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur laughed, and answered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t think there is anything to be afraid of.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he felt in his pockets. “Nothing here but a letter -from Ormarr, and any one’s welcome to read that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He spoke lightly, but a moment afterwards, recollecting -the contents, he turned pale. Alma noticed it, but tried to -appear unconcerned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Ørlygur had gone, she remained standing, deep -in thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>It dawned upon her that there must be some connection -between her husband’s evident nervousness and Ørlygur’s -sudden start. What it could be she was unable to imagine.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Outwardly calm, she rejoined her husband.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Your father showed me a letter he had just received from -Ormarr.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Did he <em>show</em> it to you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill sprang up suddenly, and came towards her, but she -appeared not to notice, and went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr and his wife are getting on nicely. They are -in Naples, and expect to be home early in June.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Did you read the letter?” asked Ketill, with a careless -air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. Ørlygur told me what was in it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was watching her husband’s face, and could not fail -to mark the smile with which he greeted her last remark. -Evidently, he had got hold of the letter himself somehow, and -found in it something that Ørlygur would not willingly have -known.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With bowed head, she left the room, and went to her bedroom, -threw herself on the bed, and burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her husband was a thief—a priest, and a thief.</p> - -<p class='c004'>What a cruel burden was this Heaven had laid upon her. -What would this man’s child be? Oh that the Lord would -take it before ever it woke to life!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma wept long and bitterly, falling at last into a heavy -sleep. It lasted but a little while, however, and she awoke in -high fever.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She was put to bed, and a doctor sent for. But before he -could reach her, the trouble was over—Alma had given her -child to the world—stillborn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Alma came to herself, she saw her husband bending -over the little body, which they would not allow her to see. -Ketill’s face showed neither tears nor sorrow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And she thought to herself: I shall die now. And it will -be laid in the earth by my side, with never a kindly look -from any human being in this world.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With an effort she managed to raise herself on her elbow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>and glance down into the cradle where the little body lay. -It was all uncovered, on a white sheet, so very small and grey, -with little white finger-nails. The sight was like a hot -steel in her heart. And with a cry she fell back, unconscious.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For several days Alma lay between life and death, and -when at last the crisis was passed, she looked up to find old -Kata by her side.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old woman smiled encouragingly, but would not let -her speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lie still, my dear; the worst is over now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A day or two later, when Alma was well enough to sit up -in bed a little, she asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How long have I been lying here, Kata?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“This is the tenth day.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have I been ill so long? And who has been watching -besides you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay, I’d have none but myself for that. I’ve slept a -little now and again.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma grasped the old woman’s wrinkled hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How ever could you, Kata! And how can I ever thank -you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No need to try, my dear. ’Tis enough that you’re getting -well again.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have I—did I talk in my sleep at all?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay, nothing to worry about. Said this and that, maybe, -but I paid no heed.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata busied herself about the room, avoiding Alma’s eyes. -“’Tis no use listening to feverish talk,” she added.</p> - -<p class='c004'>During the long days that followed, while Alma was in -bed, Kata told her fairy stories about kings and princes, with -some idea of diverting her thoughts. And Alma could not -but smile at the old woman’s curious ideas as to the life of -royalty; she did not, however, attempt to correct her impressions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But once, in a pause, Alma broke in suddenly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Poor little mite—lying out there in the cold.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>She had learned of the burial of her child some time before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And she fell to crying softly at the thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata came to the bedside and stroked her hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“All’s in God’s hand,” she said. “And all for the best.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>When Alma rose from her bed after six weeks’ illness, -she was but a shadow of her former self. Her -face was pale, with a yellow tinge, and her figure -wasted to a degree painful to see. She was hardly more than -a skeleton. Her dark eyes seemed larger, and glowed with a -strange, hard light, such as is seen in the still-open eyes of -one frozen to death. Her brown hair no longer stood in a -luxuriant cluster round her head; much of it had fallen out, -leaving hardly enough to cover the scalp and make a pitiful -little knot at the back.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She had seen but little of her husband during her illness. -Twice daily he had paid her a brief, formal visit; but only -a few words were exchanged between them, and neither found -any pleasure in seeing the other. He slept in a different part -of the house, and they avoided each other as far as possible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill could not help noticing that his wife shunned him, -but, occupied as he was with his own affairs, it affected him -hardly at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma went about the house quietly, as she had always done, -with a smile and a kindly word for all. But though none -seemed to notice any change in her manner, her greetings were -less heartily felt than before. Her heart was dead within -her, and something was straining, straining to an intolerable -tension, until it seemed impossible to last. Something must -happen soon.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She often went out to the little mound where her child lay -buried, and would stand for hours looking down at it. -Strange, to have a part of oneself lying there under the -frozen earth and yet to go about oneself with the warm blood -pulsing in one’s veins. It seemed unreal, yet it was reality. -Life seemed to have changed altogether.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She was no longer glad that the child had not lived. There -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>had been a time when she had hoped for that very thing, but -when her wish was realized, came pangs of conscience that -destroyed her relief at its fulfilment. She no longer thought of -what her life might have been had the child lived; she forgot -that she had ever feared its birth; she had no feeling now but -sorrow for its death, and remorse that she had wished for it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Often old Kata would come to the churchyard to fetch her, -gently reproaching her for staying there so long.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“’Tis no good to let all the sad thoughts stay in your mind. -There’s life to be lived; you must not go wandering off among -the dead so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Alma would answer with a listless smile. One day -she asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you think, Kata, that there really is any life in the -world?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ay, indeed, there is. And if the Lord takes one joy from -us, surely He will give something else in its place.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am not complaining,” Alma replied. “I have never -complained. But I have seen heavy crosses laid on weak -shoulders.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“They that seem weak can often bear the heaviest burden. -’Tis a sorrowful world, but, after all, ’tis only a moment in -eternity. And maybe we’re only here to be tried in the fire, -with trouble and affliction, and the ones that suffer most are -those God loves the best. As if He was taking special pains -with them, so they could be sooner ready to come to -Him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>One day, as Alma and Kata were standing in the churchyard, -two ravens flew by. They flew over the church, and old -Kata eyed them anxiously, making the sign of the cross.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, in a trembling voice, she said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“They flew over the church. ’Tis a sign that some one’ll -be called away before long.” And murmuring so that Alma -could scarcely hear, she added: “If it be Thy will, O Lord, -I should be taken, then Thy will be done!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But to herself she thought: “If it should be the young -mistress that’s called, then Heaven be praised. I am old and -hard, I can wear on for a few years more, but the burden’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>over-heavy on her; if the Lord would take her in His mercy.... -God’s will be done.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>During the period of Alma’s illness, a certain amount of -unrest had made itself apparent in the parish.</p> - -<p class='c004'>First of all, there were rumours abroad. No one could -say where they had started, or how; it was impossible to trace -anything more than the inevitable “So-and-so said so-and-so.” -But the rumours were of a startling character, and it was -highly desirable to find out whether they originated from a -reliable source or not.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Briefly, the matter was this: it was whispered that Ormarr’s -wife had given birth to her child as far back as the beginning -of March.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And people made their calculations. The marriage -had taken place at the beginning of September the previous -year. That made the birth a great deal earlier than it should -have been. And yet the child was reported to be strong and -well, by no means as if born before its time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was mysterious. The good folk searched their memories; -they could recall nothing unseemly in Runa’s behaviour -as they had known her; far from it. The marriage had been -rather sudden, true, but they had found nothing very -extraordinary in that. The girl had been waiting for Ormarr, -no doubt; no one had ever heard any other man’s name -coupled with hers. It was looked on as a pretty example of -a maiden’s patient waiting for her chosen lover, and Runa had -risen in the general esteem thereby. But now—there were -those who began to consider whether they might not have -been over-hasty in their conclusions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It looked as if there were something more behind it. And -it was not pleasant to find that one had been deceived.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nothing had leaked out as to Sera Ketill’s little affair with -his foster-sister some months earlier, and no one now thought -for a moment of connecting him in any way with the business.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But who could be the father?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Folk racked their brains to find one. Some had their own -idea, but it would have required a bold spirit to give it utterance. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>The name of Ørlygur à Borg rose to the minds of many. -He was the only man with whom Runa had been on intimate -terms, and for whom she was known to have cherished any -affection. That it should have led to such a result none had -ever dreamt—who could have believed it?</p> - -<p class='c004'>But there it was. Live and learn—the lesson in this case -being a warning against misplaced confidence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Ørlygur had played his part well, and had been trusted -farther than he should. No, there was no trusting any these -days.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But why had he not married the girl himself?</p> - -<p class='c004'>’Twas simple enough—it was too late, and it would not do -to sully the good repute of the family. He would never -have survived the reproach had his wife been prematurely -confined, and for him to marry a young wife at all—a mere -child—was hardly suited to his dignity. So he had taken -this way out of it. Sent the girl out of the country with his -son, giving them strict orders to remain away long enough -to guard against any doubt as to the child being theirs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had sacrificed his son, that was all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Originally, it had been intended that Sera Ketill should -inherit the estate. Every one was aware of that. And then -one day comes Ormarr—on a visit only—and before you -had time to turn round, he had sold his business and got -married. It was sudden, to say the least.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And folk went farther.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As far as they knew, Sera Ketill’s marriage had come -rather as a surprise to his father. Ah, the old fox! He -had reckoned, no doubt, on getting his younger son to take -over the paternity together with the estate. Then, by the -wildest piece of luck, when Ketill upsets his plans by coming -home married already, Ormarr makes all right again by coming -back himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ay, the Devil was kind to his own!</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was not long before the parish had put two and two -together, and realized that Sera Ketill must have been aware -of the whole thing from the first.</p> - -<p class='c004'><em>Here</em> was the thought that inspired his preaching! Plain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>to see now the aim of all this Christian zeal. ’Twas the -preparation for a struggle that he had known was bound to -come; they had been watching it all the winter, never dreaming -what lay behind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And now it was beginning to get exciting. What did Sera -Ketill intend to do? Would he break with his family openly? -If so, how would it be done?</p> - -<p class='c004'>The church was filled as never before; the listeners carefully -analysed the discourse from the pulpit, seeking some -clue that fitted in with their ideas, some hint as to what was -coming. But they learned nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill, on his part, saw that his plan had succeeded. -He could mark the growth of the seed in the faces of his -flock from Sunday to Sunday. And deliberately he made -his allusions vaguer and more general; now that all would -make the proper application of whatever he said, there was -no need for himself to deliver any direct attack.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a drama, played Sunday after Sunday in the church -between father and son—and the onlookers were thrilled with -a sense of some terrible end approaching.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Parochial disputes were nothing new, but up to now the -people of Borg had always stood united on one side or the -other, and their side had invariably won. But this was different; -this was civil war—a house divided against itself. -And it meant a battle the like of which had never been known -in the records of the place.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The only drawback was that there seemed no possibility -of doubt as to how it must end—unless some new development -occurred meanwhile. Not only had Sera Ketill right on his -side, but the Almighty was with him. And, moreover, he -had taken the precaution to enlist the entire congregation -under his banner.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Altogether, it would need something like a miracle to get -that old fox Ørlygur out of the trap. No use for him to -gnaw off a pinioned leg or brush—he was gripped round the -middle, and there was no escape.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The thought of this great idol’s fall was a thing to make -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>one shudder; even though he were to fall by his own misdeeds, -one could hardly help pitying him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After all, Ørlygur à Borg had always been their friend. -None had ever been so ready to help, so open-handed, as -he.... But he had always been a proud sort, Ørlygur à Borg, -and pride goeth before a fall.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was rather a conflict between a mortal and the Higher -Powers—and they were not so presumptuous as to think of -taking any part themselves. He would have to manage by -himself—even if it meant ruin and disgrace in the end. -However they might feel towards Ørlygur, the general -benefactor, they were not disposed to take up arms against the -Lord Himself for his sake.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And what said Sera Ketill so insistently: “If thy hand -offend thee, cut it off....” Ay, even if that hand were -a brother, a near kinsman....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ay, Sera Ketill knew how to choose his words.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And if he did not venture now to take his father’s part, -but stood up and opposed him at whatever cost, it was surely -because he realized that God’s commandments must come -before all else.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The spirit of hypocrisy made its triumphal progress -through the parish.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was characteristic of the fanatical intolerance which -reigned that Ørlygur’s innumerable good deeds were forgotten -in the storm of righteous indignation that rose against him. -Folk great and small set themselves up in judgment upon -their old chieftain and found it easy to discover some selfish -motive behind every kindly and generous act of his in the past. -Those who owed him most were sternest in their condemnation, -and, in default of actual proof, were not afraid of -altering facts to support their case. And they quieted conscience -by the thought that even if all were not exactly as -they put it, there was still evidence enough against Ørlygur -to satisfy any reasonable mind. A little touch of colour one -way or another made no difference.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The people had chosen; Ørlygur was already worsted and -down. Certain of the result, they had declared for the winning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>side—a fine example of the unstable character of humanity, -a weathercock moved by every puff of wind.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill was only waiting for the return of his brother and -sister-in-law.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt a slight nervousness in the anticipation, though he -felt confident in his own mind as to the result of the blow -he was prepared to deliver. His plan was complete in all -details, all preliminary steps had been taken: he had but to -wait for the decisive moment to strike.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the waiting was monotonous. He had nothing more -to do, and his mind in idleness was plagued by distressing -thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If only he had some one to share things with, a companion -after his own heart. He was realizing now what it was to be -lonely. He even sought the company of his wife, but soon -observed that she shunned him as far as possible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The gulf of silence between them had become almost impassable, -and he read enmity and suspicion in her glance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had never meant to be unkind to her. Maybe he had -been a little neglectful at times—but she ought surely to have -realized herself how busy he was, and how hard it was for him -to find any time for little attentions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had time enough now, and would have been glad to -make up for the past, if only by way of finding some comfort -himself in his loneliness. His mind was suffering under -a growing burden of isolation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In the daytime he could generally find something to do, -but the evenings were long, and the nights often unbearable. -He could not sleep, and his nerves soon began to feel the effect -of insufficient rest; he had to struggle, too, against -haunting thoughts that left him almost physically exhausted.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sometimes he even considered whether it might not be -better to give up the whole scheme. But after all the pains -he had taken to prepare it—no, he could not give up now. -If he stayed his hand, all would be lost.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His wife seemed lost to him. She was coldly reserved, and -utterly unresponsive towards his advances. And his conscience -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>troubled him. He could almost see himself, at times, -with her eyes; hear how his own words rang false in her ears. -He was a cheat—and what was worse, he had been found out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Even if he gave up his plans now, it would not help him. -He could never win her back again, of that he was sure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With his father, too, it was equally hopeless. Ørlygur -would never trust him again, whatever he might do; and it -was not to Ketill’s taste to humble himself to no avail.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No! If he gave up now, he would be utterly alone thenceforward. -The people would desert him, for his preaching -would no longer have any definite aim; his doctrine would -lack its dominant purpose. He would be alone, forsaken by -all, without a friend among his flock, his kin, or even in himself; -alienated even from his God. A creature to be despised, -or pitied; a thing of no account, unworthy either of hatred -or affection. Intolerable!</p> - -<p class='c004'>No; if he were to be alone, he would at least have power. -If he could not win the trust and affection of his people, he -would at least command their obedience and outward respect. -No one should have the right to accuse him of -weakness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Such were his conflicting thoughts as the days went on. -Ketill was thoroughly wearied of inaction; he longed for -the moment when he could act, as a child longs for its -birthday. Again and again he pictured to himself the events -of that day, conjuring up visions of his triumph; his one -desire now was for it to come, and make an end of the -waiting.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Also, he began to feel less sure of himself; to fear lest -at the critical moment his nerve might fail him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once he had declared himself, however, there could be -no question of withdrawal; all doubt and wavering would -disappear; there he would stand, erect and strong, the -victor in a struggle that he had vowed to win or die.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was not blind to the danger of any weakness on his -own part; irresolution would be fatal. But once he could -take the decisive step, leaving himself no possibility of -retreat, all would be well.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>Victory was certain—for he was fighting without mercy, -as injustice ever does.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Alma went about in the same dull, listless state as before. -She seemed to be living in a world apart from all that -went on around her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She noticed her husband’s restlessness, and that he seemed -to be trying to approach her. But she put it down to his -weakness and lack of society—a need for companionship of -any sort. And as a result, her antipathy increased. She -was good enough—in default of all else! But at other times -he cared nothing for her. It was not for her sake, not for -herself, he sought her. Ketill never realized how his neglect -had isolated her in a prison of solitude.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was impossible to speak to him about the state of -things between them; he would only gloss it over with an -utter disregard of the truth. And any open insincerity -and falsehood on his part would bring matters to a climax; -she would be unable to restrain her feelings. What would -happen exactly, she did not know; she did not venture to -consider the possibility. It seemed impossible that she could -ever survive such a revelation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And yet she had a painful intuition that it would come, -and that she would survive it. It was horrible to think -that she must go on living after that. Were she but certain -that it would kill her, she would gladly do her best to bring -matters to a head instead of avoiding and dreading it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But for the present the wheels of time seemed to have -stopped; life was at a standstill.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Even the solitude she sought in her wanderings about -the country seemed dreadful to her now. Ice and snow, -ice and snow—the outlook was so bleak and desolate that -it brought her mind to the verge of insanity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her head ached intensely as she looked out over the -snow-covered waste; her brain seemed on the point of -bursting, she felt herself fighting to retain her mental -balance. Once she gave way there would be no recovery.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She would find a dark corner somewhere, and sit down -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>with her head in her hands, rocking to and fro. Snow -and barren waste—the sight of it worked on her till she -dared not face it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then came the sunshine of spring, and she could go -out once more. The snow was still there, but there were -breaks in its monotonous expanse. And day by day she -watched it disappear.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then at last one day she heard the roar of the stream -as it broke through the ice of its winter bondage. She -hurried out to look.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The ice had been carried out into the fjord, and lay there, -blue and green, rocking gently on the water. Later in the -day it lost its freshness, dulled by the sand and mud -carried down by the torrent. Streams were pouring everywhere -from the heights above, forming small pools here and -there where the water spread.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And gradually the earth rose up out of its covering of -snow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The landscape was dark and bare, relieved here and -there by white specks—the ptarmigan had not yet changed -their winter plumage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then the green of spring began to put forth, and birds -of passage arrived. The air grew milder, and the song of -birds was heard; there was a scent of growth abroad, a -promise of harvests to come.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Early blossoms peeped out, braving the frosts with cheerful -smiles. Time went on, and the light nights came, -when the evening brought but a veil over the day, that -was drawn aside again at dawn, when the bright sun rose, -passing from a ruddy glow to a fullness of dazzling rays. -Butterflies lived their little lives, and sank to earth, to -pass through the cycle of nature before they came again. -The lambs of last year were mothers now themselves, wise -in the vicissitudes of life and saddened by experience.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the horses, even the older ones, forgot for a moment -their mere material needs, and galloped madly about under -the influence of the joy-filled air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Cattle let loose for the first time from their confinement -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>behaved in most undignified fashion; even the astonished -calves followed suit and joined in the romp with their -elders. Good-natured mothers pretended to let themselves -be outdone by their month-old offspring, until some youngster -grew overbold, and had to be reminded by what was -fitting. Great days, these, for a young calf, a time to play -at being a grown-up bull, and making ferocious charges -against all and sundry.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All the light-heartedness of spring about her brought -at times a smile to Alma’s saddened face. But it was a -smile of pity rather than of pleasure. All these young -creatures, this life new to the world, had not yet tasted -the bitterness of existence upon earth.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So she lived through the spring with the winter of life -in her heart, that nothing could melt away once it had set -in. No springtide for her, no budding and bloom.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She longed only for peace—in forgetfulness or death.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Ørlygur a Borg was heavy at heart this spring.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He marked the covert whispering abroad, and -it chilled him. But no one was anxious to be the -first to tell him of the rumours that had spread, and he -remained in ignorance of their essential theme. Yet he -could not fail to see that there was something in the air—something -that concerned himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The expression of men’s faces had changed. Ørlygur -found himself regarded with curious glances—sometimes -a look of wondering speculation, at times a look of something -like scorn. If he came unexpectedly upon a group, -they would cease their talking suddenly, or talk with such -eagerness of indifferent matters that it was clear they had -changed the subject on his arrival. They had been speaking -of him—or at any rate of something he was not to know of.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At first he paid little heed to it all. What did he care -for their gossip? He had always held himself apart and -above all idle talk. Realities, matters of actual moment, -were the only things that interested him. Let them wag -their tongues if they pleased; say what they would of one -another, good or ill. It was always the same in the end—they -answered to the hand with the surest touch, not to -the mere possessor of a gift of speech.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As days went on, their glances became more and more -ill-disposed and evident; the crowd seemed to increase in -boldness as its numbers grew. Ørlygur felt himself gradually -surrounded; even at Borg itself there was an air of restraint -apparent. His own people no longer met his gaze frankly, -no longer laughed heartily at his jests; his orders even were -no longer received and obeyed with the same willing alacrity -as before. If any task called for special effort, there was no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>longer the same eager haste to help. It seemed rather as if -he were being left to struggle by himself, an object of curiosity -as to how he would manage alone. He could see, too, -that he was being watched, as if all around him were trying -to read his thoughts, and with no friendly eye.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Day by day it grew harder to bear. Ørlygur tried to -get at what was in their minds, insinuating opportunities -for them to speak out, but without avail. They could not—or -would not—perceive his invitations to tell him frankly -what was amiss.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sought out his best friends in the parish, those whom -he had befriended most. He called, not as with any evident -object, but casually, leaving it to them to speak of what -they evidently knew. But all to no purpose. It had not -been the way of those whom Ørlygur had helped to cringe -and fawn before him; they had acknowledged his assistance -as between man and man. But now they met him with -fluent insincerity, plainly trying to conceal the true state of -the case. Outwardly, they were humble and full of deference -and gratitude; but he could see their hearts were ice -towards him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was hardly a soul in the parish who was not indebted -to him in some way. But now that he stood in need -of a friendly hand, their selfishness was revealed. Not one -had the courage to speak out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then came the third of May—the date when farm hands -and servants enter or leave their service.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was out and about betimes, looking to some lambs -that had just arrived. It was dinner-time before he came -back to the house. As he came up, he noticed that there -were no men to be seen outside, though some of the ewes -were in birth-throes and needing help. He attended to -the most pressing cases himself, and then hurried up to -the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here a further surprise awaited him. All the hands, -and the girls belonging to the house, stood with their boxes -ready packed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the door he met the headman, dressed in his Sunday -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>best and carrying a box. The man flushed a deep red at -sight of his master, but tried to appear unconcerned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had come up with the intention of sending out -the first man he found to attend to the sheep. Now, he -gave no orders, but asked instead:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are you leaving, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ye—es,” stammered the man, evidently ill at ease.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you are not satisfied, why have you not told me -before, instead of going off like this without a word in -advance?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You never asked me to stay,” was the sullen reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have stayed on of your own accord now for twenty-two -years, since I took you in as a child.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>This was undeniable. The man murmured something -about having found another place.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“With Jonas à Myri.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good. You can tell him from me that if he should be -in need of hay again, as he was last winter, he can come -to me as he did then. And now—you may go to the devil!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur turned on his heel and went indoors. In the -passage he met one of the girls, dressed in her best.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are you going too?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You did not ask me to stay.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A plot, thought the old man, and turned from her without -a word.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All the farm hands were dressed and ready to leave, -gathered together in a group. A silence fell on them as -he approached.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One by one he asked them: “Are you leaving?” And -always the same answer: “You did not ask me to stay.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur found difficulty in restraining his feelings. He -was deeply attached to his people, most of whom had been -in his service for many years. They had always got on -well together; the hands at Borg had better wages than -they could have obtained elsewhere. Some of them he had -engaged when no one else would take them, and they would -have been without support had it not been for his help. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>And now they were deserting him. Not one of them had -been man enough to declare his intention beforehand, and -give time for finding help elsewhere.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur spoke with studied harshness, fearing to betray -what he really felt.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Get you gone, then, every man of you, and the sooner -the better.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>It struck him that he had not seen old Ossa, who had -served him for fifty years, and had been like a second -mother to his children. He found her in the kitchen, preparing -his meal.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are you not leaving too?” he asked bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m too old to go about the country seeking work,” -said she. Her voice seemed richer and softer than usual -as she spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If it is only that, I could have lent you a horse,” -returned Ørlygur, with a note of sarcasm in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay, I’ve no wish to be leaving Borg. ’Twill not be -of my own choosing if I should. And maybe I can be -some use a bit yet. As long as I’ve but my keep and -needn’t be a burden.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a slight pause.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ossa, what is it? Why are they leaving the place?” -Ørlygur asked, with some constraint.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Master’s the best judge of that, I take it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—they say it’s because I haven’t asked them to -stay on from last hiring. You know I’ve never asked -them; as long as I thought they were satisfied, I took it -they would stay.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Didn’t they say about leaving before, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You know that as well as I do.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, Master can surely stop them; they’ve no -right to go if you order them to stay.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m too old to beg favours. And I’ve no mind to call -in the law. You won’t tell me, then, what it’s all about?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you don’t know, ’twould not help you to be told.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, well, I’ll not try to make you speak against -your will. But I thank you for staying on.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>“I’ll have your dinner ready directly. You’ll need it -this day.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Never mind the dinner. Put on a shawl and come and -give me a hand with the sheep. They are lambing all over -the place, and none to help them.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Ørlygur strode out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A lamb was bleating pitifully at the back of the house. -He hurried over to the spot, and found the headman already -there. The man looked up as he approached. Ørlygur -strode forward, his face white.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You are no longer in my service,” he said. “And I -do not want your help.” And with a blow he struck the -fellow to the ground, and went on, paying no further heed -to him.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg was left with none to help him save old -Ossa.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sheep alone were more than he could manage; hundreds -of them, and in the height of the lambing season. -Scores of the young lambs perished daily, for lack of care. -Ørlygur and Ossa worked all day and far into the night, -doing all they could, but despite their efforts, many of the -ewes died in giving birth, or strayed and were drowned or -bogged; many of the lambs starved within reach of the -udders they could not find. And it was impossible to milk -the burdened beasts; many were soon suffering from lack -of relief.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There were the cows to be seen to as well; Ørlygur and -Ossa were so exhausted when at last they ceased work for the -night that neither could do more than sink down in a chair -for a few hours’ rest. They spoke only briefly, of necessary -things, and ate their food on the way to and from -their work.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On the following Sunday, Ørlygur asked of those he met -at church if they knew of any hands to be had.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It seemed that there were none available anywhere.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And now he felt that they were rejoicing inwardly at -his misfortunes. All were against him, he felt certain, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>but their opposition was so veiled that there was nothing -he could take hold of or challenge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Patience was the only thing. Ørlygur waited.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It could not be long, he felt, before something leaked -out as to what lay at the root of it all. Some accidental -hint, a word let drop, might give him a chance to take the -matter up. And if he could but find out who was the -leader responsible for it all, it should go hard with him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He suspected Ketill, but could not understand how he -could have such power in the parish already as to bring -about such a change in the general attitude of the people.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As to his own practical difficulties—he might perhaps -get hands from farther off, but he could not be away from -the place himself, and there was no one he could send. -Nothing for it, then, but to wait patiently for Ormarr’s -return.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur shook his head sadly as he realized his helplessness. -Truly, he was getting old.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>The vessel was nearly due now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur kept a close watch on the fjord, and held three -horses in readiness for the moment when the ship rounded -the point.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If only it would come! He shook his head; he had a -feeling that there was but a little time left him now to live.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he dreaded lest perhaps the ship should not come, -or something have prevented Ormarr from making the -voyage. He spoke to old Ossa about the weather; no, -surely it could not send a fine vessel to the bottom.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur’s hands trembled incessantly; he was visibly -aged, and his voice quavered when he spoke of his own -affairs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Ossa was deeply concerned, but strove to hide her -sympathy; Ørlygur was not pleased to find himself looked -on as a helpless creature, and was apt to turn on her -impatiently when he suspected her of overmuch anxiety -on his behalf. He would not be looked after like a child. -If she ventured to dry his socks at the fire, instead of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>hanging them to air in the ordinary way, he would keep -his wet ones on. And when she tried to substitute new -mittens for his old and tattered ones, he gave up wearing -mittens at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Getting old I may be,” he grumbled, “but I’m not -an old woman yet.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then at last one day the ship hove in sight round the -point.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur hurried about, active as a boy, saddled his -horses, forgot all his troubles, and astonished old Ossa by -humming, all unconsciously, a fragment of a song, that he -kept repeating over and over again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And as soon as he was ready, off he rode to fetch his -son home.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill had likewise been awaiting the arrival of the -vessel with impatience, and had horses ready.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As soon as he saw it had arrived, he hurried to his wife.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr and his wife have arrived—the ship is just -coming in. Get ready as quickly as you can. We must -go down to the quay and bid them welcome.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma looked at him in surprise; something in his manner -filled her with vague anxiety.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She put on her riding things—her habit was sadly too -big for her now, but, after all, what did it matter? And -Ketill and his wife set off for the trading station, reaching -there just after Ørlygur himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and Runa had already come ashore, and the -party were about to set off for Borg when Ketill and Alma -arrived on the scene. All three tried to conceal their -astonishment: they had not expected Ketill.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He greeted them with outward calm, and they tried, for -Alma’s sake, to appear as if there were nothing but good-will -between them. But all three found it difficult to meet -his glance. And Ketill smiled, as if with pleasure at the -meeting, but in reality with malicious satisfaction at the -evident impression his presence made. It was a tribute to -his power. It would not be easy to get rid of him now.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>Ørlygur was trembling, and had the greatest difficulty -in controlling himself. Trouble was imminent now; of that -he was certain. And he puzzled his brain to find the reason -of Ketill’s appearance there—what had he to gain by it?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr took the child, and helped his wife into the saddle. -He was very pale, and glanced covertly at Runa.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma came up to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is long since we met,” she said. And, noticing his -pallor, she asked anxiously if he were “unwell.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is nothing—I felt a little strange for the moment,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr, on his part, noted how changed Alma was, how -ill and distressed. He was about to question her, but -checked himself; best not, perhaps, to ask anything at all -just now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma read his intention, and understood that he wished -to spare her. She felt she must hide the real cause, and -gave only the more direct reason for her evident ill-health.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I too have had a child since we last met,” she said; -and added after a pause, “and lost it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears rose to her eyes. And just at that moment Ketill -came up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What—crying?” he said, putting his arm round her. -Alma shivered at his touch.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill lifted the coverings from the child’s face and looked -at it. “So this is the little heir,” he said jestingly. “We -must have a look.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma also glanced at the child.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Congratulations, Runa,” said Alma, grasping her sister-in-law’s -hand. “And Ormarr”—turning to him—“and -you too, dear father-in-law. ’Tis a bonny child they have -brought you home. May it bring luck to the house!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ay, we need something to bring luck to the house,” said -Ørlygur bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma looked at him, surprised at his tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh—you mean you still can’t get hands for the farm -work?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur saw that she asked in all innocence.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“No, my dear,” he answered. “And I am getting old. -When the little lad here has grown a bit, I may do as a -playmate for him, but little more. But we ought to be -getting home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>All five rode off together. Not a word was spoken until -they reached the cross-road where Ketill and his Wife -turned off to take the short path to Hof.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The three continued on their way in silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was glad that the meeting had been got over; -sooner or later Runa would have had to meet Ketill, and it -was well that it was done. He rode up beside her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You managed splendidly,” he said. “I have never seen -a woman so brave and strong.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa made no answer, but Ørlygur read her silence as -expressing thanks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Some way farther on she rode up to him again; he understood -that she had something particular to say. She rode -at his side for a little distance without speaking, then, -leaning towards him, she said in a low voice:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The past is forgotten.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And they rode on in silence. But, despite her words, -Ørlygur was not quite at his ease.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Later, when they arrived at Borg, and he saw how Ormarr -helped his wife tenderly from her horse, and kissed her, -the tears rose to his eyes, and he thanked God that these -two, united in misfortune, seemed now, at least, to be living -happily together in love.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Ossa came out to meet them, and Ørlygur turned -to his son.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The only one that is left,” he said, pointing to Ossa. -“There are no more servants at Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What do you mean?” queried Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It means that I have become such a hard master in my -old age that I can neither keep old servants in my house -nor get new to come.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Later on he told Ormarr how the servants and farm -hands had left with one accord, and how those he had befriended -among his neighbours round had turned from him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>in his need. He said nothing, however, of his suspicions -with regard to Ketill.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr thought for a moment, then turned to his father -suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There must be something behind all this,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur nodded; he too was clear as to that, but what -was at the bottom of it all, he could not say.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr seemed anxious to pass over the matter lightly -for the present. “We must be able to get hands from -somewhere,” he said easily. “And if our neighbours can -do without us, I dare say we can manage without them.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill and his wife rode on for some distance without -speaking. Alma had an idea that Ketill wished to confide -in her about something, but was at a loss how to begin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She remembered how she had ridden that way with her -husband once before: she had wept then, because he left -her to ride alone. Now, the mere idea that he wished to -speak to her made her shudder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They came to the ford, and Ketill drew up close beside -his wife, lest she should fall dizzy in crossing. He told -her to close her eyes and hold on firmly, which she did. -They crossed without difficulty. Alma could hear that the -water no longer plashed about the horses’ feet. But she -still kept her eyes closed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She could feel that her husband was still at her side. -At length he spoke. His voice was unsteady, as if he -found it hard to speak at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I want to speak to you about something,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma opened her eyes and glanced at him timidly. -But Ketill was looking fixedly at his horse’s mane as he went -on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is an unpleasant matter, and I’m afraid it will distress -you somewhat. But it must be faced. And when the time -comes I am sure you will agree I have done rightly.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He paused for a moment, and then went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You saw the child?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>He waited, as if for an answer, but Alma made no reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Did it not strike you as being extremely well-developed -for a child newly born? It is supposed to have been born -on the way up.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma looked at him in astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you mean that the child is not theirs?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The child is Runa’s. But Ormarr is not the father,” -Ketill replied. “It was born in March. And Ormarr was -not in Iceland the previous spring.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma felt suddenly dizzy; she felt as if she must burst -into tears, but sat still, outwardly calm. Something told her -that though there might be something of truth in this, there -was yet falsehood and mischief behind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bitter words rose to her lips; it was as if her husband -were making her an accomplice in a deed worthy of Judas. -But she dared not give vent to her feelings, and only said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, and if so, it is no concern of ours.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It concerns us—as being of the family—and it concerns -me, as a priest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What do you propose to do, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have not heard all as yet. You do not know what -people are saying throughout the parish—that the father -of the child is—Ørlygur himself!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is a lie!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was quivering with rage; she had never been so -near to losing her self-control.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I do not say it is true. Until it is proved, we must -hope for the best. But you will no doubt agree with me -that the matter calls for the strictest investigation. Ormarr -and his father have treated the affair with great secrecy—that -looks bad, to begin with. Did you not notice -last year how Runa was kept out of the way when -we were there? And can’t you see now why it was? -Has it never struck you that her marriage was arranged -with extraordinary haste? The whole thing was settled -and done in a couple of days. It is a very awkward -business indeed for father; the entire parish is against -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>him. All his workpeople left the place this spring, and -he has been there all alone, with but one old woman, until -now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why did they leave him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Probably because they knew what was said about -him, and believed it true. Very likely they knew of some -little incident that proved it. And after that, of course, -they would not wish to have anything more to do with him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma was at a loss what to reply. She had a keen desire -to defend Ørlygur, for she fully believed he was innocent. -But her brain was in a whirl, and the one thing uppermost -at the moment was an intense hatred of her husband. -But she would not give it rein. She was helpless, and -suffering bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What do you think yourself?” she asked at last, in -a low voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I do not allow myself to <em>think</em>. But I have determined -to have the matter cleared up. That is all.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Sunday came. A glorious spring day with a bright -blue cloudless sky and the air a-quiver with heat; -a day of smiles without a shadow, breathing peace to -all mankind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Coming out into the sunshine on such a day, free from -the cares and toil of everyday life, the heart seemed filled -with a natural desire to give thanks and praise to God for -the blessing of life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But on this Sunday, there were few in all Hofsfjordur -whose minds were bent on praising the Lord. Folk hastened -to the service, but their thoughts were not with God. This -day, the first Sunday after Ormarr Ørlygsson’s homecoming, -was a day of mark; something, all knew, was about to -happen. And all repaired to the church to see. Even -tiny children were brought thither; no one was willing to -stay at home minding children today.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill was up and about before any of his people at -Hof. He moved about restlessly outside the house, avoiding -the grass, which was still thickly drenched with dew.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again and again he glanced over in the direction of Borg. -A thin bluish column of smoke could be seen rising straight -up above the chimneys of his old home. And involuntarily -he found in it something like a symbol of peace. There was -something of a covenant in the ray of smoke that rose as it -were from some sacrifice acceptable to the Lord.</p> - -<p class='c004'>How was this day to end? Sera Ketill asked himself -the question, and wondered who would be coming to church -from Borg that day.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur and Ormarr moved about in silence, each bent -upon his own tasks. There was much to be done; they -had made no attempt as yet to secure new hands. It had -been agreed that Ørlygur should go to church, the others -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>remaining at home. Had it not been for his duties there, -Ørlygur himself would rather have stayed away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Early that morning he had fetched in Sleipnir, his -saddle-horse, from the fields, and stabled it without fodder -to be ready for the road. He let another animal into the -box to keep it company, and the pair remained there during -the morning, relieving the tedium of their confinement by -licking each other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last it was time to start. Ørlygur had saddled his -horse, but delayed moving off, finding this thing and that -to attend to, as if loth to leave the place. Now and -again he stopped still, looking out over the country round; -from all quarters he could see his fellow-parishioners -come riding; all moving towards Hof as the centre of -attraction. He noticed, too, that the enclosure round the -vicarage was already dark with the crowd of those who -had come early.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Finally, realizing that he had no time to spare if he wished -to arrive in time, he stepped off resolutely. Then he turned -and stopped.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was in the courtyard, teaching a new-born lamb -to suck. He had been an adept at the work in his younger -days, but had forgotten his deftness now, and was fumbling -awkwardly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur went straight up to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I think you had better come with me, after all,” he said. -“I feel—I feel lonely today, Ormarr. Never mind the -lamb, it will manage till we come back.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr looked up. There was something strange about -his father’s manner today, something he had not noticed -before. He rose up without a word, saddled a horse, and -a few minutes later father and son set out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Where the road was good, they gave their horses rein. -But Ormarr noticed that, despite the pace, his father was -constantly turning to look back at Borg. A new fancy -of his, he thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a stretch of difficult going just ahead; on reaching -it, they slackened speed, and rode on side by side at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>a walk. Suddenly, and without preamble, Ørlygur said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I had a strange dream last night. Curiously distinct -it was too. I was standing on the hill outside”—he -nodded towards Borg—“and a funeral came along the road—this -very way—towards the house. A great procession, -the biggest I had even seen. And the strange thing about -it was that it was coming from the church towards Borg—instead -of the opposite way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He paused for a moment, and continued:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And that was not all. I was quite sure that it was -my own corpse the people were following. And yet I stood -there on the hill myself, looking on. If it means anything at -all, I suppose it should be taken by contraries—to say that -I am to be buried alone, without a soul to follow me to the -grave.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They reached the level road as he ceased speaking, and -Ørlygur at once galloped on ahead; Ormarr did not overtake -him till they had reached the vicarage. Neither spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a numerous attendance of people. But it was -noticeable that they did not talk together, but busied themselves -tidying up after the ride with nervous care. There -was none of the customary laughter and easy conversation, -all seemed curiously silent. Neighbours did not move to -greet one another and shake hands; and none entered the -church. All waited, a silent crowd, with their minds at the -highest pitch of sinister anticipation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the second time the church bell called to the worshippers -to enter. But no one moved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At sight of Ørlygur and his son riding up, the crowd remained -impassive, merely staring at the new arrivals as -they approached. But they watched them closely, with -occasional side-glances at others, who appeared to be watching -likewise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Ørlygur rode up, he divined at once that no one had -as yet entered the church; that all were waiting for himself -and his son. They were watching them, too. One glance -showed him the situation, and his anger rose suddenly. -Usually, he dismounted outside the fence. But now, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>galloped straight across the enclosure, up to the wall of the -churchyard, Ormarr following at his heels. The crowd had -to give way hastily to avoid being trampled down. Still -there was no murmur, only the same watching glances from -all. And all could see that the master of Borg was in no -gentle mood today.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly the gathering moved with one accord towards -the church and poured in. The bell called for the third -time—a strange, solitary sound in the quiet air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur and Ormarr secured their horses and went -straight into the church. They were the last to enter, save -for old Kata, who hobbled along, waving her coloured kerchief -in the air to ward off invisible ghosts and evil things.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur read the opening prayer, and the service proceeded -as usual, until Sera Ketill ascended into the pulpit.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was in his usual seat in the choir. Alma sat at -his side. Ormarr had found a place in the nave, just in -front of the organ.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Sera Ketill appeared in the pulpit, a dead silence -filled the church, as if all had ceased to breathe. For a -moment the priest stood silent, with a thoughtful mien. -Then he spoke—a little unsteadily at first, and fumbling with -his fingers at the notes before him. But soon he gained -power, and spoke out strongly and in a clear, resonant voice. -His hands clutched the edge of the pulpit with such force -that the knuckles showed white.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Brethren in Christ,” he began, “before proceeding to -interpret the text for today, I have a painful duty to perform—a -painful duty indeed. Let me therefore fortify myself -by supplication. I ask you all to say with me the Lord’s -Prayer:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy -Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, -as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And -forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass -against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver -us from evil: For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the -glory, for ever and ever. Amen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>Sera Ketill wiped his brow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes: Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. -And we will serve Thee only. Grant us strength that no -earthly ties may keep us from Thee and Thy way. That -our duty to Thee may ever be set before all else; that we -may willingly take up our cross and bear it in patience as -did Thy well-beloved Son.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill paused a moment, and then continued:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Brethren in Christ, we all know how the Son of God -cleansed the Temple at Jerusalem. Today a like duty is -laid upon us, the meanest of His servants. To the Almighty, -this poor house of prayer is no less sacred than the great -Temple; it is the House of the Lord, and no evil must be -suffered to dwell therein. And those who have given offence -to God cannot be suffered to enter His House until they -have begged of Him forgiveness for their sins, kneeling before -him with a humble and a contrite heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is here in our midst an old man who is a cause of -offence among this congregation, together with his son, the -sharer of his sin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The son took to wife a woman out of his father’s house. -And the woman has given birth to a child that cannot be -the offspring of her husband. Whose, then, is the child? -It is said that the old man is the father. I have seen the -child, and I cannot but believe that it must have been born -earlier than is said. Indeed, I am certain of this. And my -wife has seen the child, and can testify to the same. The -woman, then, has borne a child in sin. But who is the father?</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Until this matter is made clear, until the parentage of -this child is established according to the laws of the Church, -we cannot tolerate among us those from whom this offence -is come. We cannot suffer them to worship God under the -same roof.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And now, Ørlygur à Borg, and you, Ormarr Ørlygsson, -I call on you, in the name of God, to leave this holy place. -Amen.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma leaned over towards Ørlygur and grasped his arm. -From the commencement of her husband’s speech she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>divined his intention, and now in a moment she realized -what had been vague to her before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur sat motionless throughout his son’s denunciation, -but his brow was firmly knit, and a strange light shone in -his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Ketill finished, Ormarr rose to leave the church. -Passing by the pulpit, he looked straight at his brother; -both men were deadly pale. Ormarr stood still for a -moment, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You are playing a dangerous game, brother Ketill.” -Then he passed on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But now Ørlygur rose to his feet, Alma still clinging to -his arm, and called out in a loud, firm voice:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ormarr!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr stopped, looked back, and strode to his father’s -side.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma still held the old man’s arm. She clung to him, -and begged imploringly: “Do not leave me here; take me -back with you to Borg. Let me come with you and stay -with you there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur patted her trembling hands, and said gently; -“Ormarr will look after you, my dear.” And to Ormarr -he said: “Go with her home, and protect her, whatever happens. -Do not let her leave Borg unless by her own desire. -Be kind to her, my son. And now go, both of you. I will -come presently.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Alma held Ormarr back, and they did not leave the -church.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had followed them down the aisle toward the -door. Then he turned back, not noticing that they remained -inside the church. When he had left them, old Kata emerged -from her corner, and going up to Ormarr, asked: “May I -come with you to Borg and stay?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma caught her hand, and Ormarr nodded in consent. -Alma was trembling pitifully; Ormarr and Kata had to support -her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur à Borg walked back toward the pulpit, stopped in -front of it, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>“This is the House of God. But it seems that the Evil -One has usurped His place. I am to be driven out from it—well -and good. But before I go, let me tell what all these -righteous folk are full of zeal to know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And pointing to the priest in the pulpit, he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is the father of the child.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Alma heard the old man’s words, it was as if the -inward tension of the past months had suddenly given way. -Her features relaxed, she ceased to tremble, and her eyes -lost their fire. She felt as if she were sinking into a sea of -mist. And then to nothingness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The light of her mind was suddenly extinguished, her soul -had taken flight, back to the eternity whence it had come. -Only her body remained, panting, unharmed, a living monument -to that which had gone, an empty dwelling, that has -not yet crumbled, though the last living thing it sheltered, -the last thought, is gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A wave of astonishment swept through the congregation -at Ørlygur’s revelation. Then a moment after all was quiet -once more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill was still in the pulpit, pale as a corpse. He -had reckoned with every possibility save only this; no form -of defence, no counter-attack, but he would have had his -answer ready. But this.... It was not like his father.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was all over now. The words that meant his destruction -were spoken. And yet he was still alive. The earth -had not swallowed him up, no fire had descended from heaven -to consume him. He was unhurt; ruined beyond help, yet -he stood there as if nothing had happened. It seemed somehow -ridiculous.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur faced his son, speaking directly to him:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How could you do this thing? And how could ever God -permit it? How could He tolerate a hypocrite in His House? -My son, I do not hate you, and yet I say: Be thou accursed -until repentance and charity have filled your soul. Ay, I -curse my son, not because I hate him, but because of my -love for him. Accursed—be accursed until our Heavenly -Father shall have let the glory of His goodness penetrate into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>your soul, and the darkness of the Evil One give place to -light. May your soul never rest, and may it never leave its -earthly dwelling, until Almighty God has given the sign of -His forgiveness!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The congregation sat in awed silence while Ørlygur was -speaking. When the old man had finished, he turned to leave -the church. But he tottered, and would have fallen had he -not grasped at the side of a seat for support.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr hurried to his side, leaving Kata to look after -Alma. Ørlygur sank helpless into his son’s arms. The congregation -looked on as if spellbound; no one moved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man put his hand to his heart and murmured; -“I am dying. Heavenly Father, into thy hands I commend -my spirit.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr laid him down on the floor of the church, and stood -bending over him, at a loss what next to do. The old man -seemed trying to speak. Ormarr put his ear close to his -father’s mouth, and caught the words:</p> - -<p class='c004'> “... home ... to Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They were the last words Ørlygur à Borg ever uttered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr felt his father’s heart and pulse—it was all over. -Lifting the body tenderly in his arms, he carried it out of the -church.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Old Kata, standing by the entrance, crossed herself and -muttered something about the ways of the Lord.... Then -to herself she added:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So it was <em>his</em> death the ravens came to tell!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Kata took the unconscious Alma by the hand and -followed after Ormarr and his burden.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When they had left, an old peasant rose and walked out -of the church. Then the congregation followed, walking with -downcast eyes, a few only casting furtive glances in the -direction of the pulpit, where Sera Ketill stood.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr carried his father across the churchyard to the -horses, Kata and Alma following close behind. When he -saw his sister-in-law’s condition, he shivered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata was watching him. “Ay,” she said, “her poor -troubled soul’s found rest at last. And we should thank the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>Lord that He took her reason. Let me come and nurse her—she’ll -need no other help as long as I live.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was puzzled to think how he should get his father’s -body and the two women home, with but two horses for the -journey. Sleipnir could easily carry him and his father’s -body. With a side-saddle, Alma could have mounted the -second horse, Kata leading it. As it was, the women would -have to walk, and he must ride at a foot-pace the whole -way. There was nothing else to be done that he could -see.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was on the point of telling Kata his plan when he -perceived the congregation crowding round. The old peasant -who had first left the church came up to him, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You will let us carry the old chief home to Borg?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr turned on him furiously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have killed my father among you; not one of you -shall touch his body.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the old peasant would not give way. His voice was -thick with emotion as he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We have done a great injustice to your father. You -will not forbid us now to make amends as far as we can. -Had he lived, we should have come to him, to ask his forgiveness. -And for all that you are his son, you know him little -if you think he would have sent us away unheard. He was -too generous for that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr saw that there were tears in the man’s eyes. He -glanced round the circle, and saw everywhere bowed heads -and evident distress. And suddenly he remembered his -father’s dream.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“True,” he said. “It is your right to pay him the last -honour on earth. Carry him home.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A bier was found, and the party moved off, with Ormarr -at the head. Alma, with eyes staring blankly before her, -walked between him and old Kata.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All the others, men, women, and children, followed on foot, -leading their horses. Never had the parish seen so impressive -a funeral train, nor such a numerous following.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They moved but slowly, step by step, all the long road to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>Borg, the men relieving one another at the bier. As soon -as the body was lifted up, they commenced with one accord to -sing the beautiful funeral hymn:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>“<i><span lang="no" xml:lang="no">Alt eins og blomstrid eina.</span></i>”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>They sang through all the verses, and when it was ended, -another hymn was sung; afterwards, the first again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Singing and sobbing, the procession moved on—a strange -sight to see. The birds circled round the train in silence, -forgetting for a moment their spring song. But the sky was -clear and blue as before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So they passed along the way. When they reached the -river, Ormarr took Alma and Kata in his arms and carried -them across. The men waded over likewise, leading their -horses; only the women and children crossed on horseback.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last they came to Borg. The body of the chief was -laid on a big table in the hall, and another hymn was sung. -The followers were about to move off, when Ormarr turned -to them and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have carried my father home, and I thank you. I -know that he was always your friend, and if you will accept -the friendship I offer you now, it would be as he wished. -I hope to hold the place he held amongst you—that of a -brother and friend. And if you have need of me in any -way, you know where to find me. You must be tired and -hungry now. If you will break bread under my roof now, -before you return, then I take it that the good-will that was -of old between Borg and its neighbours is there still.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he had finished speaking, he had to shake hands -with all. At his suggestion the women went out to the kitchen -and pantries to prepare food.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was late, and all had been well cared for, when the guests -rode away. But, before they left, the whole staff of servants -and hands who had been at Borg that spring had returned, -having obtained release from their later masters, and permission -from Ormarr to re-enter their former service.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alma never recovered. She wandered about like a living -corpse. Old Kata nursed her as well as she could, consoling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>herself and others with the thought that she did not suffer. -Alma was no longer conscious of joy or pain.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Sera Ketill stood in the pulpit, watching his people leave -the church. He made no movement, but followed all with -observant eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He saw how the scene had affected his wife, and that she -had sought refuge with his father. And he understood that -he had lost her for ever. Then, marking the change in her -expression, he suspected the truth: that she had lost her -reason on hearing her husband denounced by his own -father.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He listened to his father’s curse, and saw him sink to -the ground and die. He heard the congregation singing -hymns outside the church. Then gradually all sound died -away ... the last he heard was a vague murmur—fragments -of the singing borne by errant winds towards him through -the open door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Still he remained in the pulpit, leaning on his arms, as -if nothing had happened. He did not think. A scornful -smile seemed frozen on his lips; he suddenly realized that -he was sneering, and wondered how long he had been doing -so. And then it came to him painfully that he could not rest -until he knew what it was all about; he must wake, and look -at things and see. And suddenly it dawned upon him that -he was sneering at himself. He drew himself up and laughed -aloud, as if in an endeavour to break the terrible stillness of -the church. He marked the harsh, uncanny sound of his own -laughter. And, stepping down from the pulpit, he left the -church.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From the churchyard he could see the funeral procession -moving towards Borg. He watched it for a while, tried to -laugh, but in vain. He went home, and found the house -empty. Looked into the servants’ quarters—the place was -deserted. He went out again and searched about outside.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Coming back to the house, after making sure that there -was not a soul to be seen, he found a dog beside the door. -The animal slunk away. Ketill spoke to it softly, beckoned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>to it, trying with friendly voice and gesture to call it to -him. But the dog would not come, and finally ran away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill looked after it without any sign of emotion. Then -he went indoors and sat down at his writing-table. He sat -there all through the day, still wearing his vestments. -Thoughts crowded in upon him—thoughts that he could not -drive away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had sinned against life, taking the gift of life in vain. -And now he was alone, an outcast, rejected and despised by -all. Even a dog disowned him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had sinned against God, taking His name in vain. -The House of God was closed to him. Alone, cursed by his -father and abandoned by his God!</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had sinned against love; he had used his utmost efforts -to ruin the lives of two innocent women. God had intervened -to save them: the one through the love of human beings, the -other by taking away her reason. And he—he was left alone -and shunned by all. The world was full of love around him, -on every side were human beings, his fellow-creatures, loving -and being loved. To him only love was denied; for him alone -there was no kindly thought in any single heart. All who -knew him hated and despised him. He had crushed the -flower of love underfoot—it would bloom no more on his -way, nor gladden him by its fragrance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alone. And what should he do now? Why could he not -sink to the earth and die? Why was not his body given to -the worms? Why could he not rot away, and return to dust? -What had he to do with life now? Or was it that life had -not yet done with him?</p> - -<p class='c004'>He made no effort to check the current of his thoughts, -but suffered them to come and go as they pleased.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears flowed down his cheeks. There was a strange sensation -at his heart now, as if despair and loneliness were to -become a source of joy; something akin to what the earth -must feel when spring casts loose the fetters of winter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sat on. The faint, scarcely perceptible northern twilight -crept into the room; he did not mark it. He had forgotten -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>the existence of time. His only thought was that he was -alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And suddenly he fell on his knees. On hands and knees -he crept out of the room, through the passage, out into the -courtyard and across the enclosure, through the churchyard -up to the door of the church.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He pressed his forehead against the granite steps, and -sobbed bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sun showed in the north, a dull red glow, with the -sky deeper and darker round it. Farther off hung clouds, -a delicate rose, neatly and regularly in tier upon tier. Night, -but the sun was there. The meadows were thickly veiled with -dew. All nature was at peace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But before the door of one poor dark little church lay -the priest, his forehead pressed against the cold stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And for the first time in his life he prayed from his heart -to the God in whom he had never before believed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Peace, Lord, give peace to my soul!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But there was no peace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill lay there long, sobbing and praying. Then, rising, -he stood with bowed head and clasped hands, and whispered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lord, I will seek Thee and Thy peace. My life shall be -a prayer and a cry to Thee. And Thou who hast said: ‘Seek, -and ye shall find; ask, and it shall be given unto you’—Thou -wilt not deny me peace. A humble and a contrite heart....”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span> - <h2 class='c007'>BOOK III<br /> <span class='large'>GUEST THE ONE-EYED</span></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>A grey, dull day—not a glimpse of the sun since -morning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A man came hobbling along the little-used path, -a solitary figure under the leaden sky. The clouds hung so -low that it seemed as if the heavens had fallen, and were -supported only by the mountain peaks on the horizon. A -grey, dull day—and the man’s spirit was grey and dull within -him. All that the day had given him was a fragment of a -song that had sprung into his mind; he hummed it half-consciously -as he went along.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“No sun over the sand,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Waste, waste.</div> - <div class='line'>No eagle over land,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Dead, dead.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>His voice was deep and hollow-sounding; in its depth a -ring of loneliness and unsatisfied longing. There seemed a -power of fate and sorrow behind it, as behind the dull roar of -the sea. The eternal restlessness of life, and the boundless -seeking of the soul quivered in this old man’s voice. Strong, -yet soft, its tones had power at times to move those who -heard to sadness in themselves.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt a peculiar comfort in the sound of his own voice -when wandering thus alone; and he was a man who wandered -much alone. And for all that he carried no heavy burden, -his steps often faltered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His right leg was crippled, which made journeying none -the easier; the stout staff he carried was but a poor substitute -for a sound limb.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Despite his infirmity, he tramped the country far and wide. -Just now, he was on his way across the chain of hills to the -north of Hofsfjordur, known as the Dark Mountains.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>He had never been in Hofsfjordur. All the other districts -round he had visited many a time in his twenty years of -vagabond life, but somehow he had always passed by this. -If any asked him why, he might answer that it was because -of the bad roads. Yet he was well used to roads that were -no better.</p> - -<p class='c004'>However it might be, this time he was on his way. The -day was drawing to a close, and he had still far to go. The -night would be dark, and hopeless then to find his way; there -was nothing for it but to find some sheltered spot where he -could rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was thoroughly tired, and his lameness was more marked -than usual; his sound leg too was aching from its unfair -share of the work. He rocked along uncertainly, like a -machine on the verge of breakdown, or a windmill making its -last rotations before a calm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His heavy coat dragged like the wings of a wounded bird. -It was a picture well in keeping with the landscape, the man -with his long white beard, the tangled grey hair showing -below a big soft hat of the indeterminate colour of age. -From beneath his bushy brows showed the glimpse of an eye—he -had but one—almost unearthly in its intelligence and -penetrating glance. His whole appearance, with his beggar’s -pouch and limping gait, presented an almost unreal effect, -harmonizing to a striking degree with the surroundings. He -seemed to be in his element in this waste tract, beneath the -low-lying clouds that at times almost enveloped him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He limped on, a monarch in the realm of mist and solitude.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But there was nothing of power in his thoughts. He simply -felt at home here, and in no way disheartened at the -prospect of a night in the open.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again and again he hummed his fragment of a song. It -was his way to make up such refrains as he walked, humming -them hour after hour to while away the tedium of the road. -Also, it was a form of expression, giving relief to his feelings -and easing his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last, after innumerable repetitions of his melancholy -chant, he fell silent. Not all at once, but stopping for a little, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>then taking it up and stopping again, with longer and longer -pauses between. And his glance grew dull, his brow wrinkled -and furrowed. Night was at hand; he stopped on a sudden -as if to make a survey of his surroundings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Here am I, a worm in all creation,” he muttered. “And -the day has left me up on a desolate hill. Make haste, Eye, -and find us a place to rest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Gradually the fog lifted, and the sky cleared. The darkness, -however, grew more intense, and the contours of the hills -were soon almost indistinguishable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wanderer glanced around, searching for some corner -that might offer some little shelter. Comfort and warmth -were not to be expected in these regions. But at length he -spied two boulders leaning one against the other. “Like -brothers,” he thought to himself, and added aloud:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good evening, brothers!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sense of loneliness vanished, and his heart was glad; -he seemed to feel already a bond of kindliness between him -and this his night’s abode. Pleasanter thoughts rose in his -mind, and he gripped his faithful staff with a heartiness that -might once have been extended to his fellow-men. Now, -the staff was almost his only friend. He spoke to it aloud, -thanking it for help during the day; he even felt somewhat -shamed at not having done so before. He dug and scraped -away a heap of moss and little stones, to fill the northern -opening between the boulders, making a kind of cave.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This done, he opened his wallet and took out some food, -given him earlier in the day by some kindly soul, and ate -it, lying in the shelter of his cave. When the meal was -finished, he rose to his knees, and hid his face for a moment -in his hands, as if silently returning thanks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then after some shifting about, he curled himself up in -the most convenient position within the cramped space at -his disposal. He patted the hard stones, and spoke, half -aloud, as his thoughts came.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Feel strangely happy this evening. Not lonely now, just -at home. Nice soft sand here to lie on. And the stones -that lie there saying nothing, they are like friends. Battered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>about, like me, by sun and storms and time. Ay, we’ve much -in common, for all they stay still and I’m for ever moving -from place to place. Who knows—perhaps this night may be -my longest at last. Must come some time—some night be -night for ever. If so, ’tis a good place for old bones to -rest. Maybe there comes One tonight to take the unrest out -of my soul and give me the peace I’ve sought. If so, why, -call up all the worms and creeping things that live on flesh, -and make a feast of me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Drowsiness crept over him; he closed his eyes and prayed:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lord, see the end of one more day in Thy service. Lord, -may it please Thee soon to lift the burden from my shoulders—the -burden of sin. Lord, Thou knowest my heart is full -of penitence and distress; Lord, grant me soon Thy peace. -Amen!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He ceased, and lay for a while without opening his eyes. -Then, turning over on his side, he huddled himself up for -warmth, and resigned himself to what the night might bring—rest, -or the fever of sleeplessness.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Morning broke with the clear brightness of an -autumn sky above the hills.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the first sight of dawn, the old man limped -out from his cave, beat his hands together, and stamped -his sound leg repeatedly, to get some warmth into his body. -And as he did so, he thought:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So! Once more Death has passed me by. Not worth -taking....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, penitently, he whispered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lord, Thy will be done! Thanks be to Thee for the night -that is gone, and for all trials that are sent from Thee. Be -not angry, Lord, if I long for the peace of Death.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sun came up, and the man sat down on a stone, bared -his head and stretched out his hands to meet the warmth of -the first rays; he smiled towards the light, that gave but -little warmth as yet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the first cold of waking had passed, he ate his last -scraps of food, and prepared to move.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The mood of last night and his gloomy thoughts seemed -strange to remember now; he smiled involuntarily at the -difference between his feeling then and now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Never twice alike,” he murmured. “What’s truth, I -wonder? Can there be any truth in thoughts and feelings -that change between dark and dawn? Where’s the note that -lasts and does not change?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned to go, when something made him pause. And, -smiling indulgently at himself for his foolishness, he stooped -and picked away the moss and stones with which he had -closed the opening the night before. Then he patted the two -rocks that had sheltered him, and went on his way with an -easier mind. Who could say? Perhaps they were lonely -there, and would have been sorry to feel the way barred to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>the passage of the wind that told so many things as it sang -through the sharp-edged cleft.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He limped off, moving stiffly at first, his limbs still feeling -the cold. He found the path he had left the night before in -his search for a resting-place, and went on his way towards -Hofsfjordur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sun rose higher in the heavens, and dried the dew -from the rocks, warming their surface where they faced it, -while the northward sides were still dark with moisture. In -the shade, the moss glistened with dew. As far as eye could -see, there was no growth save the brown and green of moss. -But the old wanderer felt quite content; he was at home -among these rock-strewn hills, so rich in their weird grouping -and fantastic outlines. He was among friends here, and -as he passed the massive boulders he touched them with his -hand caressingly, grateful for the warmth that passed into -his blood. The sun had given it, and they passed it on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He reached Langeryg, a narrow ridge between two steep -ravines, and stopped to look around him. Farther on was a -meadow of pale green grass, but not a living soul was to be -seen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Slowly he went on his way, keeping carefully to the middle -between the steep and dangerous precipices on either hand. -A sinister place this, and of ill repute, perilous especially in -mist or darkness. Even now, in the light of day, the wind -moaned dismally round the sharp rocks, to the one side, that -known as Death’s Cliff, though, strangely enough, no sound -came from the other, that was called the Silent Cliff. There -was a legend current that the two had been daughters of a -king—one good, the other wicked, one dark, the other fair. -And the silent chasm was the good princess who sat listening -in horror to the evil doings of her sister. And it was said -that if any could be found to cast himself voluntarily over -the Silent Cliff, he would escape unharmed, and the ravines -would close for ever.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Half-way along the track, the old man felt tempted to peer -down over the edge of Death’s Cliff. Mastering a feeling of -dread, he crept cautiously to the brink, and looked down, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>but could discern nothing in the darkness below. Suddenly -a great black bird fluttered up out of the gloom, and he -started back. The bird uttered a hoarse cry—and the man -smiled to himself. Only a raven, that had been to visit -the princess—or perhaps to see if there were any unfortunate -creatures there on which to feast.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With a sigh of relief he drew back from his perilous position, -and threw himself down on a patch of grass to rest. -Grass was a welcome thing among these barren hills, and the -sight of it gladdened him. He found himself studying each -little stalk as if it were a wonder to be remembered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And suddenly tears rose to his eyes; his lips quivered, and -he murmured:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ay, there are many little joys in life....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He glanced down the path ahead; first a flat stretch of -grass, and then over a long, stony rise. There at the top -he knew was a cairn, from which one could look out over -Hofsfjordur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Somehow or other, he felt disinclined to go on, and yet -there was something that urged him forward. He felt nervous -and anxious, as a boy about to undertake some responsible -task for the first time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When at last he reached the summit of the slope, he stopped -and looked down. There it was at last, the shore where he -had spent his childhood. There lay the blue fjord, the rockiness, the glittering stream, the grassy slopes—all that he had -so often thought of with affectionate longing. Ay, he had -come to love it all—since he had left it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears dimmed his vision as he looked. And yet he was -happy. He had crossed the boundary now; he was coming -home.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>He had been standing for some time leaning against -the cairn, when suddenly he heard a dog barking. -He turned in the direction of the sound, and -perceived a young man approaching. At sight of a fellow-creature, -he forgot all else.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The newcomer called to his dog, and the animal was -silent at once. But the voice of the stranger went to the -wanderer’s heart as had never a voice before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He limped towards him, and held out his hand, a glad -smile on his wrinkled face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two exchanged greetings, and stood for a moment -taking stock of each other. The evident emotion of the -older man was not lost upon the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A beautiful day,” said the latter after a pause.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do your sheep stray as far afield as this?” asked the -other. He seemed to be taking in every detail of the -stranger’s appearance as he spoke. He listened, moreover, -rather to his voice than to his words, though the -other was not aware of this—as little as he guessed that the -old man had seen his face many years ago, and recognized -him now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Who are you?” asked the young man, somewhat ill -at ease.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A poor wanderer,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And your name?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man hesitated. “My name,” he said at last—“there’s -none remembers it for aught but ill.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where are you going now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Going? I go from place to place, and live by grace -of God and my fellow-men. I am going to Hofsfjordur. -I have never been there before.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you will come to Borg, no doubt?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>“Yes,” said the old man, with a queer smile. “I shall -come to Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have not seen any sheep on your way? Or any -sign?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay, naught but a raven flying up from below Death’s -Cliff. ’Tis the only living creature I have seen. Were -you going farther?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. I can see as far as I need from here. We can -go down together; I have looked enough for today.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you lost many sheep?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. Only a white lamb with black feet and head. It -was a sensible beast, and strong, when it went up with -the rest in the spring—I can hardly think any fox could -have harmed it. But it was a favourite, and I must -find it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You are from Borg, then?” queried the old man, looking -away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. My name is Ørlygur.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ørlygur the younger, that will be?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is no other now. Ørlygur, my grandfather, died -many years ago.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, that is true. He died in the church at Hof. I was -there at the time. True....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So you <em>have</em> been here before?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No—no. It was—my other self that was here then.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young man seemed busy with thoughts of his own; -he took no notice of the strange reply. He stood gazing -for some moments into distance, then turned and looked -searchingly at the wanderer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you must have known Sera Ketill? He is dead, -too.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, I knew Sera Ketill,” repeated the old man. And -in a curiously toneless voice he went on: “He is dead, too. -Yes....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a long pause. The young man realized that -he could not here, in broad daylight, ask all he would of -this stranger, who, he perceived, could tell him much. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>Such talk was for the dark, when men can speak together -without reserve.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you come back with me now, to Borg?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. I must go elsewhere.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But you will come to Borg? You give me your word?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I give you my word. No beggar ever came this way and -did not ask for alms at Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was somewhat embarrassed, and said in a kindly -tone:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Let me give you some food now. We can share it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Heaven bless you,” said the old man.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked down the slope together, and found a seat -on a grassy mound. Ørlygur opened his haversack and -took out first a new pair of shoes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Take these, will you not?” he asked shyly. “Yours are -badly worn. I brought these with me in case my own gave -out. But they will last me home easily.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man took them gladly, and let his fingers glide -caressingly along the clean soles. He put them on, and -looked up with deep gratitude in his face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Fine shoes,” he said, and laughed happily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It does not take much to please you,” said Ørlygur, -with a smile. “And now let us have something to eat.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They ate in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. -Ørlygur was watching his companion, and noticed now for -the first time that one eye was closed. The man’s appearance -seemed less repulsive now than at first. Evidently, -one who had seen better days.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the old man had finished he wiped his mouth and -murmured something to himself, then added aloud:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks be to God.” And he reached out for Ørlygur’s -hand in thanks, looking at it closely as he did so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man’s touch had a curious effect upon Ørlygur, at -once pleasing and the reverse. He was well used to shaking -hands with men, whether friends or strangers, and -did so usually without a thought. But with this beggar -it was different; he felt an impulse to embrace him, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>at the same time shrank from giving him his hand at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked on side by side, but for a long time no -word was spoken. Often the old man stopped, and leaned -on his staff to rest. At length they reached the point -where the road branched off to Nordurdalur. Here they -halted, and sat down without a word.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man was the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You will cross the stream now, I take it, and take the -shorter road. I am going down alongside the stream. I -can reach Bolli in an hour’s time. There is still some one -living there?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You must know the neighbourhood well,” said Ørlygur. -“Yes; a widow lives there with her daughter.” And he -blushed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man noticed it and smiled. “Here is a young -man who is still a child,” he thought. “Cannot speak of -the widow’s daughter without blushing. If I had not been -a stranger he would not have spoken of her at all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Aloud, he said: “I hope they’ll give me leave to sleep -in a barn tonight. You’re not going that way yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked aside. “No,” he said shortly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Shall I tell them I’ve met you—by way of greeting?” he -asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur did not look up. The old man rose and came -towards him. “Good-bye,” he said, offering his hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And thank you for good company.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye and thanks.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur sat looking after the old man as he went. Then, -suddenly springing to his feet, he ran after him and asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you not tell me your name?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Men call me ‘Guest the One-eyed,’” answered the -wanderer quietly, and smiled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur said nothing, but his face showed that the name -was not unknown to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye, again, Ørlygur à Borg.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye, Guest One-eyed, and God be with you,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>answered Ørlygur reverently, pressing the other’s hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wanderer went on his way, following the course of -the stream. Ørlygur watched him till he was out of sight, -and stood for a long while looking down the way he had -gone.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The sun had vanished behind the western heights -when Ørlygur at last roused himself from gazing -down the valley. The figure had disappeared long -since.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The name of Guest the One-eyed had always seemed -to him a part of some fantastic story; now, however, it -had become a reality; he had seen and spoken to the -man.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He knew that this Guest was a wandering beggar, and -had heard many stories current concerning him. He knew -also that Guest the One-eyed had never before visited Hofsfjordur—possibly -it was this fact which had led him to -regard the stories as stories only, without reality. Now -that he had learned that the man had apparently lived -in Hofsfjordur before, under another name, it seemed -strange to him—it had never struck him before that the -name of Guest the One-eyed must have had some natural -origin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As with all young and simple folk who had heard of -Guest the One-eyed, Ørlygur felt an affection for the -singular character of report. Many were the instances on -record of kindness and courtesy shown by the wanderer in -his journeyings. He had lost one eye in saving a child -from a burning farm; his crippled leg was the result of his -having flung himself in the way of a sledge that was hurrying -towards a dangerous cliff—the life he had thus saved -being that of no more romantic personage than an elderly -and by no means beautiful servant girl. This latter incident -had been the cause of some ill-placed amusement -among the peasantry, for it was known that the girl had -been merely making a foolhardy attempt to win the heart -of one of the labourers near by. Her rescuer, however, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>before leaving the farm, made it his business to see that the -marriage was duly accomplished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur knew, also, that Guest the One-eyed had a peculiar -faculty of getting over difficulties and removing misunderstandings; -in more than one instance he had been the means -of ending an irreconcilable feud and establishing firm friendship -in its stead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A legendary hero in real life, and gifted with wisdom far -beyond that of his fellows. Yet he never used his powers -for his own advantage. Nobler than those around him, -he was nevertheless content to tramp the country in rags, -with a beggar’s staff. In point of intelligence, he seemed -fitted to be the adviser of kings; yet he chose to live alone, -and to seek his rest in barns and outhouses. All of which -led folk to look upon him as the personification of something -beneficent—the spirit of kindliness and good-will. And -Ørlygur himself had felt the same.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He felt a great desire to follow after the old man; a craving -for adventure within him even suggested the idea of -throwing in his lot with him, and sharing his wanderings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But as the sun went down, he woke from his dreams and, -pulling himself together, made his way rapidly towards -home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Half-way over the stream he stopped suddenly; the water -seemed like a flood of gold pouring towards him, glittering -with strange reflections in the evening light. And the play -of colour, with the murmur of the stream, held him for a -moment entranced. Was it a dream, or had he really met -Guest the One-eyed in the flesh?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once across, however, the spell was broken, and Ørlygur -was a boy again, filled with no more romantic fancy for the -moment than an impulse to run races with his dog. He -called to the animal, and they raced away, tearing along at -top speed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he ran, Ørlygur was conscious that he was eager to -get home and relate his adventure; to tell of his conversation -with the One-eyed Guest, and announce the arrival of -the hero.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>He raced on homeward, leaving the dog far behind. The -animal followed at its best, till it saw him leap the fence -of the enclosure, when it gave up and lay down panting -breathlessly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur likewise could run no more, and slackened to a -walk. Noticing his foster-father approaching, he made towards -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr Ørlygsson had seen the lad come tearing down the -slope, his hat off, and his hair streaming in the wind. He -knew how the boy delighted in long walks and violent outbursts -of energy, but this exuberance of spirits caused him -some uneasiness at times—he knew that a day would come -when the natural safety-valve of youth would no longer -suffice. Yet he could not suppress a smile of pleasure at -sight of the handsome lad as he raced away at a speed which -bade fair to tire even his horses and dogs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Often he reflected how like the boy was to his father—the -same fair hair, the same blue eyes, the same splendid build; -the figure of a young god.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he thought, with a mingling of unconscious love and -conscious hate, of his brother Ketill, who had disappeared -the night after that terrible scene that had caused his father’s -death and lost his wife her reason. It was said -that he had drowned himself—he had last been seen on the -cliffs near the fjord. True, the body had never been recovered. -Still, it might have been carried out to sea.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After the revelation of that day, when the facts had been -made common knowledge, and seeing that Ketill had disappeared, -in all likelihood never to return, Ormarr had -ceased to give out Ørlygur, Ketill’s and Runa’s child, as his -own. He and Runa had continued to live as man and wife, -but no children had been born to them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They lived peacefully and happily at the farm, with -never an unkind word between them. At all times, whether -they spoke or were silent, there was a mutual bond of perfect -confidence and affection between them. Life had -brought them together in a strange and merciless fashion, -but the innate good sense and nobility of both had turned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>all to the good. They knew that they had never been lovers -in the sense in which love is generally understood, yet, as -the years passed, there grew up between them a happiness -of each in each that filled their lives. And their mutual -trust gave them a surer foundation on which to rest than -any lovers’ love could give.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur rarely gave a thought to the fact that Ormarr -was not his real father. He knew it, because Ormarr had -once, in the presence of Runa, told him how matters stood. -No details had been given, but the facts were plainly stated: -Ormarr had promised to tell him the whole story some day, -if he wished. But Ørlygur perceived that the subject was a -painful one, and had asked no further since.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Had it not been from fragments of information gathered -in course of time from one or another outside the home, he -would have known but little. What he did know made towards -the conclusion that his father had been a bad man, -who had wrought harm to his own kin. But strangely -enough, he, Ørlygur, did not suffer thereby. The misfortunes -that had come after seemed to have wiped away, as -it were, the stain on the family honour, and as years went -by, the recollection of Sera Ketill seemed gradually to lose -its association with the house of Borg. The story of Sera -Ketill lived on—a gruesome tale enough in itself. But it -had become a thing apart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Ørlygur, growing up at Borg, became one of the -family there, until it was almost forgotten that he was in -any way related to his father, Sera Ketill of unblessed memory. -Ørlygur was aware of this, and at times could feel a -kind of remorse at the thought—for, after all, his father was -his father.... And, as he grew up, he tried to picture -to himself what his father had really been. In his inmost -heart he could not quite believe him so utterly evil as report -made out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But there was no one whom he could ask—no one, indeed, -to whom he could even speak on the subject at all. He -could not bring himself to open a painful subject with his -foster-father or his mother. There was only old Kata, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>faithful attendant of the poor witless Danish Lady. And -Kata’s replies to his questioning were always wrapped up -in mysterious, incomprehensible allusions. Ørlygur, in common -with others, regarded her as entering on her second -childhood, though she was sound and active as ever in body.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was still out of breath when he reached Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well,” said the latter, “did you find the lamb? You -look very pleased with yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” said Ørlygur. “But I found—whom do you think? -Guest the One-eyed! Right up at the very edge of the pastures, -in the hills. And I went with him as far as Nordura. -I didn’t know who he was till we said good-bye. And I -gave him my shoes, and he is wearing them now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur’s delight and pride at this last fact were so evident -that Ormarr could not help smiling.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why didn’t you bring him back home with you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He is coming. He promised faithfully he would. He -was too tired now. Said he was going down the stream to -one of the nearest farms there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr did not fail to remark that the boy had avoided -mentioning Bolli, but he made no sign of having noticed -anything. He had an idea that Ørlygur cherished a fancy -for the daughter there, but it seemed wiser to wait before -taking any definite action. He was not at all pleased with -the idea of a match between Ørlygur and the child of the -so-called “widow” at Bolli. But he was loth to interfere -with the boy’s affairs—after all, he was of an age to choose -for himself. And Ormarr knew too well that the men of -his race were apt to be headstrong in affairs of the heart. -On the other hand, if he were mistaken—if the affair were -not really serious, his interference would do no good. If -the damage were already done, and Ørlygur had made up -his mind, then there was nothing to be done but wait and -see.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur himself did not know whether his parents were -aware of his affection for Snebiorg, the girl from Bolli. But -he was convinced that they would not agree with his choice. -Even if they did not oppose it, he knew it would pain them.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>Up to now, his will and conscience had always been in -accord with theirs. In this case he was quite clear as to his -own feelings, but was loth to bring matters to a head. There -was time enough—no definite promise had as yet been given -on either side, though there was certainly a tacit understanding -between them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and Ørlygur walked across the enclosure together.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And what else did he say—the old man?” asked Ormarr.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was at a loss for an answer. He could not -remember anything else of importance, and it seemed somehow -unsatisfactory to have met the celebrated vagabond, -renowned for his wisdom, and bring back no utterance -worthy of remark. He said nothing—and Ormarr did not -press the question, but walked beside him with the quiet, -peculiar smile that had become characteristic of him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But when they reached the house, Ørlygur found himself -once more a person of importance. Old Kata came hobbling -towards him, and laid her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have met him, and spoken. And felt joy of the -meeting—more than with any other you have ever met. -The Lord is great, and our eyes are blind. Yes; he will -come now, and all will be well.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata hobbled off again to her mistress, whom she never left -for any length of time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two men stood watching her with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“She still has the gift, you see,” observed Ormarr. “No -need to tell her that you had met with Guest the One-eyed -in the mountains.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Alma dragged on her timeless, feelingless existence -under old Kata’s care. Age had left no mark on -her, though it was twenty years now since the -tragic event that had deprived her of her reason. In the -world about her there had been changes: those who had -been in the prime of life at that time were now aged and -infirm; the children of those days were grown. But Alma -was to all appearances the same as on the day when she had -left the church at Hof, released from suffering by the breakdown -of all capacity to feel or understand. She looked a -trifle healthier—less pale, that was all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And her life now had, despite its essential monotony, a -certain variation of a sort. She smiled happily when the -sun shone, but wept when the clouds hid it from her sight. -Her joys were those of childhood—fine weather, dumb animals, -flowers, and the presence of certain chosen friends. -There were some of her fellow-creatures whom she loved, -without knowing why. Others she disliked no less distinctly, -and contact with them would render her depressed -for days. Strangers, in particular, invariably troubled her -mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In course of time, people had come to attribute this discrimination -to a strange instinct that had taken the place -of the ordinary human intelligence she no longer possessed. -She was still spoken of as the Danish Lady at Hof, though -for years she had not set her foot outside the limits of Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She spoke but little. It seemed as if she had forgotten -not only her native tongue, but also the little Icelandic she -had ever learnt. She picked up odd words and sentences, -however, uttering them afterwards incoherently. And she -had a kind of language of her own invention—a combination -of curious expressions and strange gestures, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>those about her learned to understand. Old Kata was an -adept in this mode of intercourse, and pleased her mistress -by her quickness of understanding.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two women occupied one room, with two windows, in -which they had their favourite seats. They would sit there -for hours, old Kata with her knitting, and Alma gazing at -the world outside, and following with childish interest anything -that might be happening within view. For the most -part, they were silent, but now and again passers-by might -hear them exchanging words in their own unintelligible -form of speech.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had little to do with others, though Alma knew -all the servants and farm hands on the place. All loved -her, and towards old Kata, too, the general feeling was one -of kindly regard.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On Sundays they joined the circle for Bible reading or -singing, after which coffee was handed round, Alma playing -the part of hostess. It was one of the small recurring -pleasures in her life, and both she and Kata found an ever-new -delight in the arrangement.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sometimes the master, Ormarr Ørlygsson, if so disposed, -would bring out his violin and treat his people to an entertainment. -He invariably began with merry tunes, and finished -with strange, heart-stirring themes; the simple listeners -knew nothing of the great composers, but the music had -its own effect on them, and often brought tears to the eyes of -the more impressionable amongst them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he had played thus, Ormarr would leave the room -abruptly; the rest, sitting in silence, would hear him leave -the house. And then the party broke up, each to his work -or play.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Ormarr went off alone into the hills. At times he -might be seen pacing to and fro; sometimes he would find -some spot where he could lie and rest, but he never returned -to the farm until all had retired for the night. There were -always two, however, who waited his return. One was old -Kata, who sat by the window till she saw or heard him -back again—sat weeping, though he never dreamed of any -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>such sympathy on her part. Not till she knew that he was -safely within doors—had fought out that day’s fight with -his God, as she put it to herself—would she go to rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The other was his wife, lying awake in bed till he came. -No words were spoken when he returned; in silence he lay -down at her side, drawing close to her, with one arm round -her neck. Lying thus, rest would come to him and he could -sleep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The only other event in the life of Alma and her aged -nurse was when visitors came to the place. All invariably -came in to pay their respects to the Danish Lady however -brief their stay or how pressing their errand might be. -Some did so from a natural desire to show their sympathy -with one afflicted by God; others from a secret fear that -God would punish them if they did not. And Alma seemed -able to distinguish between those who came of their own -kind will and those who merely obeyed a custom they feared -to break.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Guest the One-eyed limped wearily along by -the side of the stream.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The path he followed wound with many turns, -following the course of the water, and in places quite near -to the edge, the bank sometimes overhanging the riverbed -below. At one spot the river actually tunnelled its way underground -for some few yards, leaving a kind of natural -bridge above. When he reached this spot the wanderer knew -that he was not far from Bolli.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His thoughts were busy with recollection of the young -man he had met up in the hills.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So that was he,” he thought to himself. “A handsome -lad, strong and manly, and of a kindly heart, by his eyes.” -He thought of the evident pleasure with which the boy had -given him the shoes and shared his food with him. Ay, a -true son of his race—little fear of <em>his</em> bringing sorrow upon -Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And the old man’s heart beat faster at the thought that -he would soon see the girl whom Ørlygur had chosen for -his bride. His knowledge of men had enabled him to read -clearly enough the signs of Ørlygur’s feeling; it was evident, -also, that the two young people understood each other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He forgot his weariness and hurried on.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, rounding a bend of the river, he came suddenly -upon the tiny homestead, a cluster of small buildings on a -little piece of rising ground. A thin smoke rose from a -chimney—that must be from the open hearth in the kitchen. -The ground outside was marked by heaps of hay, in regular -rows; a solitary horse was grazing on the hillside, and a -few sheep nosed about among the rocks down by the -river.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For some minutes he stood looking over the place. So -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>this was where the two women passed their quiet lives. -Mother and daughter, living for some reason apart from -their neighbours. The old wanderer knew well enough -that it was often not the worst of human kind that chose to -live aloof from their fellows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he approached the house, a dog ran out barking -angrily. Immediately after, a young woman appeared. At -first sight of the strange figure coming towards her, she -turned as if to go indoors again, but changed her mind and -advanced to meet him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Here is one who is tired,” said she. “Can I help you, -old man?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And she took his arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks, blessed child,” said the old man, with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl looked up at his face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh—you have only one eye!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” answered the stranger, with a chuckle. “Worms -couldn’t wait for it. They’ll have the other one soon, and -the rest of me with it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You should not talk like that,” said the girl, with childish -displeasure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed changed his tone. “Yes,” he said -earnestly. “You are young and wise, and I am old and -foolish. ’Tis not a matter for jesting. What is your name, -child?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Snebiorg is my name. Mother calls me Bagga, but I -don’t let other people call me that—or only one other, perhaps, -if he cares to. And you perhaps, too, because you are -not like other folk.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“One other—if he cares to? Don’t you know whether -he cares to or not?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No—for I have never spoken to him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—are you not lovers, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And you mean to say you have never spoken—only -written letters to each other?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Written? No.” Bagga looked up in surprise. “We -have looked at each other. Isn’t that enough?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>There was a strange earnestness in the old man’s voice as -he answered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Surely it is enough. And are you very fond of him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I love him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked on in silence. Guest the One-eyed wished -to have his message given before going into the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have seen him,” he said. “And I was to bring you -greeting from him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl stopped still and clasped her hand to her breast. -The colour had risen to her cheeks as she spoke of her lover; -now she turned pale. The old man looked at her intently, -taking in her fine profile, her beautiful eyes and lovely hair, -the fineness of her figure. He realized that these two were -destined for each other; that they <em>must</em> love each other at -first sight.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga could hardly speak at first. After a while she -said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have spoken to him? Is it long ago? What did -he say? Did he ask you to bring me greeting?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But you said so just now!” She looked at him with -tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I asked if I should bring you greeting, and he said yes. -And I read more in his eyes. Can you guess what?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That he loves you, and is for ever thinking of you. -That he will always be true to you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That I knew long ago. But how could you know that -it was he?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It needs not long to find out that. Shall I tell you his -name?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” answered the girl, colouring deeply. “Did he -say anything else? Was he looking for a lamb that had -strayed?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, a favourite lamb, and he was afraid some fox -might have harmed it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga looked serious.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>“It is here,” she said hesitatingly. “It strayed over -here early in the summer, and I have been keeping it with -our sheep. I knew it was his, and I could not bear to part -with it. But tonight, when every one is asleep, I will take -it over to Borg. Then he will find it in the morning, and -be glad.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She smiled with pleasure at the thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Can’t you remember any more he said? Did you have -a long talk with him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes—but I have forgotten. He gave me these shoes I -am wearing now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga was immediately keenly interested in the old man’s -shoes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hope you have not worn a hole in them yet. But, if -you have, I will mend them for you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” answered the old man, with a quiet smile. “I am -sorry to say there is nothing to mend.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga blushed again, but added quickly, “But you can -let me set them in oil for you tonight, then they will be -soft in the morning. You will stay here tonight, will you -not?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Gladly, if you will house me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had reached the door of the house, and Bagga led him -through a dark passage into the room. Seated on a bed was -an elderly woman, busy mending some clothes. The visitor -noticed for the first time that the girl’s clothing was almost -as patched as his own. It was not so noticeable, however, -in a pretty girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old woman sat up and stared at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Who is this?” she asked in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A beggar, lady. Peace be with you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman’s glance softened.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Come in,” she said, “and welcome to what we can give. -Sit down. Have you come far?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“From across the Dark Mountains.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So far—and you are lame? Quick, Bagga, make some -coffee.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>Bagga whispered something in her mother’s ear. The -latter looked at her daughter, and then at the stranger. Her -glance expressed concern.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Is it true? You have lost an eye, and lame as well?” -She came towards him. “Then you must be ... you are -Guest the One-eyed?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So I am called,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She grasped his hand, and her voice trembled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God bless you!” she said earnestly—“God bless you! -And blessed be the hour that brought you here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga had left the room, and the two were alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where did you spend the night?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“On the hills.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And without shelter? How can you endure such hardships—an -old man?...”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am well hardened to it by now. Though, to tell the -truth, my shoulder is somewhat stiff from last night.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hope it may be no worse. Let me make up a bed for -you now, and you can have a good rest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I would rather lie in the hayloft. A bed would seem -strange to me now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Somewhat unwillingly the widow agreed to let him have -his way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So you have come to Hofsfjordur after all, though after -many years.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes; Fate has brought me here at last, in my old age.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then Fate is kind to us.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Fate is always kind,” replied the old man earnestly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Even when it brings us trouble and distress?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then most of all, good soul, if you did but know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Even when it leads us into temptation—drives us to -sin?” The widow looked up at him quickly as she spoke, -and lowered her eyes again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We mortals are poor clay; God has need of strange ways -to work us to His will.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you think all that happens is decreed—a part of -God’s plan with us?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“In a way, yes. Each man’s actions are determined by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>the nature of his soul; that makes his fate. All that men -do is a result of their own character. But the deeds that -we do most naturally are good. Therefore, we should each -be master of ourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But a sin committed can never be a good action or lead -to any good. Surely it were better that such an act had -never been?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A sin committed can bring out the good in one who is -so made that the good in him can be reached by no other -way. One can wander through many lands and yet not -escape from one evil deed. The memory of it will stay fresh -in the mind, and in time can soften the hardest heart, or make -the weakest strong; good thoughts and strength of will grow -out of it. I speak as I have found it. But perhaps you -have not found it so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman bent over her work.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” she said. “You speak the truth. I, too, have -sinned, and the memory of it has made me better than I was, -or ever could have been without it. But I never thought of -it so until now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga entered with some food. She wore a bandage over -one eye.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is it, child?—have you hurt yourself?” asked the -mother anxiously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga blushed hotly, set down the plates, and tore away -the handkerchief from her head, laughing nervously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The others laughed too—it was easy to see what the girl -had been doing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I forgot to take it off,” she explained shyly. “It’s not -so very bad, after all, to have only one eye.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Better to have two,” said Guest the One-eyed. “More -especially if they are as blue and as good as yours.” And -he looked at her with a kindly smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga was still embarrassed; she glanced anxiously at the -visitor, and asked: “You are not angry with me?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He patted her arm. “How could I be? After you have -given me leave to call you Bagga?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“When you go away from here, I will go with you all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>way to the next place. I am strong, and I can carry your -sack for you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That’s kind of you. And I shall not be angry with you, -not even if you fasten a stick to one leg just to see what it -feels like to be lame!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga’s checks were burning now; she was nearly crying.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I—I did just now,” she confessed. “And it was much -worse than—the other. But I’ll never do it again.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed burst out laughing. Even the girl’s -mother could not help joining in. And there was not much -of anger in the rebuke she gave her daughter.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Night spread its broad, dark wings over the land.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Under the shadow of night the world is changed -from what it was while day still reigned. Fear, -that the daylight holds in check, is then abroad, and the -unseen seems nearer than before. All things are changed, -save Love that is unalterable; Love that is constant whether -in light or dark.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed had long since laid his tired limbs -to rest in the hay, the widow’s soul far, far away in the land -of dreams, when the outer door of the house opened slowly; -only a crack at first, through which the dog silently made -its way, followed then by the girl, who stepped with careful, -noiseless tread.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga closed the door behind her without a sound, patted -the dog, and whispered to it to be silent. And the intelligent -beast seemed to understand that this was a business that must -be kept secret between it and its mistress.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Off went the pair, in the direction of the stream, the dog -hard at Bagga’s heels, and evidently interested in the night’s -adventure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As they neared the flock of sheep, where they lay huddled -together for the night, she made the dog lie down, while she -called softly, as was her wont, for Ørlygur’s lamb. There -was a slight commotion in the flock, and the black-headed -lamb came trotting up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Offering some bread she had brought with her, Bagga -gradually enticed it away from the rest. She moved very -slowly, to avoid alarming the others, over towards the natural -bridge across the stream.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The dog trotted along behind, with its tail down. It was -jealous of the lamb, knowing well that, when Bagga had it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>with her, any other creature must take second place. To -approach her now would mean a scolding, and the dog had -no desire to be sent back home, just when there was every -prospect of something quite unusual happening.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All went well. The lamb gave no trouble, and the dog -followed at a safe distance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the girl’s heart was sad; it was hard now to have to -part with the lamb she had cherished as a link between her -lover and herself—a tangible memory of the one she loved -so deeply, yet with whom she had never spoken—whom she -had only seen now and then at church on Sundays.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Reaching the bridge, she took off her garter and fastened -it round the lamb’s neck, to have something to hold by in -case the animal should take fright. Then carefully she led it -across, the earth underfoot vibrating all the time with the -rush of the water below.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After a time, the supply of breadcrumbs having ceased, -the lamb grew lazy, and showed signs of becoming rebellious. -It seemed to resent having been thus disturbed in the middle -of the night. As long as there had been compensation in -the way of dainty morsels to nibble, it was perhaps worth -it, but now it would prefer to lie down and chew the cud -in peace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga, however, persisted, and with coaxing and scolding -urged on her little charge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a long road, but at last they reached Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Quietly as possible she opened the gate of the enclosure. -It would never do to rouse the dogs. Then she stroked -the lamb sadly in farewell, her tears falling on its woolly -fleece, and thrust it through the gate, which she closed after it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She had forgotten to take her garter from its neck.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As she turned away from the gate, a feeling of loneliness -and misery overcame her; it was as if she had lost the one -treasure of her life—nothing was left but loneliness and -emptiness. Then gradually she grew more composed. The -dog marked her trouble, and fawned on her; she came to -herself, and realized that it was time to return home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She stood for a little, gazing with wet eyes at the dark -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>outline of the homestead; there slept her lover, never dreaming -she was near. Surely, surely in some mysterious way -he must feel that she was there, and come to her? Not to -speak to her, no—that he should ever speak seemed to her -like a thing so distant as to be almost unreal—an entering -into paradise. But come he surely must—if only that they -might see each other—that he might realize how she loved -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But she must go.... With bowed head she turned in the -direction of home. The long road was covered, she hardly -knew how, and, without once waking to conscious thought -of the way, she found herself in the house once more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silently she undressed; her head was aching, and it was -long before she could sleep. At length she fell into a heavy -slumber.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When she woke next morning it seemed as if the journey -of the night had been a dream; she had to go out and convince -herself that the lamb was really gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once sure, however, she felt an indescribable joy—so near -she had been to her heart’s desire that night. And none -to know of it but God.... She could not understand now -why she had felt sad at parting with the lamb; the night -stood out now like a gleam of brightness in her life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One of her garters was missing—she could not remember -what she had done with it. Fallen off somewhere, perhaps, -and lying out on the road. It would be hopeless to try and -find it now, though, among all the rocks; she might as well -give it up for lost.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But it was a pity, for it was a nice one, neatly embroidered, -and with her name worked on so prettily....</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>While Bagga was thus busy with her daydreams, -Guest the One-eyed was deep in earnest talk with -her mother, who confided to him the story of her -life—the story of her heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and had been -married against her will, though with no great resistance on -her part, to the son of a rich landowner. The man she really -loved was a young labourer on her father’s place. No one -knew of it, and the man himself had but a vague idea; she -could not say if he returned the feeling or not. After some -six months of married life, Fate—or the well-laid plans of -her lover himself—brought him to work on her husband’s -farm. And now began a time of sore trial for her. The -young man had become aware of her inclination, and made -his advances boldly. So successfully did he play the part -of broken-hearted lover that she fell a victim to his persuasion. -So much Guest the One-eyed was able to gather from -the widow’s own confession; she did not spare herself in the -recital.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She had already borne a son—her husband’s child. Immediately -after having given way to her lover, she had endeavoured -to persuade him to go with her, take her away from -the place; she could not stay with her husband as things -were. But the lover was quite content to leave all as it -was; indeed, it was evident that he preferred to have her -there. Then she saw through him, realized the true nature -of his feelings towards her, and confessed everything to her -husband. The latter had, after a violent scene, at last agreed -to forgive her, and treated her kindly. But she was determined -to leave him, and went off to live alone, making no -claim on him or on her father for her subsistence.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>It was nineteen years ago now. At first, she had earned -her living where and how she could—cleaning fish or washing -wool. Then the child came, and she found it impossible -to obtain work anywhere. Finally, she had settled down at -Borg, where she had stayed three years. In spite of the -kindness with which she was treated by Ormarr and Runa, -however, she found herself regarded with suspicion. With -her small savings, and some help from Ormarr, she had -just been able to rent and stock her little holding, and had -lived there now with her daughter for nearly fourteen -years.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now, life was pleasant enough, she said. And Guest the -One-eyed understood that she had grown so accustomed to -hard work and scanty fare that she would have found it -hard now to change to another mode of life. But she looked -to her daughter’s upbringing with motherly care, and her -great anxiety was the girl’s future. How would it be with -her when she went out into the world? Would she be able -to live down her mother’s past? Would God in His mercy -spare her the consequences of her mother’s sin?</p> - -<p class='c004'>That it was a sin she understood now; now, for the first -time, she realized how unpardonable her act had been. The -consequences might yet be visited upon her child. And her -conscience made her suffer; she feared at times that the agony -of her remorse would drive her to madness. She was on the -edge of an abyss; only by the utmost effort could she preserve -her self-control.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed had heard many secrets; listened to -the story of many lives. And in his long years of life he -had learned to sift the facts of a case, to find out truth as -much from what was left unspoken as from what was said. -The widow’s life stood out clearly to his mind’s eye in all -its detail.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They sat in silence for a while.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And the girl’s father,” asked Guest at last—“is he still -living near?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” answered the widow, and her lips tightened. “He -went away across the seas soon after I left the place. Afraid, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>maybe, that there might be trouble, and thought it best to -be out of the way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again there was a pause.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then said Guest the One-eyed quietly, “You are troubled -at heart by the thought that the sins of the fathers are to be -visited upon the children. Do not let that weigh too heavily -upon you now. There are those who suffer so deeply for -their own sins that they atone for them in life, and more. -You are one of these. I am not speaking empty words to you -for comfort’s sake, but the truth. You can trust me. God -has granted me the power to give my fellow-men in need the -knowledge of remission of their sins, as far as may be in -knowledge of the truth. I have sinned, and my debt is not -yet paid—but my sin was greater than yours or that of any -other I have met. But the Lord God is merciful, and I -believe that He will grant me peace at last. At last, in death. -And when that comes, I can say with truth that my life, -by God’s grace, has been a happy one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman looked at him, with the same dull hopelessness -in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How can you know that I have sufficiently atoned for -my sin—you, who have known me only since yesterday, and -heard no more than I have told you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed smiled, and a strange look of far-seeing -wisdom lit up his heavy face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I believe that the Lord has sent me to you for your comfort -in need—that the Lord has given me, and to no other, a -sign to make you sure. I am no prophet, and I do not profess -to tell what will or will not come. But—shall I tell you -a secret? Promise me, first, that you will not act in any way -to bring about that which shall come in God’s good time.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman grasped his hand and nodded. Her eyes were -fixed intently on his face, as if striving to read his words ere -they were spoken.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Your daughter will be the happiest woman in this land. -She is loved by the purest soul I have ever looked into through -human eyes.” He turned away for a moment, and murmured, -as if to himself: “I thank Thee, Lord, for Thy great mercy.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>Then, addressing the widow again, he went on: “And she, -on her part, returns his love with all her innocent heart.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman’s face darkened.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Impossible,” she said. “There is no young man she -knows here at all. I do not believe she has ever spoken to -one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Remember your promise, and trust me now. The girl -is in her heart—and in the book of Fate—betrothed and -wedded to the one I speak of. Give time, and see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If I could believe you now....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You can—you must. It is long since these lips framed -a lie—never in the life of Guest the One-eyed have they -spoken falsely.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow looked at him earnestly, doubt and hope struggling -in her mind. Guest the One-eyed leaned towards her, -his face deathly pale, and whispered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He of whom I speak—he, too, was born as the fruit of -a sin—but a sin that is, or will be soon, I trust, atoned for.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman was weeping now, but they were tears of relief -rather than despair. “I cannot fathom it all,” she murmured. -“But I believe you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed smiled sadly, and cast a grateful glance -to heaven.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Later in the day, Guest the One-eyed became feverish, and -the pain in his shoulder became acute. He could not hide -the fact that he was suffering, and the widow wished him to -go to bed at once and remain there for the present. But he -obstinately refused even to stay in the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have farther yet to go,” he said, with his sad, kindly -smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As he was leaving, he asked suddenly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Was there not once a priest here, Sera Ketill?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow looked up at him in surprise. Then she cast -down her eyes and frowned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“His name is accursed in this house,” she said—“as are -all those who have deceived under the mask of love.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>The man paled at her words. For a moment he seemed -stunned. Then, taking up his sack and staff, he limped from -the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman hurried after him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are you ill?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No. I am going now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—you have not said good-bye!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Forgive me,” said Guest the One-eyed. “But you have -said that which struck me to the heart.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman looked at him blankly. Then, giving up all -attempt at finding out the mystery, she asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you not leave some good word after you?—some -word to help?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed looked at her. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Let your heart be open to Love and closed to Hatred; -and let your lips be quick to bless, but slow to curse.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God be with you,” said the woman, her voice quivering -on the verge of tears. “God’s blessing go with you where -you may go.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, turning hurriedly to hide her shame and emotion, she -re-entered the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed limped painfully along beside the -stream. Suddenly he remembered the girl, whom he had -forgotten in the trouble of his soul, and turned to seek her. -But at that moment she came running towards him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl stopped, breathless, and looked at him reproachfully. -“Would you have gone without a word to me?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I had just remembered,” he said softly. “But for a moment -my soul was not my own.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She took his sack and put her arm in his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I will go with you as far as I may,” she said.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>A calm, sunny day. The old man trudged along the -valley, leaning on the girl’s arm. Her golden hair -and his white locks shone like haloes round their -heads.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now and again a flock of ptarmigan rose at their feet. -Already the birds had shed their brown plumage and donned -their winter coats of white.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It seemed as if summer were loth to bid farewell. The -sea was calm, and the river flowed smoothly on its way; the -lakes lay still as mirrors, reflecting the hills around and the -blue sky above. No sound was heard from the homesteads -but the occasional neigh of a horse or the barking of a dog. -Even the rocks seemed less bleak and bare than usual, lapped -as they were now in the warm rays of the sun. All seemed -intent on looking its best at the last—the last it might be, for -another day might bring cold winds and wintry gales, ushering -in snow and ice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man and the girl had gone some distance on their -way when they came to a grassy slope that seemed inviting -them to rest and look out over the scene. Somewhat shyly, -the girl took out a packet of food and offered him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Now, that is your breakfast you have packed up here,” -said the old man as he opened it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am not hungry,” said the girl bravely, but the effort -was plain to be seen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed stroked her head and began to eat; -he succeeded, however, in persuading her to share with him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When they had finished, he asked her:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you not turn back now? It is a long way home -already.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She looked at him pleadingly. “Oh, I will run all the way -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>home. I am never tired—and I should like to see you within -sight of the next homestead.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am glad to have you—but we had better go on. We -must not lose more time sitting here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He made no motion to rise, however, and for a while they -sat in silence. Then he asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Did you ever hear of one Sera Ketill, once priest of this -parish, many years ago?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl burst into tears, and sat crying quietly. He put -no further question, but after a little said quietly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have I hurt you, child? I would not have done that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That—that was his father,” she answered, sobbing. “Did -you not know?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, I knew,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And they all say unkind things and hate him,” she went -on, still sobbing passionately. “He drowned himself because -he had been so wicked he couldn’t bear it—all the sorrow that -came after. Threw himself over the cliff, they say; he was -seen there the night after his father died in the church.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And he left a will giving all he had to the poor, but they -say it was only to make them sorry for the hard things they -had said, and pray for his soul. And they never would forgive -him, and they say the Evil One has taken him, because -the body was never found. Isn’t it cruel! And all that was -twenty years ago, and all that time no one has ever thought -kindly of him once—only me, and I couldn’t help it. His -father.... I don’t know if <em>he</em> ever thinks of him. And yet -he must, since it was his father....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Gradually the girl became more composed. Her companion -sat quietly, with tears in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly she raised her tear-stained face towards him and -asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you hate him, too?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed looked her straight in the face as he -answered:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“For twenty years my life has been spent in seeking God’s -mercy and forgiveness towards him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>The girl’s eyes lit with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you knew him? And were you fond of him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man was silent for a moment. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sera Ketill is not dead.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, thank God for that! Is it really true?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God bless you, child, that you are glad to hear it. Yes, -it is true. He is yet a wanderer on earth, and penitent.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Is he very far away? Shall I ever see him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Not very far away. But ask no more just now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked on until a fertile valley lay before them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Close by was a small farm; other homesteads were scattered -about not far off.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man slung his sack over his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Shall I never see you again?” asked the girl, her eyes -filling with tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You like me, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I love you. Every one loves and blesses you. If I had -a father, I should wish him to be like you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—I am only a beggar.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is no shame in that,” answered the girl in surprise, -“for one like you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Shall I bring Sera Ketill your greeting if I see him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, and tell him that I pray for him always.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do you think you can get home now before dark?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, indeed; I am not tired at all now. Good-bye.” -And she gave him her hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye,” he said, “and God be with you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl hurried off in the direction of home, and Guest -the One-eyed turned towards the farm.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER X</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>On the morning after Bagga’s expedition with the -lamb, Ormarr was up and about before any of the -others at Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was his custom to rise early. His nights were often -restless, and it was only after he had been up and out a little -that he felt refreshed. The work drove sad thoughts from -his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was not happy, though he would have found it hard -to say what was wrong. He could not honestly declare that -he regretted having given up the path of fame that once had -stood open to him through his music.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In the old days, whenever he had touched his violin, the -contrast between the harmony of music and the discord of -the world as it was had wrought on him so strongly that he -had been driven to seek solitude. His sensitive soul craved -rest, quivering as it did under the harshness of reality. It -was not the desire for appreciation of his art, but the longing -for harmony in life that he felt most deeply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here, on the farm, existence was rendered tolerable by -the fact that he had to be constantly at work; the management -of the estate gave him much to do, in addition to -which the affairs of the parish were almost wholly entrusted -to his care. And the affection and respect of his people, -which he could not but perceive, served largely to aid him in -the constant struggle within.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The people loved him, not only because he helped them -in every possible way, and never refused his aid and counsel, -but also because they felt that in him they had a true leader. -They saw the firmness of character, the stern will, which he -exercised in his own life, and it gave them courage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr invariably began the day by a visit of inspection -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>round the farm to see that all was in order. The animals -allowed to go loose about the place were carefully looked to -each morning to see that they had come to no harm during -the night.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One of the first things to catch his eye this morning was -Ørlygur’s lamb. He noticed the black head at once, and as -he approached, the animal rose up, bleating pitifully. -Evidently it was in distress about something. As soon as he -had caught it, he noticed the blue ribbon at its neck, looked -at it, and found the name “Snebiorg” woven in red letters. -He was about to take it off, but changed his mind and let -the lamb go. There were not two women of that name in -the parish. And the lamb had got into the enclosure during -the night, though the gate was fastened. Ormarr was -not quite clear in his own mind as to what had happened, -but at any rate, if the ribbon were intended for any one, it -was not for him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He thought it over for a while, and then went into the -house to wake Ørlygur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Your lamb has come back. You will find it outside.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was out of bed in an instant. His father hesitated, -as if deliberating whether to say more, but after a moment’s -reflection left the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur threw on his clothes and hurried out—there was -the lamb, sure enough. But—it did not recognize him. -Evidently, in the course of the summer, it had forgotten him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The ribbon at its neck caught his eye at once, and he bent -down to examine it. At first sight of the name he started -in astonishment, and let go his hold. Then, catching the -animal again, he took the ribbon from its neck with trembling -fingers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The lamb was let to run as it pleased; Ørlygur stood with -the garter in his hand, stroking it softly. His heart beat -fast, his head was giddy. Tears came to his eyes, and his -thought was all confused, but there was a great joy at his -heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sat down on the wall of the enclosure; the sun was -just rising. Never before had he seen such a glorious opening -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>to any day. The piece of ribbon in his hand made this day -one beyond all others; it called him from his sleep to be -king in a beautiful world.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He realized now that, though he had felt sure before, there -had nevertheless been something lacking—and here it was. -All was certain now. And the joyous possibilities of the -future seemed unbounded. He sat there now for hours, deep -in his dreams, twining the ribbon round his fingers, one after -another—none must be forgotten—and at last round his neck.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he started at the sight of his father approaching, -and put away the ribbon hastily. He got up in some embarrassment; -it occurred to him suddenly that Ormarr might -perhaps have noticed the ribbon himself at first. The thought -left him utterly at a loss.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr came up and sat down quietly, as if unaware of -anything typo.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A fortunate thing about the lamb,” he said. “Coming -back unharmed like that. All sorts of accidents might have -happened to it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” said Ørlygur, trying to speak calmly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you time to help me today with the mangers in -the big stable?—or were you thinking of going somewhere -else?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur felt suddenly that it was most urgent he should -go somewhere else, though he had no clear idea as to where. -There was something in Ormarr’s voice that seemed to suggest -he was not expected to remain at home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He did not answer at once. Ormarr sat waiting for an -answer, but without impatience, as if realizing something of -what was passing in the young man’s mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Ørlygur spoke, it was with a calmness that surprised -himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes—I was going for a walk ... over towards Bolli. -I thought of giving the lamb—to the widow there. She -would be glad of it, no doubt; then she could kill one of her -own sheep instead.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr apparently found nothing in this proposal beyond -an ordinary act of charity; he simply said:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>“Yes, give it to her. Or perhaps to her daughter. Then -you may be sure it would be well looked after.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That is true.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had now completely regained his composure, but -was still somewhat at a loss to understand his foster-father’s -attitude in the matter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You can bring them greeting from me,” said Ormarr, as -he rose and walked away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was both glad and sorry. But he knew it was best -not to let Ørlygur’s love affairs become a matter of dissension -between them. They of Borg had need to hold together well; -he had made his sacrifice—all that remained now was to prepare -his wife.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>When Ørlygur arrived at Bolli, with the lamb trotting -contentedly behind him, he found the widow outside the -gate.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She looked at him, and then at the lamb. She had noticed -that morning that it was missing, but had merely thought -it had been found and taken away earlier in the day.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good morning,” she said in answer to his greeting. -“Your lamb seems loth to leave us.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga had told her mother before that the lamb always -came back every time she had essayed to drive it off with -other stray sheep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It seems so,” Ørlygur agreed. “Can I have a word with -Snebiorg?” There was a lump in his throat; he could hardly -speak the name.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“She is not at home just now. We had a stranger here -last night, and she has gone out to see him a little on his way. -How far, I do not know. Can you guess who the stranger -was?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I think so. Guest the One-eyed, was it not?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh—then you knew he was here?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. I was the first to meet him. When I left him -yesterday he was on his way to you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why did you not come with him, then, and fetch your -lamb? When did you fetch it?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>“I did not fetch it at all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But—it was here last night, and this morning it was -gone.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly Ørlygur understood what had happened. And -he flushed at the thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That may be so,” he answered vaguely. He hardly knew -what to say.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow looked at him, as if somewhat offended at his -tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Won’t you come in and sit down for a while?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks,” said Ørlygur. And they went indoors.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had never been inside the house before. The little -room was furnished with two beds; he looked immediately -at the one which was evidently Bagga’s. Her hat hung on -a nail at the head of the bed, her knife and fork were in a -little rack close by. On a shelf lay her Bible and Prayer -Book, with some other volumes. He dared not take them -up to see what they were—they looked like collections of the -Sagas. The bed was neatly made, and a knitted coverlet -of many colours spread over.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sat down on the other bed with a strange sense of being -an intruder here. His thoughts were vague, but he was -dimly conscious that the place was filled with the spirit and -life of the girl herself. Here she lived; the little trifles in -the room were things she daily touched.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow, entering behind him, invited him to sit on the -other bed. He did so, feeling dazed, and seating himself -uncomfortably on the very edge. The widow suggested that -he need not be afraid of lying down if he were tired, but he -declined the offer with some abruptness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman sat knitting, and for a long time neither spoke, -only glancing across at each other from time to time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow was not altogether pleased with this visit. She -was at a loss to think what Ørlygur à Borg could have to say -to her daughter, but as he did not speak, she was not inclined -to ask him. Also, she remembered her promise to Guest the -One-eyed the day before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They sat thus all day, exchanging only an occasional word. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>Once the widow went out and made some coffee, which they -drank in silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At length she remarked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You are very patient to wait so long.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A little later she brought him some food and a drink of -milk. She herself had eaten her meal in the larder, as was -her wont. While he ate, she sat with her knitting, glancing -at her guest now and again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Bagga must soon be here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur nodded.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow pointed to the bookshelf. “You might take a -book, if you care to, and pass the time. You must be tired -of waiting.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am not tired of waiting,” said Ørlygur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Dusk was falling when Bagga at last returned. As soon -as her mother heard her footsteps outside, she rose and left the -room. Ørlygur remained seated. Something was about to -happen—something wonderful, incredible, beyond his control. -He was to see her—hear her voice, perhaps—even speak to -her himself. He felt unable to move. The thing must happen. -And then—what then?</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow exchanged a hasty greeting with her daughter, -and told her that one was waiting to speak with her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga was overcome with confusion, a wave of warmth -swept through her body, and her hands grew moist.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Me—to speak with me—who is it, then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Go in and see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow disappeared into the kitchen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga could hardly find strength to walk the few steps -through into the room. When at length she entered and -saw Ørlygur standing there, she stood and stared at him without -a word. Ørlygur, too, was unable to speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She offered her hand, and he took it, but the greeting was -equally awkward on both sides. At last Ørlygur plucked up -courage to speak:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you have my lamb?” he asked. “I have brought -it with me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>The girl smiled, but did not look up. “Thank you,” she -said simply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a long time they stood facing each other without a -word, hardly daring to breathe. Ørlygur felt he had much -to say, but could find no words. At last he offered his hand -again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She took it hesitatingly, but this time their clasp was one -of lingering affection. They stood breathing heavily; then -suddenly she leaned forward with her forehead against his -shoulder; her hot cheek touched his. For a moment he -pressed her to him, and passed his hand caressingly over -her hair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With a sigh she slipped from his arms, pressed his hand -once more, and turned away. Then quietly Ørlygur left the -room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went out of the house without taking leave of the -widow. The latter, returning a little later to the room, asked -if he had gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” said the girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What did he come for?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He gave me his lamb.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nothing more?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a long pause.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Does he love you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga turned her face away. “Yes,” she whispered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And you love him too?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl burst into tears. “Yes, mother.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow took her daughter in her arms. “God’s blessing, -my child. No need to be sorry for that. By the look -of him, he is not one to change.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Guest the One-eyed felt both ill and tired -when, after bidding farewell to Bagga, he limped up -towards the farm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>An old man, evidently the master of the place, was busy -with some men thatching a hayrick with slabs of turf. The -turf lay rolled up and set in piles about on the ground, a -couple of hundred rolls, perhaps, in all. It had been a laborious -task to cut the pieces thin and even at the edge; the -strips were about ten feet long. Two men were busy on the -stack, preparing it for the roof, the highest point carefully -set so as to give an even slope on all sides. Others were lifting -the rolls, taking great care to avoid a break. The farmer -himself did but little of the work, being chiefly occupied with -looking on and giving orders.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The arrival of a stranger caused a momentary pause in the -work. Those on the ground gathered round him, and the -two men on the stack leaned over to see.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Who are you?” asked the farmer curtly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A beggar,” answered the newcomer, seating himself on -one of the rolls of turf.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I thought as much,” grumbled the man. “Can’t you -sit on the ground, instead of spoiling my turf?” And, turning -angrily to the men, he shouted:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, what is there to stare at? Get to your work.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed sat down, and for a while was left -to himself. A dog came trotting up, sniffed at him, and -curled up dog-fashion at his feet, apparently satisfied of -being in decent company.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At length the farmer turned to him again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, old Greybeard, what news from anywhere?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s little news I can tell.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>“I daresay. All you think of is the meals you get—in -other folks’ kitchens.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s many things a man can think of. Will you give -me shelter for the night?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve no beds for lazy vagabonds. But you can sleep in -the barn if you like, though I warn you it’s draughty. I -take it you can do some tricks or tell a story or something -in return?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed smiled and, looking up at him, said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you ever heard the story of the rich man and -Lazarus?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer turned pale with rage. “You cursed bundle -of rags!” he shouted. “You dare ... I’ll have you taken -up before the sheriff for begging if you don’t mind your -words!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The men looking on smiled. The local authority was Ormarr -à Borg, and all knew there would be little gained by -an angry man who came to him demanding the punishment -of some poor wanderer for begging. It would, indeed, be -about the best thing that could happen to the culprit himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is your name?” demanded the farmer, striding -towards him with a threatening mien.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am called Guest the One-eyed,” answered the old man, -with his quiet smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer was taken aback. “Guest the One-eyed! Impossible. -He never comes this way. Guest the One-eyed....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looked at the beggar again, shifted his feet, and stood -in some confusion. “God’s blessing,” he stammered out at -last. “Forgive me—I did not know. Come—come up to -the house with me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And clumsily he helped the wanderer to rise; his hands -were little used to helping others.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Let me take your sack,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nay—a beggar carries his own,” answered Guest the -One-eyed, and hoisted it on his back. Then suddenly he -smiled and, swinging down the sack once more, handed it -to the farmer, who took it as if it were a favour granted him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed glanced at him mischievously.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>“’Tis strange to see you with a beggar’s pouch. None -would have thought you could ever come to that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer cast a sidelong glance at his men, and was -about to make an angry retort, but restrained himself and -gave a forced laugh. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If I were to fill the sack with more than you could carry—what -then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then I should let it lie.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer was evidently anxious to make much of his -visitor; the latter, however, seemed to care little for his -hospitality, and would not even accept the bed that was -offered him. The farmer assured him that it was a bed reserved -for personages of distinction; bishops and high officials -had lain in it. But Guest the One-eyed preferred to sleep -in the barn, and all that the farmer could do was to have -the cracks in the walls stopped as far as possible, and a fresh -layer of hay laid over the rotting stuff that strewed the floor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Before retiring, the beggar brought up the subject of Sera -Ketill.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That scoundrel!” cried the farmer angrily. “Ay, a -scoundrel he was.” And a murmur from those around -showed that he had voiced the general feeling. “He duped -them all. Not a man but was on his side. I remember him, -and his lying sermons and his talk—and I was no wiser than -the rest, to doubt my old friend. Ørlygur à Borg, he was a -true man, and Sera Ketill that killed him—his own father.... -I shan’t forget! And his poor wife, the Danish Lady -at Hof—ruined for life. Twenty years now she’s lived at -Borg, and never got back to sense nor wit. ’Tis a comfort -to think he’ll suffer for it all, or there’s no justice in heaven. -The Devil must have marked him from the first—and took -and kept him, and best he should. If I met Sera Ketill at -the gates of Paradise, I’d turn and go another way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And the farmer laughed, pleased with his own wit and -confident of his own salvation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed had listened with pale face to the outburst -of hatred and scorn. At last he rose heavily to his feet -and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>“It is time a weary man went to his rest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer went with him to the barn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you will sleep here,” he said. “Though why you -should, with a fine bed waiting, I can’t see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“’Tis best to seek a place that’s not above one’s deserts,” -said the other mildly. And he added, “Though, for some, -it may be hard to find.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Left to himself, the wanderer lay staring into the darkness. -And his lips moved in an inaudible prayer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My God, my God—if only I might dare to hope for forgiveness -at the last; only one gleam of Thy mercy to lighten -my heart. I am weighed down with the burden of my sin, -and long has been my penance, but what is all against the -evil I have done? Yet I thank Thee, Lord, that I alone am -let to suffer; that Thy wrath has not been visited on that -innocent child.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>During the night his fever increased. He could not sleep, -and lay tossing uneasily from side to side, murmuring often -to himself:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lord, I feel now that Death is near. Good that it comes -at last, and yet I fear it. What will Death mean for me? -Some hell more terrible than I have lived through all these -years? Thy will be done! It will not be tonight, I think. -Another day, and then ... Death.... Lord, Thy will be -done!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He lapsed into a state of drowsy helplessness, murmuring -still to himself:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lord, Lord ... two children were granted me of Thy -grace. And to the one was given Thy peace in death; the -other has found happiness in life.... I thank Thee, -Lord....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He lay bathed in perspiration; dust and fragments of hay -clung to his face and hands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Two Women ... Lord, forgive me.... Mercy, -Lord....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He flung himself over on his side and hid his face.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>“Father, how often have I sinned against Thee! And -knowing my sin, yet hardening my heart. Even then I suffered, -but I would not heed, and persevered in sin. Forgive -me, Lord.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while he lay still, then turned again. He strove to -raise himself, but his strength failed him, and, sinking back, -he cried aloud:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Forgive me, Lord—forgive me, Lord....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His words were lost in the darkness, and he lapsed into -unconsciousness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He woke some hours later, exhausted and parched with -thirst. But he could not rise to seek for water, and at length -he sank into a restless, feverish sleep.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Early next morning he was awakened by the entry of the -farmer. At first he hardly realized where he was. He was -ill, with a racking pain in his head. But he strove to appear -as if nothing were amiss.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good morning,” said the farmer. “And how do you -feel today? Was it very draughty up here?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good morning. I have slept well, and I thank you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmer laughed at sight of his visitor’s face, which -was plastered with scraps of hay. “You’ve enough hay about -you to feed a sheep through the winter,” he said with a -laugh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed had risen. As he stepped out into the -cold morning air, his teeth chattered audibly. “The sun -is not up yet, it seems,” he murmured.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Never before had he so longed for the rising of the sun. -He stood now staring towards the east; it seemed to him a -miracle that he should be suffered to see the sun rise once -more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The blessed sun,” he murmured to himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sky showed a dull blue between hurrying banks of -cloud. The farmer yawned, and observed carelessly, “It’s -cold in the mornings now. Come in; there will be coffee -ready soon.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>Guest the One-eyed went into the cowshed, washed himself -at the drinking-trough, and dried his face and hands on his -coat, the farmer watching him the while.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’re one for cleanliness, I see,” he said. “I never -trouble to wash myself, these cold mornings.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wanderer produced a piece of comb, and tidied his hair -and beard; it was a matter of some difficulty to get rid of the -scraps of hay.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why not stay here for the day and have a good rest?” -suggested the farmer. And with a sly glance he added: “I -daresay we can afford to give you a bite of food.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I thank you. But I must go on.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ay, there’s always haste with those that have nothing to -do,” said the farmer, with a touch of malice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He walked down a little way with his guest, some of the -farm hands accompanying them. The wanderer bade farewell -to each in turn, and all answered with a blessing. Then -they turned back, the farmer alone going on a few steps more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you not some good word to leave with me?” he -asked a little awkwardly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed looked at the man from head to foot; -the burly fellow stood as timidly before him as a child that -had done wrong.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It would be well if you were oftener to take the beggar’s -bag upon your shoulders,” he said. And, having shaken -hands in parting, he walked away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God be with you,” said the farmer, and stood for some -moments watching the beggar as he limped along. For the -first time in his life he began to feel that perhaps after all -wealth and security were not the only things worth coveting. -There were other things—other feelings than the sense of -material gain or loss.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He walked back to the house somewhat humbled in mind, -and, going into his room, sat down on the bed with his head -bowed in his hands. For long hours he sat there, seemingly -in thought. In the evening, he roused himself with a sigh, -and went out to where the men were working. His tone -seemed harsher than his wont as he ordered them about.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>But Guest the One-eyed went on his way, shivering and -muttering to himself:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Haste—yes, for today. But tomorrow? Who knows? -Who asks? What do we know of it all? Life ... and -mortals playing at joy and sorrow; a little life ... a long -life ... playing at life ... playing with others’ hearts and -with our own. And thinking it all in earnest. And the -end? The grave, the grave. Cold earth, dark earth, where -the sun cannot reach, though its grace be spread all above. -My God, my God, what are my thoughts? Not earnest? Is -it not earnest, all our life? Lord, forgive me. Thoughts, -thoughts that come and go—but not for long. Thoughts fearing -to end, to die under the earth, and never reach to heaven. -My soul—Lord God, where is my soul? Is there a soul that -is mine? Lord, Lord, forgive me! This is the last day Thy -grace allows me; the last day of life on earth, of life and the -blessing of the sun for me; the last day granted me to feel -joy in the light. Joy? But my days have been pain, pain. -And yet there is joy.... The last day ... Lord, here am -I, Thy servant. Let Thy wrath be turned away from me, O -Lord, and see my heart that repents, repents. Forgive me, -Lord....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He crouched down beside a rock, and laid his head upon -the stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God in heaven, I can feel Thy presence. Or is it that -God is far away? Is it mercy or God’s judgment that comes? -Forgive me, Lord, if there can be forgiveness.... Thy will -be done!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He rose, and limped along his painful way.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Guest the One-eyed wandered far that day. -He felt that it was fated to be his last.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Fever burned in his veins; fever in his soul. It -seemed a painful task to end this life. And he was tormented -by dread lest his sufferings should after all not suffice to -atone for his sin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Sun and rain and hail took turns to follow him on this -the hardest of all his wandering days. Clouds and sheets of -hail passed before the face of the sun, making strange shadows -on the hillsides, the contrast being more pronounced -where dark stretches of lava and the lighter hue of cornfields -alternated. One moment the sun’s rays warmed him, -the next he was stung by the sudden lash of hailstones in -his face. It was a day of contest between the powers of sun -and shadow—a giant’s battle where summer and life were -pitted against autumn and death. And the earth over which -it raged was marked by each in turn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His beggar’s staff changed constantly from a dry, gleaming -white to a dripping grey. He swung it at each step, as -it were a distorted extra limb. And the figure of the man -standing against the changing background of the sky seemed -hardly human; more like some fantastic creation of Nature -herself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And this man’s soul, maybe, was rugged and misshapen -as his body. But the soul of a man is not so easy to see....</p> - -<p class='c004'>The first homestead he came to on this day’s march was -a little place. A peasant and his wife came out to meet -the stranger, the rest of their people following. They were -at home today, by reason of the weather, and had, moreover, -expected his arrival. All the district knew by now -that Guest the One-eyed had come amongst them. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>peasant and his household received him kindly, with many -blessings. He felt their kindness without any need of words, -and marked how they were glad to have him with them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And talking with them, he spoke the name of Sera Ketill, -once their priest, whom all remembered now with execration. -Here, too, the tongues that had been ready with blessing for -himself were quick to curse at the mention of that name; -to their minds, Sera Ketill was a monster, a thing of dread. -His very name made them shudder as if at the touch of -some loathsome thing. He was a murderer, a hypocrite, -and a cheat; they could not find in him the slightest link -of charity and affection with his fellow-men. Even his -death had been the act of a despicable creature, in that he -had endeavoured to secure their regard by leaving all he had -to the poor, and then flinging himself over the cliffs into -the sea. This last was not even a fine thought of his own—a -young poet had been the first to go that way, and by that -very spot.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the Devil had taken his body, and his soul, if any -shred of soul he had, had doubtless gone with it. A thing -of no use upon earth! He had not even had the courage -to face the consequences of his acts. He was a stain upon -mankind; in justice, he should have been burned at the stake -before his soul went on its way to hell.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed listened pale as death to the bitter -words. Strange, how a man’s character could thus outlive -him in the memory of his fellows. Twenty years had not -sufficed to bring oblivion for the wrongs this man had done. -His body might have been reduced to ashes in a moment, -but the fire of hate burned still about his memory.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wanderer looked at the faces of those about him—faces -that one moment shone with kindly pleasure and the -next glowed fiercely with hate. He could not but smile, -though his heart was heavy. Poor mortals, poor unseeing -men, seeing good and evil as things absolute, unalterable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But while his thoughts were busy, his soul cried all the -time to God, praying forgiveness....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Thoughts within thoughts, and thoughts again.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>For they were right, after all, these men. They themselves -had the power of being good or evil, of loving or -hating without reserve.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was their hatred he was feeling now, fuel added to the -furnace of his own remorse; he was passing through a purgatory -of maledictions.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One moment he saw himself as Guest the One-eyed, beggar -and wanderer—a figure clear enough. Then he was -the doomed soul on the verge of death, doubting everything, -doubting even his own doubt, torn asunder to his innermost -being, a living cry of anguish seeking Heaven. And -then, too, he was the penitent, believing and trusting in -God—yet even so unable to wrench himself free from the -spectres of doubt and mockery and scorn that clung to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Something prompted him to rise and speak to these his -fellows gathered round him. There were many now; for -folk had come from places near to see the man of whom they -had heard so much. Yes, let them see him and judge him -by what he had been and what he was now, and act as they -were prompted to do. It was not enough that they received -Guest the One-eyed with blessings, and cursed the name of -Sera Ketill; he longed to bring both before them as one.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the impulse reached no further than his thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As they cursed the man that he had been, he sat silent, -with eyes cast down. He made no movement, only sighed. -Then at last he rose, and stood a moment trying to collect -his thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I must go,” he said. “I have a long way before me today.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he bade farewell to each in turn, confused thoughts -passing through his mind the while.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“They give me their hands—but I am stealing what they -give. If they knew me, they would spit on me. Stone me, -perhaps. Would they, I wonder—would they do so now? -But I steal what they give because I need it; it is because -I must. Soon my hand will be cold, and then my soul will -have no link with any other soul—no way to feel their love -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>and innocent kindness. Yes, I must let them give me their -hands—as many as I can. And after that, the grave. Lord, -remember that this is my last day ... the very last. But -I will be patient ... Lord, Thy will be done!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he went on his way, with blessings from all. The -people stood silently watching him as he went; their hearts -had been moved beyond their daily wont by the sight of -this unhappy wanderer, and their thoughts followed him now -in sympathy along his sorrowful way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The wanderer’s heart was suffering more than all. His -soul ached with loneliness—he felt as if already he were confined -within the cold walls of the grave. It seemed a marvel -to him that he could endure this and live.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On and on he went, thinking—thinking....</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If no man can forgive me, if no human heart can -realize my atonement, can then God ever forgive? The -blessings they have given me—can they ever outweigh the -curses that were meant for me as well? Lord, if only one -might cross my path to know me, and forgive. One who -could take my hand and know and pardon all.... Lord, -Thy will be done....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was taking the road towards the trading station. On -the way he entered a house here and there, and was greeted -kindly as ever. But at the mention of Sera Ketill’s name, -all who heard it had but curses; eyes that had looked on him -in kindliness lit now with hatred of the man he named.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have done more evil even than I thought,” he muttered -to himself as he went on his way, refusing those who -would have shared the road. “To have planted so much -hatred in all their hearts; to be the cause of all those -evil thoughts beyond my own; things grown in the dark -from evil seed of my sowing. Lord, who shall ever tear -them up and destroy them that they may not rise again? -Lord, can it be that the fruits of sin never cease, when good -comes to an end at last? Lord, Lord, now I see the greatness -of my sin—more than I had dreamed. And now I am -come to the verge of death and have no strength even to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>suffer more. Only Thy mercy, Lord—grant me Thy mercy, -that hast denied me the forgiveness of men.”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>The trading station had grown considerably in the twenty -years that had passed. There were many new houses in the -place. And the wanderer looked in vain for the turf huts -that had formed the outskirts of the settlement when he knew -it. They were gone, and modern buildings stood where they -had been.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He limped from door to door, bearing with him each time -blessings for Guest the One-eyed and curses for the name -of Sera Ketill. At the last house, he asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where do the poor live now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was still a glimmer of hope in his heart that there, -among the poorest, he might find one single heart to bless -Ketill the priest for what he had given.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There are no poor here now,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are all in Hofsfjordur grown rich?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is a poor widow living out at Bolli, a lonely place -at the foot of the hills. But ’tis her own fault that she -lives as poorly as she does. She might have taken the help -that was offered her. But it was the Devil Priest’s money, -and she would not take it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The Devil Priest?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sera Ketill was his name. But we call him the Devil -Priest.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good-bye,” said Guest the One-eyed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Peace go with you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>On his way out from the trading station, he passed by a -shed from which came the sound of voices within. The door -stood half-open, and, looking in, he saw in the half-dark -four strange figures—three men and a woman, ragged and -wild-looking; evidently these were vagabonds like himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The woman was shouting a ribald song; one of the men -sat crouched on the floor rocking with laughter. The other -two men were fighting, the stronger chuckling at each successful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>blow, while the other fought in silence, waiting his -chance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man on the floor called out to the others with an oath -to come and listen. “Give over, you fools, and come and -hear. ’Tis a new song—one of Gudda’s best. Ay, Gudda, -she can make a song, if she’s not as young as she used to -be....” And he came shambling over towards them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was a tall fellow, bigger than either of his two companions, -still young, with reddish-yellow hair and a pasty -face. The two sprang away as he came up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Mind your own business, Luse-Grimur!” cried the one -nearest. This was a dark man of slender build, known as -the Bishop, from a way he had of mimicking the tones of -a priest, and repeating fragments of an indecent parody of -the marriage service whenever a couple came together. -“Keep away, and don’t bring your lice near me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’ll have my hands nearer than you care for in a -minute,” answered Grimur, with a leer. “Go on, Gudda.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Gudda was known for her talent in making songs. She -was a powerfully built woman getting on in years, with a -coarse voice in keeping with her coarse face and heavy build. -Her skirt reached hardly below her knees, showing a pair -of muscular legs; her stockings were of rough material, and -clumsily darned. One redeeming feature she had—her large -blue eyes. Children feared her until she looked them full -in the face, when the glance of her eyes seemed to draw them -to her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She was one of the few women vagabonds in the country, -and was known far and wide for her vulgar songs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Looking towards the door, she caught sight of the stranger, -and called to him to come in. Guest the One-eyed limped -over to the group.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God’s peace,” he said as he entered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God’s peace with you,” returned the others, somewhat -abashed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly the youngest of the party stepped forward. This -was Jon Gislason, a short, thick-set fellow who had some claim -to good repute, being known to work at times, and trusted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>to carry letters and parcels from place to place. He strode -up to the newcomer, and looked him in the face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He’s one of our sort,” he said. “It is Guest the One-eyed.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a shout of welcome at this, and Grimur took -out a flask from his pocket.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Best corn brandy,” he declared, handing the bottle to -Guest. “Good stuff, you can take my word for it.” Then, -in a slightly altered tone, he went on: “I daresay, now, you -think us rather a rough lot, you being more gentle like. But -it’s just our way. Rap out an oath without thinking -like.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“’Tis not such words that do the worst of harm,” said -Guest the One-eyed. And he took a sip from the flask.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then with a grimace he spat it out. “I thought it might -do me good,” he said. “But I can’t swallow it, all the -same.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, you swine!” shouted Grimur as he saw the precious -liquid wasted. “There, I’m sorry,” he went on. “That’s -no way to speak to a godly man. But the stuff’s too good -to waste. Leastways, to my thinking.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed offered his hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No harm, brother,” he said. “Each to his own ways.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“‘Brother,’” repeated Grimur thickly. “Calls me brother—shakes -hands. Nobody ever called me brother before. My -own folk won’t touch me, call me Luse-Grimur, and keep far -out of reach of vermin. Ay, it’s true enough what they say -of you, Guest One-eyed. God’s blessing, man.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We’ll have Grimur drowning his lice in floods of tears,” -grumbled the Bishop. “See them swimming around and -saying their prayers, Amen!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You, Bishop,” said Grimur warningly—“well for you -this good man’s here. If it weren’t for him, I’d send you -swimming and saying your prayers in earnest for less than -you’ve said.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Filthy beast,” said Gudda scornfully, and spat at the -Bishop, who only laughed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed turned to him with a keen glance.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>“Have you ever thought,” he said quietly, “that one day -must be your last—that your tongue may be silent for ever -after any word you have spoken?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ho, yes. And I’ve got it all ready what I’m going to -say. When I get to the Gates of Heaven—if the Devil hasn’t -pinched my soul all hot on the way—I’ll say to the Lord: -‘Here you are; Behold the Son of Man!’ That’s my words.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You also are my brother,” said Guest the One-eyed. And -he held out his hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Bishop spat in it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed stood silent gazing at his extended -hand. Then he sat down and sobbed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Bishop’s laugh of derision died away. He stood for -a moment breathing heavily, then slunk out of the shed and -went away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The other three stood silently watching, afraid to look -at each other, uncertain what to do.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After a little Guest the One-eyed regained his self-control, -and, looking up at them, he said quietly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Friends, do not hate him; believe that he is not worse -than others. Only, the way to his heart is longer and harder -to find.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have far to go,” he said, after a pause. “Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God’s blessing,” murmured the others as he left.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stood for a moment outside the shed, uncertain which -way to turn. He would have liked to go to Hof, to the -vicarage on the other side of the fjord, but it was too far -to walk. This was his last day, and already a good part -of it was gone, though he had lost no time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He hobbled down to the beach to see if there might chance -to be a boat going across. Just as he neared the slope, he -perceived a little group of people gathered round something -he could not see. Close by, a small rowing-boat was drawn -up on the sand. Going closer, he saw a man bending over a -heap of clothes. Presently the man rose up, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He is dead.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Those near bared their heads and made the sign of the -cross.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>Guest the One-eyed needed but a glance at the ragged heap -to recognize it—it was the body of the Bishop.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And only a moment since I was with him,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We were too late,” said a fisherman. “Saw him throw -himself into the sea, and hurried after. But he held on to -some weed down below—look, there’s some of it in his hand -still.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, true enough, the dead hand clutched a tangle of weed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“So he is gone already to stand before the Lord,” he -murmured. “Poor soul—God grant him peace.” And he -made the sign of the cross above the body.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The men were running the boat out. He went up to them -and asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are there many going across?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Only myself,” answered a young man. “I am working -at the vicarage, and going back there now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Will you take me with you to the other side of the fjord?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Gladly,” answered the young man, and flushed with -pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The day was fine now, but clouds were racing across the -sky. Rain and hail had ceased, only the shadows of the -clouds darkened the water as they passed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed sat still, gazing around him as the boat -shot out into the fjord. His eyes took in the landscape; -there, nestling in the valley, lay the homestead of Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sight of it moved him; this was the place that had -been his home. Strange to think of it now. There his infant -limbs had learned to walk, and thither he turned now, for -the last steps on his road of life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was roused from his meditations by the youth, who -nodded over towards a steep cliff rising from the water.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was where Sera Ketill killed himself,” he said. -“You’ve heard of Sera Ketill?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. I knew him. Better, perhaps, than many did.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“A monster of wickedness he must have been,” said the -young man, as if inviting the other to tell what he knew.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the moment, Guest the One-eyed was dull to the pain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>which condemnation of Sera Ketill usually caused him. He -was about to answer absently, “Judge not ...” but checked -himself and sat gazing vacantly across the water.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I never thought to sail on the sea again,” he said, as if -to himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Again?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. I have sailed far in my time, and seen many lands.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young man seemed to take this as a jest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You mean in thought, I take it?” he suggested.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed looked at him. “You are not without -sense,” he remarked. “Do you travel in thought yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young man laughed, and shook his head. “Not much. -But I am going to America this winter.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do not do that,” said the other quietly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why not? There is good money to be made there.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“True. But it is easiest to die in the place where one was -born.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have not thought of dying just yet.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Maybe not. But life leads only to death. Death is -the only thing we can be certain of gaining; perhaps the -only gain.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I had heard that Guest the One-eyed preached the Gospel -of Life,” said the young man seriously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And you are disappointed to find that Guest the One-eyed -is only human after all?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young man did not reply, and they went on in silence. -They were more than half-way across the fjord by now. -Guest the One-eyed sat thinking of the strange currents beneath -the smooth surface, and the marvels of life in the -hidden depths. All seemed incomprehensible; the sea, the -life of man—they were much alike. Human existence was -merciless, restless, as the restless tossing of the waves.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a relief to step out of the boat and tread good earth -again; for a moment his mission was forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the sight of the churchyard brought it once more to -his mind. He passed through the gateway. The church was -new—a more imposing edifice than the old one. Bright in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>colour, and clean and pleasant in appearance—as he looked, -memories of the old, dark, forbidding little place rose to -his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the entrance door the old stone steps remained. He -knelt down upon them, and pressed his forehead against -the stone. Then he rose, and went to the burial-place of -Borg. He found the stone he was seeking, and laid himself -down beside it in silent prayer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When at last he rose, he was so weak that he could hardly -drag himself along. He would not enter the vicarage, however, -though he needed rest and food. Passing on, he took -a narrow, unfrequented path down towards the valley.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man who had rowed him over had at once told the -household that Guest the One-eyed was come, and had gone -into the churchyard. Soon, as he did not appear, they went -out to look for him, searching in every corner where a man -might be. But Guest the One-eyed was nowhere to be seen.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Keeping to the side track for some time, Guest the -One-eyed made his way down from the vicarage -lands unobserved, but soon turned off across the -hills towards the main road. Step by step he dragged himself -towards his home, shivering in fever, weary and exhausted, -leaving the rest to God.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The journey must be made; this road he must travel to -the end, no matter what greeting he might find. Curses -only, it might be; a death without a single kindly word. But -his way to death lay through Borg—and he was nearing the -end of it now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! The words -beat in his blood like a promise of release, his heart sobbed -with joy, and a new hope filled him, driving all doubt away. -Peace and forgiveness were near.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg! All was -brighter now; a childlike happiness came over him. He had -sinned and fled, fearing his punishment; now he was returning -home to be forgiven.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He made such speed as he could, despite his waning -strength. Homeward! homeward!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Rain and hail began to fall once more, but he did not -heed. His mind was full of the thought that he was nearing -a kindly end, a peaceful passing into eternal rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg!</p> - -<p class='c004'>His feet stepped in time to the ring of the words, that -sounded like sweetest music in the ears of the wearied pilgrim. -Never before had there been such a welcome message for -any on earth. Only a bruised and tortured soul could feel -the joy of it: home to Borg! home to Borg!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Great is the glory of the sun that brings delight, of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>spring that fills the world with sweetness, but nothing to the -wonder of returning home after years of struggle, years of -suffering in body and soul, to die among those one loves, -those who will forgive.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Home to Borg! home to Borg! home to Borg!</p> - -<p class='c004'>... Only the stream to cross now ... only the little -slope to climb ... only a few steps more....</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The household at Borg were all within doors. There -was no working outside on such a day. The sheep -had to be looked to now and again. During the -storms they took shelter where they could, but these once -past, they scattered about to graze once more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had set his men to work repairing stables and cowsheds, -taking a part himself in what had to be done. But -there was no such pressing haste; the hands went to their -work with gossiping and laughter, telling stories of all sorts, -from gruesome ghost-tales to amusing anecdotes from near -and far. There was hardly work enough for all. And the -wild weather out of doors made it more cheerful to be within.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and Ørlygur took no part in the general gaiety. -It was not their way to be gloomy, but no one seemed to -notice that today they kept, as it were, somewhat aloof. -The masters might well have something that occupied their -minds, for the moment, as might any one else. And no one -thought anything of their silence, least of all attempting to -intrude on their reserve.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As a matter of fact, neither Ormarr nor Ørlygur was in -the slightest degree depressed, but each had that in his mind -which claimed his attention beyond all else.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur could not forget his visit to Bolli the day before. -Time and again the various impressions of what had passed -recurred to his mind—how he had sat waiting, how clean -and tidy everything had been in the place. And the girl—every -single movement of hers was fixed in his memory, -even to the ever-restless little finger of her left hand. He -repeated over and over again the words he had heard her -speak; even the intonation was still fresh in his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So deeply was he occupied with these recollections that he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>found little thought for Guest the One-eyed, and yet he -longed to see the old man again. He felt an ever-increasing -desire to talk with him, and, in particular, to learn from a -reliable source whether his father had really been so evil -a man as was generally declared to be the case. Possibly -Guest the One-eyed might be able to recount something at -least to the credit of the former priest. Had there been anything -good in him, Guest the One-eyed would surely have -found it. And Ørlygur earnestly hoped that his father might -prove to have been not altogether bad.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was thinking of a dream he had had the night before. -It was hardly any connected dream, only a sudden -vision that had come while he slept. He had seen his father -and Sera Ketill standing hand in hand at the foot of his bed. -That was all. But Ormarr could not get the vision out of his -mind, and was superstitious enough to attach some importance -to it. The more he thought of it, the more he felt sure it -must mean something—what, he could not say.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Was it that his father had wished to declare to him that -he had forgiven Ketill, and no longer desired any feeling -of enmity to exist between the brothers? It seemed the most -reasonable explanation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But how could his father ever expect him to forgive Ketill, -after he had witnessed the terrible scene in the church, and -all it had cost? Not only the life it had taken; there was -also the tragedy of the poor woman who had dragged through -twenty years of life a mental wreck. Ormarr had seen his -brother denounce their father from the pulpit for the sin he, -Ketill, had committed; the consequences of that sin had been -left to Ormarr to mitigate as far as he could.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr himself had only known his brother as a boy. All -the time he had been abroad they had never met, until the -time when Ketill appeared in Copenhagen about to enter on -his priesthood. And on that occasion, despite the claims of -relationship, Ormarr had found it impossible to feel any real -liking for him. Now, knowing as he did that even at that -time the avowed servant of God had a sin upon his conscience -of which he showed no sign, it was impossible to feel any -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>regard for him. Since then they had had no intercourse with -each other, and it had never occurred to Ormarr that Ketill -could ever feel himself unfairly treated in the apportionment -either of material inheritance or of affection. Ormarr had -never sought to probe the workings of his brother’s mind, -and had no idea of the way he schemed and wrought in -secret. He had seen only the outward effect of action, knowing -nothing of the inner cause, and all that he had seen had -been evil. So evil, indeed, had Sera Ketill’s actions been -that they seemed to justify the name that had been given -him—the Devil’s Priest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No. He searched his mind and heart, but could not find -a single spark of kindly feeling towards his brother, much -less affection. No matter how hard he tried to be impartial, -he was forced to admit that the expression even of any other -feeling than that of hatred would be falsehood. It was easy -to say, “Forgive the dead,” but—he still hated his brother -and loathed his memory. The man was dead, and had already -heard his judgment pronounced. Ormarr himself -might die, but he felt that even on the point of death he could -not feel otherwise than he did now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill had been evil all through; no act had been so mean -but he could stoop to it, no redeeming feature could be found -in all his doings. He had violated all the laws of love and -kinship, and trampled all that was sacred underfoot. Lying -and fraud had been his chosen weapons, and his methods -were as foul as his soul. Forgive him? No—it was all beyond -forgiveness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To forgive him would be almost like becoming himself an -accomplice in his brother’s evil deeds; his soul would be tarnished -by the mere toleration of such a memory.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Devil’s Priest had been his brother, blood of his -parents’ blood; it did not help him. It was impossible to -forgive. It seemed natural and inevitable as the breath -of life to curse him, hate him, and condemn him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Even his death had been that of a coward—a fitting end. -And the last attempt to win the hearts of the people after -death by leaving his fortune to the poor—that, too, was a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>meanness entirely in keeping with the rest. It had gained -him nothing, after all, for the poor accepted his gifts, but -reserved the right to curse him, all the same.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No—even though his father took Ketill by the hand, and -led him forward to ask his brother’s pardon, though the vision -were to come a hundred times, night after night for the rest -of his life—he could not forgive him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Thus Ormarr thought, and his heart grew ever harder -towards his brother. Later in the day, passing by Alma’s -window, he saw her sitting there, with eyes staring emptily -out into space. And his indignation rose anew; he muttered -between his teeth a curse on the name of the Devil’s Priest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The household were sitting down to the evening meal when -Guest the One-eyed came crawling on hands and knees up -the slope towards the house. Ørlygur, seeking solitude for -the enjoyment of his thoughts and dreams, was the only -one out of doors; he at once noticed the approaching figure, -and hurried towards him, heartily glad at the meeting. He -no longer felt awkward or shy, but promptly seized the -beggar’s sack to carry up to the house himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am glad you have come,” he said, shaking hands -warmly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man stood up with difficulty; his legs were tottering -under him. He looked earnestly at the young man with -his solitary eye, evidently noting with satisfaction the unfeigned -pleasure in his face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His brain throbbed still to the words: Home to Borg! -home to Borg! And he returned the young man’s greeting -in a voice hardly audible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had come home—and his son was glad to see him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then suddenly he realized that his son did not know him, -and the thought dashed his gladness to the ground in a -violent reaction.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur took him by the arm, and led him through to the -courtyard. They had nearly reached the house when Alma -came out, leaning on old Kata’s arm. Kata had seen him -coming, and had brought her mistress out to meet him.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>At sight of the two women, Guest the One-eyed all but -fell. With an effort, Ørlygur led him to the big slab of stone -that stood in the middle of the courtyard and could be used -as a seat. The old man sank down on it, covering his face -with his hands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur, alarmed at the old man’s evident illness, hurried -into the house to call his father.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata was in high spirits, and talked volubly to her mistress.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I knew he would come; it was to be. Not a doubt of -it but God has brought him here, at the end of his wanderings. -Truly God is Almighty.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the beggar sat on his stone, sobbing and murmuring -brokenly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My God! my God!—this is my doing; I have put out -the light of her soul. Those empty eyes! O God, a dreadful -thing! And Thou hast willed it so, that I should see and -understand there could be no forgiveness, for all my prayers -no mercy.... Lord, Thy will be done!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The two women came up to him; he raised his head and -looked at them, with fear in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Danish Lady came nearer, and stroked his hair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But old Kata took his hand, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Welcome now! God has forgiven you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man sat still, with a face of despair, the tears pouring -down his cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God can never forgive me,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He can,” said old Kata earnestly. “God can forgive -all sins of all mankind. And you have borne His punishment -with patience.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have borne His punishment, yes. And now there is -only death.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old woman’s wrinkled face lit with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Be glad of that,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Guest the One-eyed sat drinking in the peace that flowed -to him through the gentle touch of Alma’s fingers as they -stroked his hair. Old Kata watched him, and understood.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“See,” she said, “she does not know—and yet she knows -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>enough. That is her way with all who she feels are good -at heart and suffering. No other would she touch. And -never has she come to any with such tenderness as now. -Heaven bless her.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Heaven bless her,” repeated the broken man.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Just at that moment Ormarr came out from the house, -Ørlygur close behind him. The boy had whispered to his -father that Guest the One-eyed had come, and was evidently -ill. Ormarr had risen immediately and came striding out -now with a friendly smile on his face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The beggar rose to his feet, looked him in the face, and -bowed his head. Ormarr stood rooted to the spot, and -deathly pale. This old man, this wandering beggar, was his -brother, the one-time priest—the Devil’s Priest. And in a -moment all the stories he had heard of him passed through -Ormarr’s mind—his wisdom, his unselfishness, his generosity -and self-sacrifice. Ormarr saw the depth of his misery, how -deeply he was crushed and humbled, body and soul. And -he had seen Alma caressing him, thus placing him at once -among the “good.” And this living witness to Life’s vengeance -upon sin, with its merciless humiliation, wiped away -all hatred from his heart. But a moment ago he had hated -his brother; now all was changed. Ormarr sought down into -the depths of his heart to see if any vestige of hate remained, -but found none; all unkindliness was gone, and only pity and -sympathy remained—yes, and love. Once more the vision -of the night before rose to his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Swiftly he stepped towards the pitiful figure and raised -him up; the two stood sobbing in each other’s arms. Two -sufferers under the heavy yoke of life; two creatures with -whom life had played its pitiless game of love and hate; two -brothers in strife and sorrow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And when they had stood thus awhile, Ormarr kissed his -brother and stroked his cheek, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Welcome home, brother.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And Ketill answered: “God bless you, Ormarr. I have -come from our father’s grave, and I felt in my heart that -you would forgive me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>Ørlygur had been watching the scene with deep emotion. -At first he saw in it nothing but an unusually hearty welcome -on the part of Ormarr towards a wandering beggar. But -gradually it became clear to him that it was more than this, -and as their words revealed the truth, he stood half wondering -if it could be real.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then Ormarr turned to him and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ørlygur, it is your father.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a moment the young man stood still, his face twitching -in the effort to control his feelings. Then he gave up -and, sobbing openly, embraced the old man in his turn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here was a new joy, a thing undreamed of. From childhood -he had believed his father dead, and in death remembered -only with execration by all who had known him. And -here was his father alive, a man whom all who knew him -blessed. No longer any need to ask if it were not possible to -find some little good in all his father’s deeds; Guest the One-eyed -was a man whose good deeds were told on every side. -This was his father; one whom the whole country blessed and -revered for his Christian spirit and unselfish life. A man -who left with all some kindly memory of every meeting; one -who knew better than all his fellows how to bring out the good -in every man. However terribly he might have sinned, it had -been more than atoned for in those twenty years of humility -and self-sacrifice. Surely the life of Guest the One-eyed -was enough to expiate all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So Ørlygur thought, as he wept in his father’s arms, and -his heart trembled to think how wonderful were the ways -of life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly the old man shivered and sank down, unable to -stand. They helped him to a seat on the stone, supporting -him tenderly. His body shook with a convulsive fit of coughing; -his mouth filled with blood, and he smiled as he saw -what it was.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and Ørlygur carried him into the house, Kata and -Alma following behind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As soon as they had laid him on the bed, Ormarr left the -room, saying he would return directly.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>He went into the large dining-room, where his wife was -still busy with supper for the workers. A girl who was -helping her left the room as he entered; Ormarr closed the -door behind her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa glanced at him, laid down the things she was holding, -and sat down on a chest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What is it, Ormarr?” she asked in a low, anxious voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr opened his lips to speak, but could not. He took -her hand and sat stroking her hair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“This,” he said at last. “Guest the One-eyed has come. -And he is ill—very ill—I fear he is dying.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Dying—oh, what can we do? What is it? Can we get -a doctor to help?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa had risen to her feet as she spoke, but something in -Ormarr’s look checked her, and she sat down again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr’s voice was hardly recognizable as he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There is more. Guest the One-eyed is ... is my brother ... Ketill....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ketill! Alive?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was silent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He lives,” said Runa, as if to herself. “Thank God—thank -God for that!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You—you are glad of that,” said Ormarr eagerly. Then -he turned away. “He is here,” he went on, “and dying. -I have forgiven him—and Alma ... she was stroking his -hair....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Alma?” repeated Runa, deeply moved. “Oh ... and -that is Guest the One-eyed. No wonder that he never came -here before.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr sat down beside his wife, then rose again. “Shall -we ... will you come and see him?” he said. “We have -put him to bed in the little room.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” said Runa. “Do you think he will die?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am afraid so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If only death may bring him peace. It has been a weary -way for him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They entered the room together. Ketill lay very still, -and the others were careful not to disturb him. He opened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>his eyes as they approached, and at sight of Runa he covered -his face with his hands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She bent over him, and kissed his forehead gently. Then, -sitting down at the bedside, she said in a calm, soft voice:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look at me, Ketill.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She laid her hands on his and said again:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look at me, Ketill. It is all forgiven.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But he kept his face turned from her, and only muttered, -sadly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How could you ever forgive me?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look at me, Ketill, and see.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he looked up into her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is true,” he said. “Love—only love and kindness -there. You have forgiven me—thank you for that, Runa. -Heaven bless you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He lay still for a while, and his breathing seemed easier. -Then suddenly he raised his head and looked round.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nothing left now but to die,” he said. “I can see it is -getting dark already. Let me see it to the end—the end of -the day; the twilight and dear faces round me. I shall not -see tomorrow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do not talk,” said Runa gently. “Do not tire yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Let me talk,” he answered, with a smile. “My tongue -will not have long to talk at all; it will last me the little that -is left. Perhaps it might speak some little word that would -live in memory—if only that might be. My friends, do not -think I fear to die—that I would put it off a single second -if I could. It would be good to live with you, but there is -more than that to think of. Only death can make atonement -complete—and blessed be death for that it does. Forgive me -for my words—I would not hurt you, any one, or make light -of your goodness—you, who have forgiven me. But it is -true that only death can give me peace and forgiveness of -all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looked from one to another of those standing round.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Friends—beautiful faces,” he went on. “And I can see -the souls of all through your eyes, and all your thoughts. -My heart bleeds for all the pain and sorrowing that I who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>was Sera Ketill left to you. Even you, my son, young as -you are, have found suffering already in life. Shall I tell -you what I read in your eyes now? Sorrow—sorrow that you -cannot feel all regret now that your father is to die. Do not -grieve that I tell you, Ørlygur; your thoughts are the clean, -good thoughts of a child, and I love them. There is more in -your mind too. I know what it means to you to learn now -that your father did not die as you thought—a suicide. But -Sera Ketill died then, only a Guest on earth remained behind. -And there is one thing more, that you yourself perhaps would -not have said before so many—you are thinking of the girl -you have chosen, and how she, too, will be glad to hear what -you have learned today. Come here to me, Ørlygur, and -take my blessing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur rose, and the tears he had been trying bravely -to repress flowed freely now. He fell on his knees beside the -bed, and hid his face in the coverlet. The old man laid his -hand on his son’s head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Best that it should be said,” he went on. “And you -may be glad of your choice. Her heart is pure, as yours -is. And she will be faithful—as you. Clean and pure in -heart....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He broke off, weeping.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Clean and pure in heart,” he murmured brokenly. “Oh, -that I had been so ... that I had been....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His voice was lost, and for some time he could not speak. -Then with an effort he controlled himself, and spoke again:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nothing done can be undone. By the grace of God it -may seem that wrong has been atoned for and forgiven. I -do not know whether I have atoned for my sins, or whether -they can ever be wiped out. Ormarr, you are wondering -yourself now how it can be that the hatred of me that still -glowed for a moment in your eyes when you found me before -has vanished so suddenly. Shall I tell you why it was? It -was because you saw and understood how I had suffered—suffered -the pains of hell, more than a man can bear. And -because you had suffered too. In suffering all hearts meet; -more than all, when death and the ties of blood are there to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>help. And you, Runa, you are thanking God that I am still -alive, and that I have suffered as I have. Never a doubt -in your heart but that God has forgiven me. And so you, -too, have forgiven. Kata, you and I can read each other’s -thoughts; our thoughts are one. And though you know it -before I speak, let me say it; it is you I have to thank most -of all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was silent for a moment, turned over on his side, and -went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“At the moment when it was in my mind to throw myself -into the sea—I had thought to drown myself in my despair—I -remembered you. I had often thought of you, and -guessed something of the sorrow at your heart, though you -never let it be seen. I knew your story—knew that one had -deceived you, and that you could not forget. I saw how you -went about as a blessing to others, though you suffered more -than all the rest. And it seemed to me that perhaps your life -was, after all, the greatest thing—greater than all else, to -put self aside and live for others. And it was then I felt -the desire to try if I could not wipe away my sin—try to -spread blessings around me instead of despair. And so I -fled away to a distant part, hiding at night and travelling -by day. ‘Guest’ I called myself, and was the poorest of men, -a beggar, a wanderer, living by the grace of God and man, -eating with the dogs, and sleeping at night in barns or sheds -among the cattle. And I had not wandered long before -I found enough for me to do. Wherever I came, I found -strife and malice and envy and misunderstanding among -those who should have lived together in love. And I took -upon me to work for reconciliation between my fellow-men—with -one another, and with life and death. For men -forget that life is but a speck in the vastness of space without -end; that life comes from death and moves towards -death in a narrow circle. And so they fight to the death, -and seek to wound their fellows, ay, and strew poison in -their wounds, forgetting that every hurt a man deals his -fellow burns deepest in his own heart. With hands thirsting -for blood and souls afire with hate they fight one against -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>another—as they had fought for generations. And the -priests—the servants of God? Why do they not go out -among the people, speaking to each, and trying to link the -souls of all together in brotherly love? Instead of standing -up like idols aloof in their pulpits, and delivering the -word of God as an oracle. <em>That</em> is the only priesthood that -is worthy of its name, the only way to show forth God’s -word so that it shall be felt and understood and live in the -soul itself. I could have won many a man to leave his home -and follow me—to leave his father and mother, his wife, and -go with me. But how many are ripe for such a task? And -it was not for that I had set out upon my way.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The fever increased. He lay bathed in perspiration, and -his eyes glittered more brightly than before. The others -gathered closer round him, trying to calm him, begging him -not to tire himself with talking, but he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And now that I am to go, my greatest sorrow is that there -is none to take up my poor work. For what is the work -of one man? Oh, if there were enough; if there were many -who could understand that the greatest of all is to put aside -self and bring peace on earth. That the greatest joy of all -is to be a poor man, going from place to place and showing -others the way to free their hearts from the yoke of -worldly things. But the priests—they have taken office -and would keep it; they are paid for their work in money, -and grasp at it; they seek a higher and a higher place in -worldly things, for their heart is set on worldly gain—not -with their people, not with their God. It is much to ask. -I know—too much to ask of any in these days. But it is -because none will give it that hatred and dissension live -and grow. I do not know—forgive me that I say this—I -do not <em>know</em> if there is any God, but I believe and hope it. -If I should say I know, it would be a lie. But I do know -that there is more happiness in peace than in a divided mind. -I know that enmity makes the heart evil, and that friendship -makes it good. And I know that our life is made -richer by love and goodness; easier to bear, more natural. -Where all is hatred and strife, who can find any meaning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>in life at all? The only thing that helps us to understand -life at all is our own striving for the best in it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The room grew darker. As the sick man spoke his last -words, the daylight faded.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Light,” he said. “The darkness will be long enough -when it comes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A candle was lighted and placed beside the bed. Silence -filled the room, broken only by the old man’s heavy breathing. -Those around him were busy each with his own -thoughts. Alma sat on the sofa, and had apparently lapsed -into her usual state of semi-consciousness, from which the -arrival of the wanderer had roused her for a moment. It -grew dark and the light was lit, but she did not heed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly the old man whispered faintly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Help me off with my clothes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Runa and Ormarr did so; tears came to their eyes at the -sight of his miserable rags. Ørlygur sat apart, his face swollen -with weeping. Ketill smiled as the cold sheets touched -his body.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly his expression changed to one of earnest thought. -And after a little while he asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If—if Alma would come and sit beside me here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Danish Lady roused herself a little as they helped her -to the bedside; she took the sick man’s hands in hers and -stroked them. Then after a little while she sank back into -helplessness again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ketill lay with a smile on his face. Once he tried to lift -his head, but could not.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Only a little while now,” he said. Then, glancing -towards old Kata, he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Lay her hands on my lips, that I may kiss them.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Kata did so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Forgive me,” he murmured, as he kissed the limp hands -of her who had been his wife. “And good-bye for a little -while.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is time now,” he said faintly—“time to say good-bye -to all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>One after another bent over him, kissed his forehead, and -received the touch of his lips.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur came last. He threw himself down sobbing on -the bed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My son—my son,” the old man whispered. Then his face -seemed to harden, and he lay as if unconscious. After a -while he looked up again, and seemed trying to speak. -Faintly at first, then in a stronger voice, he spoke once more:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God—God—my God!...”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His hands twitched feebly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Are you still there? Have they all gone?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His hands dropped limply to his sides. Those near him -touched his fingers, but could not speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I can feel you are with me still. But I cannot move -my hands. Is this death?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He breathed with difficulty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly, with his old, powerful voice, he cried aloud:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Alma, Alma!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He raised himself up in bed and then fell back. Guest -the One-eyed—a Guest on earth for twenty weary years—was -no more. And Sera Ketill, priest, had won the peace -he sought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Those who watched and understood had eyes only for the -man there on the bed. None noticed the Danish Lady.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When her name was called, Alma clutched at her heart. -Now she sat still, looking vaguely round. Then, rising, she -asked in a new voice that made the others start.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Where am I?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, flushing slightly, she went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was Ketill’s voice.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She pressed her hands to her breast once more, and sank -down. Her heart had ceased to beat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her sudden, unexpected death came with a shock to the -others, and they stopped weeping. For a moment all stood -as if turned to stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then they lifted her up and laid her on the bed beside her -husband. And all knelt beside the bed in silent prayer.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>The candle flickered in the dark, throwing a restless gleam -on the pale faces of the dead. The darkness seemed creeping -in to cover them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a little all was deathly still.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then old Kata rose and opened a window—“to let the -souls pass out.” And, going over to the others, she knelt -with them beside the bed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the light went out in the draught, and darkness closed -about the living and the dead.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span> - <h2 class='c007'>BOOK IV<br /> <span class='large'>THE YOUNG EAGLE</span></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>A pale face showed behind a window in a dimly -lighted room. The features were young, but sharply -marked, and the eyes had a strange, far-away look. -It was as if they were peering into life from within the -portals of death, or as if searching into the great unknown, -striving to fathom the hereafter, longing for peace, praying -for peace, yet finding none. Finding only a growing unrest, -a torturing uncertainty that grew and grew, an ever-increasing -agony of longing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>That is what the night saw.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the eyes behind the window looked out over the landscape -that lay spread before them in shadowy billows under -the dark autumn sky, seeking to recognize something here -and there. That way should be a homestead; it was there -in the daylight; surely it should be visible now. But the -eyes looked in vain; the gazer found himself at last imagining -that the great expanse of shadow was that of a cloud on -which he sailed across the sky.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a sort of comfort in thus letting imagination -run its course. Yet unconsciously he pressed his foot to the -floor, as if to make sure of being still on earth. Up in the -whirling ocean of space there was no lasting foothold anywhere. -And yet it was a pleasant fancy—to be sailing -through the sky. Clouds were things that came and went, -and melted into space under the rays of the sun. When -this particular cloud on which he rode should end, and he -himself be hurled through space, where would he land? -Would he land anywhere at all?</p> - -<p class='c004'>He expected to see the dark shadow change its shape, but -in vain. This was a check; the sameness of the outlook -irritated him. Evidently both he and his cloud were shamefully -dull, that they could not move better than this.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>And he looked up towards the heavens, as if to call the -attention of his lazy cloud to its swifter-moving fellows above.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No sooner had he done so, however, than his flight of fancy -was forgotten. There were the stars—and they fascinated -him in turn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Grey clouds spread their net across the heavens, drifting -rapidly from west to east, hiding and revealing the twinkling -stars as they raced by.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly it seemed to him as if the clouds were standing -still, and the stars themselves moved across the sky, crawling -hurriedly over the meshes of the cloudy net, showing clear -in a blue space one moment and vanishing the next.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So intently did he follow the fancied movement of the -stars that in a little time his eyes were dazzled; it seemed -as if he himself had been drawn into a dance of stars.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He closed his eyes. And, as he did so, sank into oblivion, -with a disturbed yet sorely needed rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was only for a moment. Abruptly he again became -conscious of his surroundings. His vision returned from its -wild wanderings, and crept, as it were, behind him—he saw -himself—a pale face behind the window in a dimly lighted -room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sight came as a shock; grim reality had taken the -place of fancy now. And a sensation of horror came over -him—he started back from the window as if he had seen -a ghost.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His eyes fell upon the two open coffins, with their white -draperies, that seemed to take shape as he watched them—the -shape of what lay within. The dim light of the tapers -helped to bring him back to the present, and even the weight -of grief that came with it brought in its train a restfulness -of its own.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silently he crossed the room and sat down at the foot of -the coffins, gazing at them till the white of the wrappings -pained his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, bending forward, he fell into a fit of sobbing. A -sense of utter helplessness came over him; soul and sense -were dulled.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Someone was scraping cautiously at the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sprang from his seat, and fear gripped his heart -once more. He rubbed his eyes, realizing that he -had been asleep, and stared round him to see what had -wakened him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The noise was renewed, this time with a subdued whine. -He grew calmer now, and opened the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A pair of brown eyes and the sharp nose of a dog appeared -in the gloom of the passage. The animal looked up at him -pleadingly, waiting for leave to enter. And once inside, -it stopped still.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur seated himself once more by the coffins, taking no -heed of the dog. He had forgotten it. For the moment he -was occupied wholly with a sense of dissatisfaction with himself; -time after time that night he had allowed himself to -be taken by surprise. First, he had let fancy run riot in -his brain; then, on coming to himself, he had given way to -a sense of fear; sleep had overcome him, and on waking he -had allowed himself to give way to fear again. He knew -there was nothing to fear; he was no coward—it was only -when taken by surprise....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Involuntarily he glanced towards the door, where the dog -had lain down. A pair of bright, watchful eyes met his, -and the thought flashed through his mind that no human -being could be more faithful than this dog. He beckoned -it to him, and the animal promptly obeyed. It crept up close -to him and laid its head upon his knees, licking his hand -affectionately.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a moment he enjoyed the kindly touch. Then his -thoughts went wandering again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I can never be happy again,” he thought to himself. “I -cannot understand how any one can be happy now. What -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>pleasure is there in anything? Everything dies at last. -Eternity—the everlasting—it is terrible to think of. And -all one’s life but a drop in the ocean—what does it matter if -we live or die? And our joys and sorrows—what are they, -after all? All becomes insignificant. Some are glad when -the sun shines; others are glad without knowing why. It is -simple foolishness. Have they never seen a man die? Do -they forget that one day they, too, must die?—die and -rot ...”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The tears flowed down his cheeks, but he did not move; -his features were set as though already stiffening in death.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Die and rot in the grave....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he breathed softly, as if breathing in the air of death -in the room, while the tears still flowed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he closed his eyes, and pictured himself dead and -rotting—his flesh pale and bloodless—turning green and -ghastly—falling from the bones, hanging in strips from the -fingers and stripping like a mask from the face to bare the -clenched, grinning teeth.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He opened his eyes with a start; an icy shiver passed -through him, and he clenched his hands. But he did not -move from his seat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God in heaven,” he thought, “I am going mad!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His tears ceased to flow. And in a moment he was cool and -collected once more. It was as if the trouble had passed -from him, leaving only a deep earnestness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And in unconscious effort to protect himself his thoughts -turned towards the woman he loved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He saw her now, in his mind; her lovely figure, her masses -of golden hair, her bright, smiling face, and her eyes, that -spoke so eloquently when they met his. Involuntarily he -smiled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But no sooner was he conscious of having smiled than the -joy was gone, and his face relapsed into the same cold, sad -look.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If she had never seen me,” he thought. “If she had -lived far away, or in some other time—then her eyes would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>have smiled at the sight of another as they do now for me. -What is it all worth after all? An accident—a casual chance. -Or could it be that, even if both she and I had been different, -we should have loved each other still?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears came to his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I can never be happy,” he thought again. “Once I was -always happy; always sure that the future would bring joy, -more joy ... and I never dreamed but that it was good and -happy to live. Now I am changed. I cannot understand it -all. Everything seems different—even my thoughts are new -to me. All changed ... I am like a stranger to myself. -And why—what is the cause of it all? Because my father -that I believed to be dead comes home alive—and dies.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sat staring before him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Once more he surveyed the varied phases through which -he had passed from the time when ten days before he had -first come upon Guest the One-eyed in the mountains—not -knowing then that the wise and kindly wanderer, beloved -of all, was no other than his father, the hated Sera Ketill, -who had disappeared twenty years back, and was looked on -as dead—from that first meeting until now, when he sat -keeping watch over two corpses; that of the beggar who had -been twenty years on pilgrimage to expiate his sins, and that -of his wife, the Danish Lady at Hof, who during those twenty -years had paid the penalty of her husband’s crimes, only to -forgive him at the last and follow him on his last long journey -across the river of Death.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a week now since the two had died. And they were -to be buried next day.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur had begged and received permission to watch over -them on this their last night on earth. It had been his great -desire to keep that vigil alone, for he hoped that the night -would bring him some revelation of himself; his feelings, -his strength, his will.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The succession of unexpected happenings, the complete -revolution in his inner and outer life, had left him in a state -of vague unrest, a prey to dreams and longings hitherto unknown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>to him. A strange and mysterious power seemed -hovering over him, possessing him completely. All life -seemed changed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The desire for common worldly pleasures and success, the -thought of being looked up to by his fellow-men—all seemed -empty and meaningless now—or even sinful.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The dying words of Guest the One-eyed had burnt themselves -into his heart, filling him with remorse and spiritual -unrest. What was it he had said about a successor—one to -carry on his work—to show his fellows that the greatest joy -in life was a pilgrimage in poverty and humility, setting -aside all worldly things?...</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur could not forget—the dying man’s voice; his intonation -remained firmly impressed on his mind; he saw again -the look of sadness on the wrinkled face as the wanderer lay -back on his pillow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And to him, the son of the aged pilgrim, it was as the -opening of a new world of thought. He had promised himself -to take up the task, to continue the work his father had -begun, without a thought of the difficulties that might lie in -his way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As long as the undertaking remained as but an inward -emotion, a consciousness of his intention, burning within him -like a sacred flame that consumed all gloomy doubts, so long -did he feel himself uplifted in soul, raised far above to a -height where his bereavement itself seemed but a little thing. -He almost felt that in thus bowing to his father’s will and -vowing to accomplish his desire, he had saved the weary -pilgrim from the horror of death.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And for a while the difficulties of realization never crossed -his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At times he did remember that he was a lover. But the -self-reproach with which he realized that he had for a time -forgotten his love passed off again: a momentary remembrance, -no more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>During the first days of this his new passion he was as -one entranced, lifted above himself in a fervour of resolve. -His soul was possessed by one thought, by a mighty dazzling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>dream. A glorious ray of golden light streamed into his -mind, to the exclusion of all else. His soul answered to but -one note—the mighty theme of self-sacrifice that rang through -it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Intoxicated with joy, he passed the long nights without -sleep. At first the new, strange exultation more than outweighed -the physical strain, and the grey days that came and -went seemed bright and beautiful. He had never known what -it was to suffer from sleeplessness; nights without sleep -seemed now but an added treasure, an extended scope for -happy consciousness. But soon the climax came, and his feast -of dreams was at an end.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The days lost their beauty. He was weary and irritable -from the moment he rose; he longed for night to come, for -peace and solitude in which to dream again. But when night -came and he sought to gather up once more the threads -of his imaginings, his brain was dull, and his mind refused -to frame new thoughts. At first he tried to content himself -with merely recalling what he had dreamed before. It satisfied -him for a while, but a repetition showed the things once -glorious as dull and faded; he could hardly understand how -he had ever been so moved by what now seemed vague and -distant. And with sorrow in his heart, as for something lost, -he fell asleep. Next day he resolved to watch the last night -by the dead, and had obtained his wish to keep the vigil alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It had not dawned upon him that he had already been -defeated—that the life he had resolved upon was a thing -foreign to him, with no root in his soul, an abrupt departure -from his natural bent and his former ways. He did not -know that suffering was a gift of Fate, granted to many, -yet to few in such extent that they are able to forget their -own good and ill, and live for others wholly. He did not -know that it is only the chosen of Sorrow who are freed from -all thought of self.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Even had he grasped the truth, it would not have helped -him to relinquish his ideas and admit they were but weavings -of an over-sensitive mind. His nature was too stubborn to -give in without a bitter struggle.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>And his doubts did not come openly to begin with, but in -disguise; only later, after long uncertainty and pondering, -did they reveal themselves as what they were.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Irresolution, following on the tense pitch of excitement, -rendered him distrustful of himself to an unwonted degree.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sat now with bowed head, as if listening intently in -a world of silence. And it seemed as if the silence spoke -to him. No natural utterance, this sound that reached his -ears, but an unknown tongue, a passing murmur of something -mysterious—a wave that rose and fell, now loud, now -low.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He strove with all his sense to find some meaning—at -times it seemed as if words and sentences were there, but -disconnected, without any purport he could understand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Breathlessly he listened. His brain throbbed; all his -faculties were concentrated in one present effort; this thing -that was being told him now—he must hear it, understand it. -That was all his task. Perhaps it might solve all the riddles -of his questioning—give him a key to life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And suddenly his sub-conscious mind came to his aid, -whispering some lines from a poem by Hjalmar à Bolu. And -in relief he murmured the words to himself, lifting his head -and breathing freely once more:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“If Thou wilt not hear my words,</div> - <div class='line'>Divine, eternal grace,</div> - <div class='line'>Then shall the burning cry of my blood</div> - <div class='line'>Sunder the heavens about Thee.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The stars in the east grew fainter, till they paled into -nothingness, and the day rose slowly over the hills.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The clouds had gone, save for a heavy bank that -hung becalmed in the west. Daylight spread abroad, and the -blue of the sky grew brighter, until it almost lost itself in a -shimmering white.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A strangely beautiful morning; the earth seemed aglow -with such delight of day as is only seen when its face is -furrowed by autumn. The heather shone blood-red on the -hillside, as if striving to show the world that its glow was -that of life, and not of death. The waters of fjord and stream -were calm and still as if storm and turbulence were strangers -there. Even the unmown grass of the fields was smiling with -dewdrops on every yellowing stalk and blade reflecting the -bright rays. And over the close-cropped stretches where -the grass had been cut, the dew lay in a glistening carpet. -Not a sound on the stillness of the air, not so much as the -cry of a sheep or the neighing of a horse.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Not till the farm hands were astir, with an opening of -doors and the sound of human voices, was the spell broken, -and the almost unworldly stillness gave place to the work and -life of common day.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The first to open his door that morning was Ormarr à -Borg. And he remained standing with bowed head close -outside the house. He was not thinking of the world of -nature about him, and paid no heed to the glory of the morning -sun that shone on his white hair and slight, stooping -figure. His features were strained, and the pallor of his -face, the redness of his eyes, showed that he had not slept. -He stood a little while, then folded his thin hands, with -the fingers that were still those of a violinist, bowed his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>head, and with closed eyes and compressed lips prayed the -Lord’s Prayer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he drew himself up, passed his hands over his -face, and smiled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Strange,” he murmured. “Why should I have done -that now? I have said that prayer aloud in church for years, -and at home with the rest. But I have not said it by myself -since I can remember.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The smile left his face, and he grew serious. “What is -more strange,” he continued, “is that I should feel almost -ashamed of it myself after.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He shook his head. “Are we afraid of ourselves more -than of others?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He raised his head and glanced round, seeking for something -else to occupy his mind. He noticed the beauty of the -day, and felt the peace of it with grateful relief.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then he turned, walked through the passage, and softly -entered the room where the dead lay.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was seated by the coffins, his elbows on his knees -and his face buried in his hands. His dog lay at his feet, -asleep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Ormarr entered, he looked up; his eyes showed that he -had been sleeping. Ormarr smiled—a strangely gentle smile—but -made no sign of having seen that the boy had slept. -But Ørlygur sprang to his feet, flushing hotly, and answered -only with an inaudible murmur when Ormarr bade him good -morning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr stepped quietly across the room and made the -sign of the cross above the bodies. Then, turning to Ørlygur, -he said, with great tenderness:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Go in and rest, lad, till it is time to start.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur’s face had paled again; he looked straight in the -other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No!” he said. And his tone was so harsh, so defiant, -that Ormarr wondered what could be in his mind. Possibly -the lad was hurt at the proposal coming a moment after he -had awakened from sleep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I did not mean to hurt you,” said Ormarr quietly.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>“I know,” answered Ørlygur in a gentler tone. “Don’t -misunderstand me. I only meant that—we can always get -all the sleep we need—more than enough.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silently the two men left the room and went out into the -open.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was anxious for a quiet talk with Ørlygur, whose -manner lately had been strange. He had formed his own -opinion as to the reason—but that last defiant “No!” and -the frank, conciliatory tone of the following words seemed -to require some further explanation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It had occurred to Ormarr that, as he had never himself -referred to the girl Snebiorg, Ørlygur might perhaps imagine -he was hostile to any union between them, whereas nothing -could be farther from his mind; had not the boy’s father on -his death-bed given him his blessing? Ormarr was eager to -make his attitude clear in regard to this at least.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As they walked, he studied the young man’s face. There -was a strange, far-away look in his eyes that baffled him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had intended to open the matter directly, but somehow -he felt it impossible to do so now. And, fearing lest Ørlygur -should notice his scrutiny, he looked away, and said casually:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The sun has come to warm the graves for them, it -seems.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur glanced up at the sun, and was silent for a moment; -then he answered absently:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes. The sun must have been his best friend in life.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The old man turned towards him; the tone and manner -in which he had spoken were unusual.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Those in misfortune,” he said softly, “have but few -friends as a rule.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur’s eyes took on the same fixed, determined look -they had shown in the chamber of death a little before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He was not one of those in misfortune,” he answered -steadily, with a dignity beyond his years; “he was more -fortunate than all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr looked at him with his wise old eyes, as if to -read his innermost thoughts. But there was a tremor at -his heart. “This is Faith,” he thought to himself. “Faith -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>in something that seems sure beyond all doubt. It is the -first time it has come to him in life. If the boy were a -Catholic, now, he would turn monk; he is convinced at -this moment that self-abnegation is the one true way. God -alone knows the workings of his mind, but it is a dangerous -crisis to pass through.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, looking away from him again, Ormarr pursued his -own train of thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He is hardly what one would call of a religious bent. -That is well. It may be only a slight attack; perhaps it will -pass off. After all, he is still a child in many ways. But -he needs some one to help him—and must not know it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He smiled at a sudden thought. “I am glad I caught him -asleep.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They reached the wall of the enclosure, and stopped. Then, -as if he had been thinking of this all the time, Ormarr began:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There was something I wanted to say to you. I would -have left it till later, but it is best to get it said. It is something -that concerns you deeply—I mean about the girl.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur started slightly; Ormarr detected at once that he -was ill at ease. But he said nothing, and Ormarr went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You have said nothing to me about any relationship with -her, and perhaps it is as well. But from what your dear -father said, you love one another, and you yourself are fully -determined to marry her. Is that so?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was so taken aback that he was at a loss for a moment. -He felt that there were obstacles in the way, that he -ought to make some objection now. But he could do no -more than stammer out a low-voiced “Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was satisfied. He had gained something at once. -And without appearing to have marked the young man’s -hesitation, still less divine its cause, he continued:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, I don’t see any reason for delay. Once the -matter has been decided, the sooner it is accomplished, the -better. I will confess that at first I was not altogether disposed -to approve of it. You may have noticed that—and -for that reason hesitated to tell me of your intentions. But, -now, I can only say that both your mother and myself are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>looking forward with pleasure to your marriage. It will -be the happiest day of the life that yet remains to us when -we can see you wedded to the woman you love. And as far -as we are concerned, there is nothing to prevent your taking -over the place here in the spring. We are both a little weary, -though we are not so very old. You will understand that -ours has not been a restful life, or a very happy one, and -it will be a double pleasure to see you happily settled. All -that we wish for is to end our days in peace. And so—God -bless you. If our wishes could secure it, Borg should be -once more a home of happiness and peace.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Tears rose to Ormarr’s eyes as he spoke, and his hand -trembled as he offered it. He was deeply moved, partly by -memories of the past that rose up in his mind, and also by -the thought that the young man’s happiness depended on the -success of his, Ormarr’s, own stratagem before it was too late.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur grasped the hand held out to him. He wept at -seeing his foster-father’s emotion, and also because he felt -that he was here being forced into something; he was in a way -defeated. But at the same time the picture of Snebiorg rose -to his mind; it seemed almost as if she were there with them. -What was he to do? Sooner or later he must either prove -false to her or to the promise he had silently given by his -father’s death-bed. For the moment he could come to no -decision—he could only weep. His helplessness pained him. -It was terrible to think that he must choose between giving -up his love or betray his promise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He held Ormarr’s hand in his, and strove to speak, but -could say nothing for tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Say something he must. And at length he stammered out:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Not now—I cannot. Another time. But not—not this -spring.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He let go the other’s hand, and hurried away, with bowed -head. But the old man stood still, looking after him with -tearful eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Poor lad,” he murmured. “But—thank God, he loves -her. And that will save him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Thoughtfully Ormarr walked back to the house.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>On leaving Ørlygur, Ormarr went in to see to the -preparations for the funeral. Ørlygur went off to -a corner of the enclosure where he would be out of -sight of the house. There he stood, leaning against the wall, -and looking out over the valley.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His tears had ceased, and a strange calm crept over him. -“So it was that,” he thought to himself. “It was that -I could not understand. But I see it now. I must choose -between her and—my mission.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The idea involved in this last word made him start.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My mission—but how do I know it is that? Anyhow, -whether or no, it does not matter. I have promised—I have -given my word to one who is now dead—and that my father. -I must either break my word to him, or desert her.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He gazed thoughtfully up at the mountains.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Those mountains there—how wonderful they are. Peak -after peak rising to heaven, and sweet grassy slopes between. -But loveliest looking down, on to the glassy lakes. Borgarfjall, -with its great masses of rock, rising steeply up towards -the sky. No one has ever set foot there—only the eagles have -ever reached those heights.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The look in his eyes faded, and he stood gazing vacantly -before him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Desert her,” he thought to himself. “She who leaned -towards me, and touched my cheek with her own. How could -I think of it! <em>She</em> could never be faithless. How would -she look if she learned?... Oh, the sight would kill me. -Nothing more terrible to see than the eyes of a creature that -has lost what it hoped for and believed in. To see that in -her eyes....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He laughed—a cold, forced laugh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What a coward I am, after all. I can think of leaving -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>her, forsaking her, and breaking promises so sacred that they -could not even be uttered in words. But I dare not even -think of meeting her eyes when she knows. What a cur I -must be—and I—I would go out into the world as an -apostle.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is madness. How could I ever bring peace to any soul, -when I start my pilgrimage by robbing her who trusted me -of her heart’s peace?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>An evil light showed in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I wonder ... would she really suffer so very much after -all?...”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He clenched his fists.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, I deserve to be whipped! And, in any case, I am -not worthy of <em>her</em> love. It seems I am growing into a rogue. -I dare not look her in the face now. Her eyes—so pure ... and her soul, clean and free from any evil thought. -And she—she trusts me—trusts <em>me</em> ... it is horrible!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I might go to her, and tell her everything. She would -understand. But—her heart would feel but one thing of it -all—that we must part. And that is all that my heart can -feel now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sighed, but in a moment his face hardened again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“This is temptation. And I was nearly giving way. -Nearly gave in at the first onset. I am too weak. The first -thing to do is to take some decisive step, to cut off all retreat. -But how?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>A thought came suddenly to his mind, and he shuddered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Today—at the graveside. Say it there, say it for all -to hear; swear it ... and then I shall be bound for life, -for ever. And then—what then?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His whole body trembled; his teeth chattered; he cried -to God in his agony of doubt. But he felt that his prayer -was not sincere. And with faltering step he made his way -back to the house.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A voice within him spoke, urging him earnestly, clearly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Do not do it. It is more than you can keep. You may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>say the words, but you will not mean what you say from -your heart. What <em>can</em> you do or say?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He would not listen, but he tried in vain to disregard the -voice that would be heard. He staggered like a drunken -man; his strength failed him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then the first voice died away and another spoke scornfully:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You will make a fool of yourself, that is all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stopped suddenly, and turned pale. But only for a -moment. Then he walked on with a firm step.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was vanity,” he murmured. “It was only my -fear of what others would think. Now I know what I have -to do.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The funeral of Guest the One-eyed and the Danish -Lady was to take place at noon.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From the time Ørlygur returned to the house to -the setting out of the funeral train, the hours had passed -without his knowing it. Great numbers of people flocked -to the house; all greeted him when they arrived. Some he -greeted in return; others he did not appear to notice at all. -He was strangely absent in his manner, but this was readily -forgiven, as being due to his grief at the sudden loss.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he was called in to bid a last farewell to the mortal -remains before the coffins were closed, he burst into a violent -fit of sobbing. His meditations of the night before on the -emptiness of worldly things, the hopelessness of life, returned -to him vividly. He was conscious, too, that it was not only -the death of these two who had gone that pained him most. -He saw himself as a miserably selfish creature. At such -a time, there should be no place in his heart for other feeling -than sorrow at the double bereavement, and yet in fact he -was only sorry for himself. He despised himself; he felt -that if others could read his heart they would look down on -him in scorn. Their word of sympathy and consolation stung -him; he shrank from the thought of the ceremony to come, -when he would be forced to take part with all these others.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Why not bury our dear ones quietly, in some secluded -spot? Why make an exhibition of one’s grief before the -world? In his own case, it was the more intolerable, since -his grief was in reality not for the dead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He heard the lids screwed down, and stood weeping, with -his handkerchief to his eyes. Suddenly he became aware of -a stir in the room, and looked up. People were standing -round with Prayer Books in their hands, turning the pages -to find the hymn that was to be sung.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>The priest, whom he had not noticed before, was there -standing by the coffins, book in hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur again pressed his handkerchief to his eyes. The -priest was speaking, but he paid no heed to what was being -said, and continued to weep silently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then there was a pause, and the bearers prepared to move. -A psalm was to be sung as the coffins were carried out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur dried his eyes and hurried away, all moving aside -respectfully to let him pass. He ground his teeth, and could -hardly refrain from crying out.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“They should spit on me,” he thought to himself. “It is -no more than I deserve. I am unworthy of their sympathy—I -do not even care for it!” For a moment he felt as if he -must shout the thought aloud.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Outside the house some one handed him the reins of his -horse; the animal stood there ready saddled. He stood beside -it, one arm thrown over the animal’s neck. The horse -rubbed itself affectionately against him, as if inviting the -customary caress. But he took no heed, and remained standing -motionless. His dog lay at the feet of the horse, and -looked up; the two animals exchanged greetings in their own -way, sniffing at each other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The coffins were to be carried by horses, two to each burden. -The first pair were brought forward, and planks slung between -them. Then a psalm was sung, and the first coffin -fastened in its place.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When both were thus secured, the train moved off, the -mourners and followers leading their horses until the psalm -was at an end. Then all mounted, and rode on in silence -towards the vicarage at Hof.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur rode behind the second coffin, gazing out over the -country with tear-stained eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It all looks strange,” he thought to himself. “As if it -were there only for a time. Or is it only myself that am -become a stranger? My mind that has so changed that nothing -in it now can last? It seems so. We see things according -to the mood of our own mind. I seem like a stone set -rolling, knowing nothing of where it will stop.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>“Not a pleasant thing to be compared with, either. A -rolling stone must needs be on the downward track. Well, -after all, most comparisons have a weakness somewhere. A -stone rolling down from barren mountains to a grassy valley, -where it finds a softer bed, has surely changed for the better. -But my path lies the opposite way. And no one ever knew -a stone roll upward. Only the glowing rock, hurled from -the bowels of the earth by a volcano, comes to a rest in the -mountains after an upward flight. Oh, what nonsense!” -he broke off. “I am not a stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Or, at least, it is only my heart that is of stone,” he went -on bitterly. “Why can I feel no real grief at my loss? Why -is there room in my heart for all these things on such a day -as this? Am I worse than other people, I wonder? I do not -feel unkindly towards any one. Or is it that <em>thinking</em> of -sorrow stifles the real sorrow itself? If <em>she</em> were dead....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned pale at the thought, and tears flowed from his -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God in heaven! That would mean death to me—to live -would be impossible. Her body to decay, her golden hair -to be soiled by earth—her eyes lifeless and dull....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His heart beat as if it would burst, and he shivered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Death is disgusting,” he thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he ceased to weep, and a silence seemed to fill him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I cannot bear to think of her as dead,” he thought. -“And yet I have planned to do that which will ruin her life—to -kill her love, and strike her soul the cruellest blow that -any human being can inflict upon another. What a desperate -tangle it all is. Would it not be better for her to die? -Would it not be better if I were to end her life—kill her at -once? Surely it would. But it was not her I was thinking -of. I was only thinking of myself; not of what would be -best for her, but of what would hurt me least. And if it -were better for her to die, then what I am about to do is -a greater crime than if I took her life....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was so deep in thought that he did not observe -the progress of the party until they had reached the churchyard, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>and the others dismounted. Only when the coffin in -front, on which his eyes were fixed, was lowered to the ground -did he come to himself and get down from his horse.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His last thoughts had almost stunned him; his brain seemed -incapable of normal action. As if in a trance he followed -the coffins into the church, and remained standing with bowed -head while the psalms were sung and the priest delivered his -oration. He noticed nothing of what was passing round him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In a few minutes now they would be at the graveside; -the coffins would be lowered, and then, as was the custom, he -would be expected to say something himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>What should he say? There was no clear idea in his mind—well, -no doubt something would occur to him when the -moment came. What he said did not matter much, as long -as he said something.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The coffins were brought out, and the mourners gathered -close round the double grave. Ørlygur stood just behind -the mound of earth that had been thrown up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The coffins were lowered into the earth, the mourners singing -and weeping; the priest cast earth into the grave, and the -last hymn was sung. Mechanically Ørlygur stepped up on -to the mound. He felt that all eyes were upon him—that all -were waiting expectantly for him to speak. He raised his -eyes, and looked round.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His gaze fell on a pair of tear-stained blue eyes on the other -side of the grave. There was a look in them almost of fear—an -anxious uncertainty such as he had never before seen -on <em>her</em> face. But no sooner had her eyes met his than her -expression changed, and the strange look vanished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It had never occurred to him that Snebiorg might be at -the funeral; he had not noticed her till now. She had been -among those who joined the party at the church. It was -a shock to him to see her now, so overcome with grief, and -with that look of doubt and fear upon her face—it struck -him to the heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And here he stood, on a mound by the graveside, with -all eyes upon him. All were waiting to hear what he would -say. Speak now he must. He pulled himself together, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>his heart trembled at the thought of what he must say. <em>She</em> -was standing there. Well, she would forgive him, when she -heard it all—heard the confession and the promise from his -own mouth.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looked round hesitatingly. His foster-father was looking -at him with a strange expression—a look that made him -lower his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had seen that Ørlygur was about to speak. He -did not know what was in the boy’s mind, but something -told him that what he was about to say must not be said. -He fixed his gaze on the young man’s face with all his inner -power concentrated in his eyes, trying to compel his attention. -Ørlygur was looking at Snebiorg; Ormarr saw him hesitate. -This seemed further proof that there was something which -must be averted. At last Ormarr caught his eye, and Ørlygur -bowed his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then Ormarr turned and left the grave. It was a sign -for the gathering to disperse.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the thought which had checked Ørlygur when he met -his foster-father’s gaze was the remembrance of his having -been found sleeping that morning at his vigil by the dead. -With that in his mind, and with that look fixed on his face, -he <em>could</em> not say what he had planned. It was impossible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stood staring down into the grave.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Those present thought only that the boy was too deeply -moved to say the words of affectionate farewell he would have -uttered. And all, even the men who had come up to fill in -the grave, moved away and left him to himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He seemed as if turned to stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Too late,” he thought. “And now—what am I to do? -Is all to go on as before? That cannot be—I at least am no -longer the same....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And with a sigh he thought of <em>how</em> he had changed not for -the better, but for the worse. He was a coward.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, looking down into the grave, he spoke aloud:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am growing less and less worthy to be called your son.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And to himself he continued:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why do you not help me? Why do you not stand by me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>when you see me so weak? Or is it your will that I should -not be aided in this?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he remembered how his father on his death-bed -had blessed his union with Snebiorg, and a wave of joy flowed -through his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Father—father!” he cried, with tears in his voice. “Is -that your will? But what of my promise?...”</p> - -<p class='c004'>His joy turned to grief at the thought. And so, at issue -with himself, he stood looking down into the grave.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The priest came up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What does he want now, I wonder?” thought Ørlygur, -watching the approaching figure with indifferent eyes. The -whole air and bearing of this well-fed, self-satisfied priest -were intolerable to him. It was worst of all when he spoke, -with dead words and traditional phrases that meant nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The priest came up to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My young friend,” he began—he was fifteen years older -than Ørlygur himself—“I can well understand how you must -feel the loss of such a father—a man of rare virtue in this -wicked world. Yet it should be a consolation to you to know -that he died at peace with God.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked at him, thinking still. Here was this man -pouring out a stream of words over him. It was horrible -to hear. “God” in his mouth sounded worse than devil.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We should all remember,” the priest went on, “that however -much we may grieve at losing the dear departed, there -is comfort in the thought that they are beyond the power of -evil—that death is but the gateway to the Kingdom of Glory. -And to these two especially, death must have come as a blessed -deliverance.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked at him without speaking. “He thinks he -is much wiser than I,” was his thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The burial of the dead,” went on the priest, “should -really be an occasion for rejoicing. In any case, the dominant -feeling in the hearts of the bereaved should be one of joy at -the thought that those who have left us have passed to their -true home. And be sure that God looks with more approval -on such a thought than on any outburst of uncontrolled grief, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>which is really nothing but selfish sorrow for the loss we have -sustained through His will, and rebellion against His decrees. -All is according to the will of God, and we should cheerfully -and gladly bow to His divine pleasure.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur let the priest run on. “He is a fool,” he thought. -“He means well, no doubt, but is none the less a fool. This -is one of his stock prescriptions for cases where some formal -consolation has to be delivered. He is a sort of spiritual -quack. When a man loses his father, he pours out a dose -from a bottle—a big bottle, but containing only a very -ordinary mixture. As a student of the human heart, he is -ignorant to a degree. He cannot imagine that a mourner -standing by a grave should have any other feeling than that -of loss. He sees it merely as an ordinary case, calling for the -usual nostrums. And he talks of a wounded heart as if it -were inflammation of the lungs. What does he know of the -range of feeling in a human heart?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The priest went on in the same tone as before. Ørlygur -said nothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He wants me to say something,” thought Ørlygur. “But -what am I to say? Tell him it is a fine day? I wonder if -he would go away if I did? I wish I could get rid of him -somehow; he tires me. I would rather climb a mountain -than listen to more of this. Look at Borgarfjall there, lofty -and steep. I would sooner climb it to the top than listen -to this priest for half a day.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he turned to the man, with a smile, and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look here, I’ve thought of something. Some day, when -I have time, I want to climb up to the top of Borgarfjall -there and build a bit of a monument on the top. It’s a fine-looking -mountain, but I don’t like the outline of the top. -Ought to have something there—don’t you think?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The priest stared at him, dumb with astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hardly think any but a bird could get up there,” he -said hesitatingly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, it’s certainly no place for silly sheep,” retorted -Ørlygur, with a laugh. “Good-day to you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he turned and walked away.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>The priest stood looking after him in perplexity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Now, was that intentional rudeness,” he said to himself, -“or has he lost his senses?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was some minutes before he could sufficiently regain his -priestly dignity and composure to leave the churchyard.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The men came to fill in the grave, and the mourners flocked -round to lay their wreaths on the mound that covered the -remains of Guest the One-eyed and the Danish Lady.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Among them were Ormarr and his wife Runa. Snebiorg -and her mother were also there, but there was no sign of -Ørlygur to be seen. He had met the doctor, a man whom -he liked, and was walking with him a little distance off.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and Runa went up to the widow from Bolli and -her daughter, and greeted them kindly, thanking them for -their attendance. They talked for a little of indifferent -matters, and then Ormarr said suddenly to the widow:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I should like to have a word with you alone.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Snebiorg blushed, and remained shyly standing beside -Runa, while Ormarr and her mother went off a little way. -The widow’s face revealed nothing of her feelings, but in -her heart she was keenly aware that what was coming concerned -her daughter’s happiness and her own peace of mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ørlygur seems strange today,” she thought to herself. -“I hope nothing is wrong.” And she strove to repress a -sigh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As soon as they were out of hearing of the others, Ormarr -spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I do not know if you are aware of it,” he said, “but -Ørlygur and Bagga love each other. I have only known it -myself a few days.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow nodded, and Ormarr went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I only wished to tell you that my wife and I heartily -approve of their marrying.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow’s face brightened; the wrinkles seemed smoothed -away. Unable to speak, she offered Ormarr a trembling hand. -Ormarr grasped it cordially, and then, putting his arm -through hers, they walked up and down together.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I may be frank with you,” Ormarr went on. “We have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>known each other for a long time now, and I am sure you -will not be hasty. First of all, I must tell you that Runa -and I were opposed to the idea to begin with. We should -never have attempted to stand in the way of his own wishes, -but we hoped he would give up his intention of marrying -Snebiorg. But my brother, whom we have buried today, -gave his blessing to the union, and from that moment I felt -that my own reasons for opposing it had only been poor and -of minor importance. And now that I have told you this, -I can come to what I chiefly wanted to say. Something has -happened to Ørlygur; what it is I do not know, for he has -not confided in me or in any one else. He is hardly likely to -open his heart to any one on the subject, I think. But I -have an idea as to what is passing in his mind, and I am -anxious about him. Even if he should appear to have -changed his mind with regard to Bagga, I want you to do -your utmost to encourage her and keep her faithful to him, -for I know that in his heart he loves her, and will always -do so. But there is something on his mind at present; he -is in doubt about something; more, I cannot say. You know -he comes of an impulsive race, and if he should now, while -he is young, lose control of his feelings and cease to take -a healthy interest in life, then the family will die out. It -would be a pity. I know that you have suffered, and more -than most. I also have known suffering, and I should be -proud if I could say I had borne my trials as well as you -have yours. If, therefore, your daughter inherits her -mother’s courage and strength, it would be a good thing for -the race. As yet I am not quite clear what we ought to do. -But I wished to let you know my feelings, so that I might -have you on my side. The interests of—our children, I had -nearly said—are at stake. I always regard Ørlygur as my -own son. And it will be a hard struggle, for neither of them, -certainly not Ørlygur, must ever realize that we are taking -any part.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow was calmer now. She looked earnestly at Ormarr’s -face, as if seeking to read his mind. Then she offered -her hand. It was not trembling now.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>“You can trust me,” she said. “I do not know what it -is that troubles Ørlygur, and I do not wish to know. It is -enough for me if he continues to feel as he does for Bagga. -But if he should desert her, it would kill her. And if he -kills my daughter, then, as surely as there is a God in heaven, -I will kill him!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr started violently. “Woman!” he cried, “God -forgive you!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I would not have said it—it slipped out,” she went on -apologetically. “Such words must seem strange in the -mouth of an old woman. But I could not help it. You -need have no fear of me; I shall do as you wish. You -can trust me as long as I can feel that you are acting -honestly. You are now, and I believe you will continue -so.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr smiled.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If I did not know it to be otherwise, I might think -you were my sister,” he said. Then, speaking more -seriously, he continued:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I should have preferred that you did not come back -with us to Borg today. But there are a number of others -coming, and after we have stood here talking so long it -would perhaps excite remark if you were not to come. -Anyhow, to prevent any danger to our plans, it would be -best to keep Ørlygur and Bagga from coming together, at -any rate by themselves—if it can be done quietly.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow nodded.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked back to the grave, where Runa and Snebiorg -were waiting. Several others now approached, and the -widow and her daughter were formally invited to accompany -the party home to Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Horses were then saddled, and they moved off, most of -those remaining taking the road to Borg.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Meantime, Ørlygur had left the doctor and was riding -on alone. He was deep in thought, and allowed his -horse to pick its own way at its own pace. All respected -his reserve, and he was left in peace.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor had joined the party with Ormarr. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>widow and her daughter rode immediately in front, and -Ormarr noted how the doctor’s eyes dwelt on the girl. It -appeared, from something the doctor let fall in conversation, -that he was again in need of a housekeeper.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was struck by a sudden idea, but shook his head -a moment after.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” he thought; “it would be too dangerous.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor was a widower, childless, and lived alone at -the trading station, keeping only a girl to look after the -house. And many stories were current as to the doctor -and his housekeepers. Most of them left after a short -time in the house, some of them going out of the country -altogether, after which nothing was heard of them. It -was also said that he drank in secret, and some believed -him to be out of his mind. In any case, it was not a place -for a respectable girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr was thinking hard as he rode along.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“She ought to stand the test,” he muttered to himself. -“And who knows—perhaps it might be the very thing. -A chance that might not come again....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He found a pretext for entering into conversation with -the doctor, and, slackening his pace by imperceptible -degrees, managed to fall behind with him, in rear of the -party.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was not long before he had elicited from the doctor -the confession that his latest housekeeper had indeed left -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr laughed. “You’ve had quite a number of housekeepers -these last few years.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes,” answered the other. “It is more and more difficult -to find a respectable woman, and what I am to do now, -I do not know. Do without, I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I hope it is not as bad as all that,” said Ormarr. -“The work is not so very hard, I take it, and there are -generally plenty of girls willing enough to take an easy -post. I have an idea, by the way, that the widow there -would like her daughter to go out into the world a little; if -you like, I could speak to her about it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>The doctor was profuse in his thanks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then they changed the subject, and, whipping up their -horses, rejoined the rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Later in the day Ormarr spoke to the widow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The doctor is in want of a housekeeper,” he said. -“What do you think?—would Snebiorg like to undertake -the work?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow looked at him searchingly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Bagga—housekeeper at the doctor’s?” she said harshly. -“Never! Never as long as I live!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why not?” asked Ormarr quietly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You know well enough what is said about him.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“True,” Ormarr returned. “I know his weakness where -women are concerned, but I have never heard of his ever -having gone to extremes. He is too soft and good-natured -for that—certainly, he is no rogue. I do not think there is -anything to fear. And you can, of course, rely on your -daughter herself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow was silent a moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I suppose I must do as you wish,” she said at length. -“But I shall hold you responsible if any harm comes of it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I can understand that you do not quite like the idea. -But Ørlygur is on friendly terms with the doctor, and always -looks in there whenever he goes in to the station. And -if the knowledge that the woman he loves is in the doctor’s -house, and the doctor’s own advances, do not spur him to -act on his own behalf, then the case must be worse than I -had thought. I do not think there is any risk, really.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow sighed. She did not quite like the idea of -Bagga being made use of in this fashion, and perhaps exposed -to danger. But Ormarr reassured her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“With God’s help, all will go well,” she said at last, and -gave her consent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr had no difficulty in arranging details, and it was -settled that Bagga should take over her duties in the -doctor’s house next day.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The widow and her daughter rode home that evening -in silence. Each was occupied with her own -thoughts, and would not have found it easy to -share them with the other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The horses knew their way, and, despite the darkness, -the journey was accomplished rapidly and without mishap. -The animals seemed to know that the quicker they went, -the sooner they would be able to rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Mother and daughter exchanged only a few trivial remarks -as they unsaddled and turned the horses loose. They -did not even trouble to light up, but went straight to bed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had lain in silence for some time, when Bagga’s -voice came suddenly out of the dark:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Mother, why must I leave home?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow was at a loss for an answer, and, to escape -the question, pretended to be asleep.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga fell to weeping softly. It seemed all so senseless -and cruel—why should she leave home when she had no -wish to go? Who could say if these strangers with whom -she was to live would be kind to her or not? It hurt her -to leave home at all—but her mother willed it so.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Worse than this was the thought that Ørlygur seemed -changed. There was something in his look and manner -which told her she was not the same in his eyes that she -had been when last they had met—when he had given her -the lamb. Her conscience had been uneasy on that day of -the funeral—it was the funeral of her good friend, Guest -the One-eyed; and yet she had been glad, thinking only -that she would be sure to see Ørlygur again. She had -hoped, too, that he would speak to her—perhaps even take -her hand. But he had only given her a hasty greeting, -and his handshake had been disappointing. She had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>careful herself to leave without bidding him farewell; she -could not bear to take his hand again in that strange way. -Was it because there were others present that he had been -so strange? Or had he ceased to love her? If he could -only know how she suffered, for all her brave attempts to -seem unconcerned, then surely he would at least have given -her one such look as that which had drawn them together -at the first. But perhaps it was only sorrow at his bereavement -that had made him look so unlike himself; perhaps -next time they met all would be well again. Oh, it was -wrong of her to be bitter and think the worst; God might -well punish her for that. And she had sinned in going to -the funeral with any other thought than that of mourning -the loss of Guest the One-eyed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>So Bagga argued with herself, and made up her mind at -last that if she bore her trials bravely, then God might -again be merciful and grant her again the joy of feeling -that she and Ørlygur were united in heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She ceased to weep. Her pure and innocent heart had -found consolation in her simple thoughts. All would surely -be well again. And as her mind dwelt on the remembrance -of her lover, she ceased to see him as he had been today, -and saw only Ørlygur as she had known him—the picture -she had treasured in her heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At last all conscious thought faded away; she only saw -him—saw his face, his figure; the smile that had made her -so happy, and the look in his eyes that she loved. They -went with her into dreams, and daylight found her with a -serene and happy smile. And when her mother came to -wake her, there was such quiet and innocent peace in the -girl’s face that the old woman’s anxious look changed to a -tearful smile as she whispered to herself:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Surely she can come to no harm. The Lord would -never let her suffer.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, dressing quietly, lest she should wake her, the -widow stole out to her work.</p> - -<p class='c004'>On waking, Bagga noticed at once that her mother was -already up. She got out of bed herself, and, without making -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>any attempt to dress, sat down on the bed to think. -Today she was to leave home. At first she half hoped -it was all a dream, but in a moment she realized that it was -the sad truth. And the question which had risen to her -mind the night before came to her now again: Why should -she go? Hitherto, her mother had never said anything about -her going away from home; on the contrary, she had always -felt that her mother would have been sorry to lose her. -And then to decide on this so suddenly.... There must be -some reason for it all—something they had not told her. -She was to go as housekeeper to the doctor, a man she had -never liked. From her first sight of him she had felt an instinctive -aversion to him. His looks, his friendly advances, -repelled her. But if her mother thought it best, that must -be enough. And if her mother did not wish to tell her -the reason for so thinking, there was no more to be -said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She would not ask.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Going out, she found her mother had just finished making -the coffee. They talked with some restraint; it seemed -awkward even to talk of little everyday things now. The -widow was evidently distressed herself, and Bagga was on -the verge of tears. From her manner, the mother judged -that Bagga had determined not to ask the reason of her -being sent away from home. This was as well, since it -saved her the necessity of answering awkward questions; -but, on the other hand, it puzzled her to think why her -daughter should have refrained from asking.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The few necessary preparations for the journey were -soon made, and a man came up to the house with the horse -Bagga was to ride.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was noticeable that at parting the widow carefully impressed -upon her daughter not to hesitate in telling her all -that happened—to let her know at once, if need be.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It will be lonely here when you have gone, child,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga burst into tears, but strove bravely to recover herself. -The two women embraced, and the widow walked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>beside the horse until they came to the stream. Here they -stopped, and bade each other farewell tenderly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“God be with you,” said the mother earnestly. “Trust in -Him, and keep yourself pure in soul and body. And, should -it please Him to call me to Himself, remember that there is -one beside myself who loves you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bagga blushed at her words, and warm joy filled her -heart. Then, with a parting kiss, she touched her horse and -rode across the stream.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The widow stood for some minutes waving to her. And -when Bagga turned to look once more, before passing over -the last ridge of hills that would shut out the sight of her -home, her mother stood there still, a grey, forsaken figure -on the autumn landscape. The sight went to her heart.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Ørlygur had left the churchyard with a smile on -his face after his unfriendly remark to the priest -about Borgarfjall and silly sheep. But the smile -soon vanished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was childish of me,” he reflected. “Whatever -made me say it, I wonder? And now I suppose I shall -have to scramble up there one day, and very likely break -my neck. No need to do it really, of course. But, then, -that would be rather mean again. I seem to be getting -that way of late.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he perceived the doctor standing before him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Two and two are four,” said the latter, with a gleam -of kindly mischief in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked up at him uncomprehendingly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t be offended,” said the doctor. “But really, you -know, any one could see that a man walking about with such -a scowl on his face was not sorrowing for the dead. Looks -much more as if he were busy with some mathematical problem -or other.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur tried to smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How would you like to make the ascent of Borgarfjall?” -he asked jestingly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor looked out over the valley, measuring distances -with his eye.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Shouldn’t care about it, to tell the truth,” he answered. -“But if I had to, well, I should provide myself with a bottle -of whisky, and empty it. Then, when the ground began to -move a bit, I should just wait till the part where I stood—or -lay—came uppermost, and the top of Borgarfjall under; -it would be easy enough to just give a heave and roll down -to it. Otherwise, I think I should wait till after death.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>“But you don’t believe in any life after death,” said -Ørlygur, smiling.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor’s manner changed abruptly. “I don’t know,” -he said seriously. “Don’t know what I do believe.” Then, -returning to his former mischievous tone, he went on: -“Anyhow, I fancy whisky is a freethinker. And I sometimes -feel the spirit moving me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was smiling no longer. “What is it like to get -drunk?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor looked at him searchingly, then laughed aloud.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, it makes you somewhat foolhardy as a rule,” he -said. “And light-hearted, light-headed, and all the rest of -it. Afterwards, it’s apt to be the other way—heavy, you -know, especially about the head. You’ve a charming frankness, -by the way, young man, when it comes to asking delicate -questions.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why should I not?” said Ørlygur quickly. “Would you -prefer me to pretend I didn’t know you drank?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor was somewhat taken aback. “No,” he said; -“I shouldn’t. Your straightforwardness is one of your best -qualities. You don’t care for whisky, I know. But come -over one day and get drunk on it—it will probably save -you, at any rate for some time, from any risk of going that -way yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I didn’t feel any wish to try,” said Ørlygur. “It just -occurred to me, that was all.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They walked up and down in silence, Ørlygur looking -straight before him, the doctor watching him covertly the -while.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Most likely a woman,” he thought to himself. “In -trouble of some sort, that’s clear. And—funny thing, now -I come to think of it, we’ve never heard anything about his -being taken with any one up till now. Anyhow, why he -should be troubled about anything in that line, I can’t make -out. She must be a fool who wouldn’t have him and gladly. -Hearts are a nuisance.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He murmured the last words half aloud, and sighed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur glanced at him. “What is it?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>“Eh? Only my heart, I said. It’s the whisky’s done it, -you know. And I was thinking of the time when I hadn’t -yet given it the chance to get in and spoil things.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor looked him fixedly in the eyes. Ørlygur -stopped, met his gaze, then both lowered their eyes and walked -on. After a little, the doctor spoke again, looking straight -ahead of him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’re one of the few people I ever trouble to think -of,” he said. “Because I have an idea that you’ve some -sort of friendly feeling for me. Heaven only knows why you -should. Consequently, the least I can do for you is—not -to warn you, but just to point out to you the rocks that upset -my little voyage; then you can go round or steer headlong -into them, just as you please.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He changed suddenly to a lighter tone. “I’m no hand -at serious talk. And you’re looking just now as if you’d -just entered Holy orders. I think I’ll go and find some one -more amusing to talk to.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He offered his hand, and the grip he gave belied his words. -Ørlygur understood that the other had gone in order to leave -him to himself. And he was grateful.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a while he walked about by himself. Then, noticing -that the others were saddling up, he found his horse, and -rode with the party, but in silence, keeping to himself. He -noticed the priest among the party, and fancied he marked -an unfriendly look in his face. But it did not trouble him. -On reaching home, he let his horse go loose, and wandered -about by himself, leaving Ormarr and Runa to entertain -their guests.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All that afternoon he wandered restlessly about, either -keeping to himself or going from group to group, exchanging -brief remarks occasionally with some, answering others with -a word or so, often without being properly aware of -what had been said. All saw that he was troubled and -distrait.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He saw that Bagga was among the guests, but she was -not alone, and he made no attempt to speak to her. And -yet, time and again when he lost sight of her for a moment, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>he could not rest till he had found her again. It was a -consolation to look at her, to see that she was there.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the widow and her daughter rode away, Ørlygur -took care to be at hand when the horses were saddled. He -hoped Bagga would come up and speak to him. But she -pretended not to notice him, though he was sure she must -have seen him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At that, his misery overcame him, and he went to bed -without saying good-night to any one. But he could not -sleep. He heard the others come up to bed, and could hear -their regular breathing through the thin partition between the -rooms. The idea of sleep irritated him. What was sleep?—a -giving up of the mind to nothingness. A thing unworthy -of human beings. Surely it was the outcome of indifference, -idleness, an evil habit that had grown through generations—a -kind of hereditary vice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He lay long restless, letting his thoughts come and go.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then he became aware of a strange sound somewhere in the -house. Music—somewhere a melody seemed filtering through -the air, calling his thoughts back from their wanderings.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It must be Ormarr playing. Ørlygur dressed softly and -stole out of the room. As he neared the door of the room -where he had watched the night before with the dead, the -sound grew clearer—it was there Ormarr had chosen to play.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stood still and listened.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He did not know the melody, but its indescribable softness -and melancholy soothed his mind. If Ormarr were playing -for his own consolation, he was also comforting another and -bringing peace to a troubled heart. Ørlygur listened, letting -the music work upon his mind. And gradually he forgot -himself entirely; that which had been himself disappeared, -and there was something else—there was life, a precious thing. -It was worth living for, only to feel this enthralment of the -moment; to realize this harmonious blending of joy and sorrow, -of life and death blending, as it were, into a golden mist, -and melting into eternity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The last notes died away. Ørlygur crept back to his room, -and slept.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>When Ørlygur awoke next morning he felt ill at -ease. The sense of mental balance he had gained -from the music of the night before seemed far -off, and he had difficulty in recalling it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But at the same time the feeling of utter despair that he -had felt, especially after his vain attempt to speak at the -graveside, had left him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Strange,” he murmured. “But the promise—it seems -now as if it no longer existed, after I failed to utter it then.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And he smiled bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Was I really so weak?” he thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He dressed and went out. The sky was overcast, and the -landscape, now deprived of the brightness of the sun, looked -dead and gloomy, as if waiting only for the white wrappings -of the snow to sink into the long frozen sleep of winter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the first time, Ørlygur felt the approach of winter as -something threatening and to be feared. And involuntarily -his thoughts turned to the spring that lay beyond. His -heart beat fast as he pictured to himself the joy that comes -with spring—the joy of seeing green things spring up out of -the earth, the poor little blossoms of the rocky hills, the flight -of white and many-coloured butterflies, the light nights, and -the clear, smooth water of lakes set free from their murky -covering of ice. He longed for the spring to come, and -longed to share his joy in it with another.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His love for Bagga welled up in him like a spring torrent -triumphant over the grip of winter, carrying all before it. It -was this feeling which had been slumbering beneath his -faint-hearted thoughts, and now it rose and swept all else -from his mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Why did I not speak to her yesterday?” he asked himself, -in bitter self-reproach. “Why did I not go to her when she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>stood there weeping by the grave? What madness was it -that made me greet her as if she had been a stranger? And -she saw it—saw I was changed, and that was why she would -not bid me farewell. If only I have not hurt her beyond -healing! How can I ever explain—how can I tell her of this -mysterious power that has overwhelmed me until now? She -would not understand it all—and if I do not tell her all, she -will see that I am keeping something back. It may be that -I have ruined everything—that she can never love me now. -How could I ever dream of carrying on my father’s work? -It was an impulse sent from hell, and changeable and weak -as I am, I let it take possession of me. I, who am so little -able to control myself that I answered with boyish rudeness -when the priest spoke to me—he meant well enough, no -doubt. I can see myself that I am but a fool—how much -more a fool should I appear to others if I were to go out -attempting to teach others the way to peace.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again his thoughts turned to Bagga. He was filled with -a sudden desire to go and see her, now, at once. Yet he did -not move. Something seemed to hold him back.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He hated himself for his irresolution and want of firmness. -But there was something he felt he must do before he sought -her; what it was, he knew not.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His gaze wandered, as if seeking a solution. And suddenly -his eyes rested on Borgarfjall.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That was it!” he said to himself. “I told the priest.... -But it was only in jest....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stood thinking.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Perhaps the priest will remind me of it some day. Or -tell others—and I shall be looked on as a braggart. I could -never bear it. Bagga might try to stop me if I made the -attempt, but if she heard I had vowed to do it and drawn -back she would never think the same of me again. It would -pain her; she would feel ashamed. And that must never be.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He decided to act at once. He would climb Borgarfjall -the next day. And the idea of danger crossed his mind; -perhaps he would never see her again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the mere possibility of this was unendurable—never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>to see her again. It was too dreadful to be a possibility at -all. No; it could not be but that he would come back safely -to her after all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And the more he thought, the more he felt certain of -success. Here at last was something real to grapple with, -something material, and he felt more confident in himself. -No more fighting in the dark against thoughts and fancies, -but a trial of physical strength and endurance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>That it was but a caricature of his former lofty project -never once occurred to him—he would hardly have understood -it in that light. His nature was one that craved real -hardships to encounter; he was not of the stuff to fight with -figments of the brain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He would do it. He would start tomorrow. And, meanwhile, -how was he to pass the rest of today?</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly he thought of the doctor. A talk with him would -be good medicine to shake off idle fancies. Yes, he would -ride over and see the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And this time he saddled his horse without a trace of -hesitation, and rode off to the trading station.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>The doctor was in unusually good spirits when -Ørlygur arrived.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had good reason to be pleased with himself; -not only had he found a housekeeper in place of the last, -who had left him without notice, but he had found the most -beautiful girl in the parish to succeed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And if ever there was a man who knew how to appreciate -good looks in his housekeeper, it was Jon Hallsson, the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was unaware of the direct cause of his friend’s -good humour, and when the doctor invited him to stay and -sample the new housekeeper’s cooking, he accepted without -ever dreaming—and without asking—who the new housekeeper -might be. The doctor was always changing his folk, -and Ørlygur was not interested in the subject.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you’ve come to try my whisky, why, you couldn’t -have chosen a better time,” said the doctor gaily. “I’m -just in the humour for a bout today—after dinner, that is.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have given up the whisky idea,” he said, with a laugh. -“Not only because I don’t really care for it, but it throws -one off one’s balance too easily. No; I have found something -else.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh? And what may that be?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Mountaineering.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor laughed. “I prefer the whisky,” he said. “It -elevates the mind without moving the body, and the fall is -thus less painful.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No need to fall at all,” suggested Ørlygur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you are still thinking of going up Borgarfjall, I should -say there’s every chance of it,” returned the other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am,” said Ørlygur. “I am going up tomorrow, to build -that cairn.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>The doctor looked at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Surely you are not serious?” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Indeed, I am,” answered Ørlygur. And with a smile he -added: “I want to get up and look about a little—see something -of the world.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If only you don’t find yourself seeing something of -another world—one that your friend the priest seems to know -such a lot about.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>In vain the doctor pointed out the difficulties and dangers -of the project. Ørlygur was accustomed to mountain-climbing, -and was obstinate. He must and would make the ascent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Must,” repeated the doctor. “What nonsense!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It is simply this—if I don’t do it, I shall have made a -fool of myself in the eyes of that priest. I don’t know how -you would like that as an alternative.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, if that’s the case, I’ve nothing more to say. I’d -rather drink off a bottle of sulphuric acid at once than let that -fool crow over me.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, that’s enough,” said Ørlygur. “Let’s talk -of something else. I came over this evening because I wanted -livening up a little.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Very nice of you, I’m sure, to credit me with any ability -that way. Suppose we try something to eat for a start.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They went into the dining-room and sat down. A moment -later the door from the kitchen was opened, and Snebiorg -entered with a soup tureen on a tray. At sight of Ørlygur -she stopped, and hesitated. Then she looked down and -blushed, but came forward and set down the soup on the table. -Ørlygur had risen, but said nothing. All the merriment -had vanished from his face, leaving him serious and astonished. -The doctor was looking at the girl, and did not perceive -the change which had come over his guest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My new housekeeper,” he said, still without looking at -Ørlygur. “A beauty, isn’t she? And if my nose doesn’t -deceive me, she knows how to cook.” And he stroked her -arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How dare you touch me!” cried the girl, and, flushing -more hotly than before, she left the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>“Ah, a bit stand-offish, it seems,” said the doctor complacently. -“But none the worse for that.” And he turned -towards his guest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He caught but one glimpse of Ørlygur’s furious face; -next moment a violent blow under the jaw sent him headlong -to the floor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He rose slowly, staring in profound astonishment, felt -himself as if to ascertain what damage had been done, and -then appeared perfectly calm once more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Good thing I was sitting down,” he said, with a touch -of humour. “Not so far to fall, anyway. Handy with your -fists, young man, I must say. Well, no reason to let the soup -get cold. So you’re taken with her, too—why, so much the -better, then we’re agreed. And seeing we’ve no difference -of opinion on that head, I can’t see why you find it necessary -to knock me down. I’m not a fighting man myself—very -nice to watch, of course, when you’re not in it yourself, -but otherwise.... Why couldn’t you tell me how matters -stood? Your girl, not to be touched, and so on. Much nicer, -you know, between friends, than landing out suddenly like -that. Anyhow, I don’t mind admitting that the—er—hint -was direct enough. Enough for me, at any rate. Peaceable -character, you know, and not as young as I used to be. I’m -not particularly scrupulous as to rights of property in that -sort of goods generally, but seeing it’s you, and we’re friends -in a way—no more to be said. And since you’re determined -on breaking your neck tomorrow, I daresay you’ll forgive -me for hoping you may succeed. If I were in your place, -I’d let a dozen priests think and say what they pleased, as -long as I kept the girl, rather than go ramping off trying to -cut out eagles and all the fowls of the air by clambering -up to places never meant to be reached without wings—unless -she asked you to, of course. If she asked me, I’d do it ten -times over and reckon it cheap at that. I suppose it’s a -secret, though, or your respected foster-father would hardly -have arranged for his daughter-in-law to come here as housekeeper. -Her mother wouldn’t have let her, I know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>“Snebiorg and I are engaged,” answered Ørlygur calmly. -“It is a secret, that is true, known only to ourselves, and -now, of course, to you....” Ørlygur was surprised to find -himself lying with such ease. “But I hope you will keep -it to yourself now you do know.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My dear fellow”—the doctor stroked his chin reflectively—“<em>you</em>’ve -no call to be anxious—not in the least. I’m not -likely to gossip about a thing like that. But, Lord, if you -knew how sincerely I hope you may break your neck tomorrow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I shan’t bear you any grudge for that,” answered -Ørlygur, in the same light tone. “But I’m very much afraid -you’ll be disappointed. I never felt fitter in my life.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve no doubt as to your fitness,” answered the doctor, -“after the practical illustration you gave me just now. But -as to getting up there—as long as there’s no sign of wings -sprouting out from your shoulder-blades, I would suggest -that you’re a fool to try it, all the same.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, well, it’s your own affair.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had finished dinner, and as they rose from the table, -Ørlygur, according to custom, offered his hand to his host. -The doctor grasped it heartily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Excuse me a moment,” he said, and went out into the -kitchen, closing the door behind him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Snebiorg was in the kitchen; she had not appeared in the -dining-room after the soup.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I want to ask your pardon,” he said frankly. “I promise -you it shall not occur again. Until this moment I had no -idea that you were a friend of Ørlygur à Borg. He is a -good friend of mine, and I hope you also will regard me as -a friend.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Snebiorg looked at him at first with some distrust; she -had never liked the man. But there was a certain shyness -in his manner now, and a kindly tenderness in his eyes, -altogether different from his former attitude towards her. -And she could not but feel he was sincere.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>She made no answer, but he noticed the altered look in -her face, and, greatly relieved, he went back to Ørlygur and -led him to the sitting-room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve been out to beg pardon,” he said, offering a box -of cigars. “She’ll be as safe here with me now as with her -mother. And if you think it’s only because you knocked -me down just now, you’re wrong.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked at him doubtfully.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I know what you’re thinking of,” the doctor went on. -“My promise wouldn’t count for much when I’ve been drinking, -eh? But there’s just a bit of my heart that the whisky -hasn’t altogether spoiled as yet.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He glanced up at a large picture of his dead wife on the -wall. There were other portraits of her about the room. -And his eyes were moist.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was moved, and held out his hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then the whisky was brought out, but Ørlygur declined; -the doctor poured out a glass for himself. They sat for a -while in silence, each busy with his own thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur could not get over his astonishment at meeting -Snebiorg in the doctor’s house, and in particular at the news -that it was Ormarr who had arranged for her to come. It -troubled him, also, that her mother had been willing to let -her come at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Suddenly an idea occurred to him—here, perhaps, was the -solution of it all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Trying to make me jealous—that must be it. And not -a bad idea. If I had any doubt in my own mind before, this -has certainly made an end.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He glanced at his host, wondering whether he, too, was -in the plot. The doctor seemed to perceive that he was being -scrutinized.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ørlygur,” he said, in a strangely quiet voice, “I wonder -what ever made you care about me at all? I’ve had a feeling -ever since I’ve known you that you had a sort of liking for -me. But, how you ever could, I can’t imagine.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked at him a moment, and then glanced away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If you want to know,” he said, “it’s not for any one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>reason in particular, but several. To begin with, you’re -alway the same to rich and poor.... Indeed, I’ve heard -that you often treat poor people for nothing, and give them -medicines into the bargain.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“That’s nothing,” said the doctor, waving his hand -carelessly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And, then, you stay in a poor place like this, instead of -finding somewhere where you could make a better position.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Mere selfishness on my part,” said the doctor. “My -wife lived here; it was here I met her—here we lived for -the one short year we had together.... Yes, I daresay it -may seem almost blasphemous for me to talk like that, seeing -what every one knows about my life generally. But it’s true, -all the same. That’s why I stay on here.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur sat looking straight before him. “It’s just those -trifles—and that one thing you call selfishness that made me -like you,” he said softly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Both were silent. Then the doctor reached out for his -glass, and emptied it. And, without appearing to address -Ørlygur directly, he went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sitting here by myself, I often think how queerly fate -weaves her threads. Something’s happening every moment—things -happening that matter to some one or other. Only, -I’m outside it all; just sit here and look on. Like the carcase -of a fly that the spider Life has left hung up in a corner -of the web.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He poured out a fresh glass, and laughed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sit here drinking whisky and never move. Never get -any farther. I won’t say my life’s been worse than many -others in the way of troubles. I may feel so at times, but -it’s just weakness on my part. Here I have a comfortable -room to sit in, an arm-chair, and something to drink. And -there’s many that are out in the cold. Possibly I may be -as lonely and unhappy as they. But at least I can live in -something like material comfort. I’m not starving, for instance. -Altogether, I must be a poor sort of fellow not to -be more content than I am, and go steady, instead of sinking -deeper and deeper into drink. Sometimes I’ve thought of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>committing suicide. But when I go over the pros and cons, -it seems better to go on living. I don’t expect death to -bring me anything better. And I suppose I’m doing a certain -amount of good while I’m alive. Though, on the other hand, -I do some harm. Heaven knows why—my nature, I -suppose.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looked up suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Getting dark,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Twilight had fallen; already it was hard to distinguish -objects in the room. The two men saw each other’s faces -only as pale spots in the dark. The doctor rose to light the -lamp.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur rose also.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t trouble. I’m going home now,” he said. “I shall -have to be up early tomorrow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor followed him out to his horse, that was loose -in the enclosure. Ørlygur saddled up, and took his leave; -there was a curious, thoughtful expression on his face. A -moment after, he dismounted again, and, handing the reins -to the doctor, who was waiting to see him ride off, he went -into the kitchen, where a light was burning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He closed the door after him as he entered, and looked -into Bagga’s eyes, that were red and swollen with tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How did you come here?” he asked in a low voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know,” answered Bagga calmly. “Mother said -I was to come. And I would not disobey her.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have told the doctor we are engaged,” he said, in the -same low tones.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She nodded, as if agreeing it was the natural thing to do.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then Ørlygur’s heart was filled with an endless joy, and -a proud yet gentle smile lit his face. He opened his arms -and drew her to him. For a moment they stood there, held -close in each other’s arms. Then Ørlygur looked into her -eyes and said:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I am going up to the top of Borgarfjall, to build a cairn -there. And then I shall come and fetch you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>She nodded again, with the same expression of quiet understanding. -Then their lips met in a long kiss. Ørlygur felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>his head grow dizzy, and it was not till he found himself -galloping away on his horse that he recovered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“If I fail tomorrow,” he thought to himself, “I am a -scoundrel. But I must build that cairn.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>And after a while he murmured half aloud, with an air -almost of disappointment:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“She didn’t seem in the least impressed—took it as if it -were nothing at all.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER X</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Jon Hallsson was standing deep in thought when -Ørlygur dashed out of the kitchen, snatched the reins -out of his hands, and galloped off without a word or -look in farewell.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“He’s in a hurry to go off and break his neck,” he thought, -and added: “I wonder he doesn’t give up that mad idea. -With a girl like that....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then he went indoors, hoping that he might remain undisturbed -that night.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Jon Hallsson had settled down to drink in the evening, -he did not like to be called out. But his drinking had -never interfered with his work; some people even went so far -as to say that they would rather have him slightly drunk than -perfectly sober. Strangely enough, despite his weakness in -respect of drink and women, he had never lost the respect -of those about him. He was a clever doctor, and kind to the -poor; he talked straight out, like a man—at times a little -too much so. And so people liked him. After all, it was no -concern of theirs how he lived or what he made of his life. -There was only one man who detested him, and that was the -priest. But the latter was not so popular among his flock -that he could venture to give vent to his feelings beyond an -occasional remark.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jon Hallsson was from another part of the country, but -had held his present post for fifteen years. When he had -first come to the place, he had been unmarried, and the district -at Hofsfjordur was regarded as merely a stepping-stone -to a better. He was looked on by his colleagues as a man -who would certainly rise in his profession.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Shortly after his arrival, he had married a beautiful young -girl, the daughter of a farmer in the neighbourhood. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>died in childbirth within the year, and the child immediately -after.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The blow had crushed him utterly, leaving only a shadow -of his former self. He filled the house with pictures of his -dead wife, and dwelt on them, clinging to memories as a -stricken bird to its nest. But his physical cravings would -not be denied. And he was not strong enough to master -them. Little by little he gave way, and though at times -he realized that he was sinking, he had not power to check -himself. Other young men in his profession rose beyond him, -while he grew more and more hopeless of ever advancing at -all. He was like a pebble in the river of life; once it had -come to a stop, the stream flowed over and past it, wearing -away every projecting corner that could give a hold, until -gradually it became surrounded by other stones, and the -way for further progress was blocked and it sank down to -insignificance in the lowest of the mass.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jon Hallsson lit the lamp and sat down to drink. He -could hear Snebiorg busy in the dining-room, and in a little -while she came in to tell him that his tea was ready.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks,” he said, and did not move. As she went to the -door, he added: “You need not wait to clear away the -things. Go to bed when you like. Good-night.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>For a long time he sat in silence. Then, as was his way -when he had been drinking for some time, he began talking -to himself. It was as if the silence became unendurable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Nonni,” he said, using the pet name by which his wife -had always called him—“Nonni, my boy, it’s time for bed. -Getting late, and the lamp will want filling soon. And you -don’t like sitting in the dark, do you? And the oil’s down -in the cellar, and you’d go headlong to the bottom if you tried -them. Much as you can do to stand on your legs now. But -there’s a candle....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He emptied his glass and filled it again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My friend, you drink like a fish. Drink a lot too much. -No earthly need for that last glass. Too much whisky ’s -a bad thing anyway. And there’s no need to empty the -bottle each time. There’s a deal left now, but if I’m not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>mistaken you’ll finish it before you turn in tonight. And -then, my boy, you will be drunk. And do all sorts of mad -things. But kindly remember—the door where that girl -sleeps is not to be touched. Not even touch the handle. No.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He rose with difficulty and took down a large photograph -of his wife.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Best to do it now,” he said. “While you’ve some sense -left. There’s a hammer in the surgery.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He stumbled out of the room, and nailed up the picture of -his wife on the door at the foot of the stairs that led to -Snebiorg’s room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Ragna,” he said, “keep guard over that door for me, -will you? You know what I am when I’ve had too much. -Do all sorts of mad things. But mustn’t go up there. Not -up there—no. You guard the door, Ragna. Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then he stumbled back to his arm-chair and his glass.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There you are, my boy; now you can carry on for a bit. -Couldn’t get to sleep now anyhow. Not eleven yet. And -there’s lots of things to think of yet.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He took a long drink and laughed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Fount of youth—serves up the same old thoughts as if -they were new. Night after night—chewing the cud of old -thoughts. Nonni, my boy, you’re a ruminating animal. Sad, -isn’t it? Well, what does it matter? Heaps of people do -the same. Chew the cud of their sorrows and joys, and their -trifles, and their love—yes, ha ha, love, of course. Nice word -for something else.... There, now you’re being a beast. -And if you are, you needn’t make out all the world’s the -same. You knew something about love yourself, once ... -blubbering, Nonni—whisky going to your eyes, what? Dry -up, do; it won’t make things any better. Can’t stand one -bottle—you’re getting out of form. Well, well, here’s the -last glass for tonight. Not too much soda this time—stiff one -to make you sleep. Only think, if one could drop off to sleep -and out of it all. Well, well, that’ll come too before long, -never fear. Nuisance that you can’t take a light with you -when you go. Nasty to wake up in the dark when you’re -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>dead. What nonsense—you don’t wake up when you’re dead.... -Anyhow, it’s nothing to be afraid of, Nonni, my boy. -Well, off we go—walk steady, now. Those stairs ... but -we weren’t going up those stairs.... And why not, I should -like to know? Fine girl there waiting ... and the other -young fool, he’ll break his neck ... finest girl I’ve set eyes -on for many a long day.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He staggered from the room, and out to the staircase door, -where his wife’s picture hung.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What the—good Lord, it’s Ragna! I’m sorry, Ragna—first -time you’ve.... Oh, I remember now. Well, well, -there’s no going that way. No, I shouldn’t have ... no.... -Good-night, Ragna.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned towards his own room next to the surgery. -“That’s right, Nonni, boy—that’s the way. Leave the girl -alone. Heart? Never mind your heart—nothing to do with -the heart really, you know. Not that sort of thing.... -This way, boy. That’s right.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went into his own room, and stumbled into bed. For -a long time he lay awake, muttering to himself. At last, -when the candle had burnt down and the room was in darkness, -he gradually lapsed into sleep.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>It was still dark next morning when Ørlygur rose, dressed, -and silently stole out from the house. He took with -him a thirty-foot rope that he had procured the day -before, and some food. Then, taking the well-known path -up to the mountains, he set off through the darkness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His dog went with him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur was perfectly calm, without a thought for the -perilous nature of his undertaking. He was thinking that -he would first have to reach the highest ledge, and get a -proper view of the peak, before he could see how to manage -the rest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All he had to do for the present was to husband his strength -both physically and mentally, so as to have plenty in reserve -for the final and most difficult part. He was a good walker; -if only he kept his wind and did not strain himself, he would -be fit enough after a short rest for the last climb to the -summit.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He walked on steadily, and by daybreak he had reached -the third ridge. He told himself that he had been going -quite slowly; a child could have walked as far in the time. -He could safely try a little faster now, and get as far as -possible in the cool of the morning. Without hastening his -step, he lengthened his stride a little. As he ascended, the -ridges came closer and closer in succession, and he had -reached the seventh when he felt the first rays of the sun. -For a moment he rested, watching the sunrise. Only three -more ridges now, and he would be at the base of the peak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He glanced at the village below. Here and there he could -distinguish people afoot; tiny figures they seemed, viewed -from where he stood. The valley was still in shadow, and -all its colours, except that of the ruddy heather, seemed -dull and vague. Even the surface of the water was grey, -in places almost leaden in hue.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>He waited only a little while and then resumed his steady -climb. At length the stone buttress of the peak rose directly -before him, standing up sheer in places, at others with a -slight slope.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He walked along the foot. It was no easy ascent, that -was clear. The vertical rifts in the massive rock offered no -pathway up, and the horizontal clefts and ledges were far -apart, with a distance of some ten to twenty feet between.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After some time spent in examining the face of the rock -he was still as far as ever from perceiving any practicable -way. He came to a standstill, with his eyes fixed vacantly -on the rock before him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Anyhow, it has to be done,” he muttered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, pulling himself together, he shook off the feeling of -despair that was threatening. He found a sunny spot where -there was a clear trickle of water, and lay down in the -heather.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“First something to eat, then a rest, and then another -look round,” he thought to himself. “I can surely find -a way up there somehow.” And, taking out the food he -had brought with him, he began to eat.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was perfectly calm. They would not be anxious about -him at home, even if he were not back till late at night. He -had stated beforehand that he believed some sheep had strayed -far up on to the topmost plateau, and must look for them; -all knew that it would be a lengthy business to get a couple -of obstinate sheep down from the top of the mountain, so -they would not expect him back early.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He ate his food without haste, and then lay resting for -half an hour, thinking of anything but the business in hand. -Then, perceiving that he was beginning to feel drowsy, he -sprang up resolutely and walked briskly round the face of -the rock.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You and I have a little matter to settle between us,” he -said gaily, nodding up at the wall of stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He found he could walk round on three sides; the fourth, -that towards the northward, was too steep, and the loose -sand there rendered it still more difficult to find any foothold. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>To try there would mean going down rather than up. -The rock here sloped down from the top of the peak to about -half-way down the side; Ørlygur had thought of coming down -that way, but he realized that in places the angle was too -abrupt; he would inevitably lose his footing and go crashing -down. It was this which had led him to take a rope, thinking -it might be of some assistance here. Twice he walked -round the three sides of the rock. But there was no cleft -anywhere that went right to the top. Already he felt his -courage failing, and, fearing to lose it altogether, he boldly -commenced climbing up the cleft which seemed to lead -farthest up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Before starting, however, he coiled the rope round him -so as to be easily got at if required. Then he began scrambling -up the narrow cleft. It was a difficult path, at times -the cleft seemed to vanish altogether; in other places it -widened out so that it was impossible to keep his footing on -both sides at once.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The dog, finding it could no longer follow, began howling -pitifully. Ørlygur scolded the animal impatiently, but only -succeeded in making matters worse; the dog ran backwards -and forwards along the base, trying to find some way up. -But all its efforts were in vain, and at last it returned to the -bottom of the cleft up which Ørlygur had started, and lay -there, nose in air, and howling miserably, only desisting now -and again to look up at its master with sorrowful eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur made but slow progress in the ascent. Still, it -was better than he had thought. But more than once, after -passing some particularly awkward spot, he reflected that he -would never be able to get down without the aid of the rope.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was unwilling to think of what he would do if the -cleft now suddenly came to an end; the thought occurred -to him constantly, but he thrust it aside, and went on -steadily. But he knew it could not be for long.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Where the cleft was more than usually narrow, he set -his back against one side, and hands and feet against the -other, carefully hoisting himself up and making sure of -his hold with one foot and hand before moving the other. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>Where it was wider, or almost disappeared, he clung -tightly to the side, testing the rocky points that jutted out -before trusting his weight to them. At times he had but -just time to get a grip with his hands, when his foothold -gave way. Then, clinging tightly with his fingers, he had -to feel about with his feet for a rest before shifting his grip. -Inch by inch, by the exercise of all his strength and all his -will, he climbed on, until at last he reached a ledge that -allowed him a much-needed rest. He looked down at the -way he had come, but the sight made him dizzy, and he -hastily averted his eyes. It seemed incredible that he should -have come up there; from where he was, the rock seemed -to fall away inwards beneath him. He determined not to -look back again; he felt that if he did so he would never reach -the top. He turned instead to a scrutiny of the way before -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A cold sweat broke out on him as he realized that the cleft -he had been climbing ran but some ten or twelve feet more, -making perhaps a sixth part of the height.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But the ledge, he remembered, continued to the left, in -a series of jutting crags, until it reached another vertical -cleft running right to the top. One thing was clear: it -would be impossible to pass along the ledge with the rope -coiled round his body; the path was far too narrow, and -if the rope should catch on any projecting point he would -be thrown off his balance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Another thing was borne in upon him now—that to think -overmuch about the task before him was more dangerous -than all else. Without more ado, he loosened the rope and -let one end fall, fastening the other carefully to the rock on -which he was seated.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Where it was possible to get along the ledge, it would -surely be possible to come back the same way, he thought. -It was only in the actual descent that the difficulties were -greater. And if he came to any point that was absolutely -impassable, he could always give it up and return—“Perhaps,” -he added, with emphasis.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Little by little he made his way along the ledge, depending -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>at times upon the grip of his hands alone, with his body -entirely unsupported. First a firm grip with the one hand -and then a careful search with the other for a fresh hold. -All his thoughts were concentrated upon his hands and -their hold. When at length he had reached the flat rock -that he had been making for, he found himself exhausted -for the moment. He closed his eyes, and allowed his whole -body to relax for a brief respite.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It gave him some relief; when he opened his eyes again, -he felt as if he had slept. Once more he recommenced -his perilous way, creeping carefully and with every nerve -strained, to the next projecting rock. This brought him to -the commencement of the upward cleft he had in mind. -The first part was an easy slope, and could be managed -well enough; higher up, however, it grew steeper. Ørlygur -realized that, even if he succeeded in getting up, it would -be almost impossible to get down again. For a moment -he considered whether it would not be better after all to -go back for the rope, but he gave up the idea at once. The -passage along the ledge was one he felt he had not strength -now to repeat. And with the rope round his body it would -mean almost certain disaster to attempt it. Losing no time -in further reflection, he started up the cleft.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At first all went well. Then came a stretch of smooth rock -rising straight up on either side. The slightest false move -here would be fatal, and there were some ten or twelve feet -of it to be covered. How he managed it, he never quite knew, -and from this point onwards he moved unconsciously, knowing -nothing of his own progress until he found himself -lying, exhausted and breathless, at the summit. His clothes -were torn, his hands bleeding and bruised, and there was a -cut on one knee. The keen mountain air refreshed him, -and he lay quietly drinking it in before rising to his feet. -He remembered now how he had been on the point of slipping -at that last stretch of smooth rock, and, nerved by fear, had -made a superhuman effort. It had been muscle acting without -brain, for his mind had been a blank at the time. But -it was done now. After that terrible moment, the last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>part of the way had been easier, and he had not stopped to -think.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After resting for a little, he went to the edge and peered -over. Now that he was here, he felt no sensation of dizziness -as when he had looked down before. But it was evident -beyond doubt that it would be certain death to attempt -to descend by the way he had come.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Still, here he was. And down he must get somehow.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He was terribly thirsty, and looked around for water. -After some searching he found a tiny spring, clear and -cold as ice. A little moss grew round about it, in beautifully -varying shades of green. He lay down and drank, -rested and drank again, till his thirst was quenched and he -felt himself refreshed. Then he rose.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And now for that monument!” he cried gaily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had only his bare hands to work with, and they were -bruised and sore, but there was no lack of material at hand; -rocks of all sorts and sizes lay strewn about. He chose, -first of all, a big flat stone as a foundation, looking first to -see that its position was such as to render the cairn visible -from the valley below, and set to work building up carefully -with suitable pieces. After a couple of hours’ work, the -thing was done—a compact pile of stone, tapering from a -broad base evenly towards the top. On this he placed a -large flat stone spreading out like the brim of a hat, and -above it a smaller one again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When the work was finished, he patted the stone with his -hand, and laughed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There you are,” he said. “Now, see and stay there as -long as you can, for I doubt if any one will come to set you -up again if you fall.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Then, putting on his jacket, which he had laid aside for -the work, he commenced to walk round the little platform -which formed the summit of the peak. On three sides the -rock fell away sheer; on the fourth was a steep slope of -loose sand mixed with a soft kind of rock. Here and there -were hard projections of lava and stone. To miss one’s -foothold there would mean rolling down, with the first stop -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>some eight hundred feet below. And, likely as not, the -rolling would develop into a series of bouncing leaps, breaking -every bone in one’s body.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur noted half-absently that it was no use trying to -get down on this side. Then he sat down and gazed out -over the valley below. The land merged into the horizon -on all sides save the north-east, where the sea showed a -leaden-grey surface, broken in places by white-topped breakers. -To the south were snow-capped hills, that seemed -more like part of the sky than earth, their glittering surface -seeming out of keeping with the dark hues of the -lower land. A bank of fog came gliding in from the sea, -clear of the bottom of the valley and not touching the mountain -heights, making a weird effect. Ørlygur found himself -suddenly looking down from clear air into a sea of -fog two hundred feet below, that hid the valley from view. -He looked down the mountain-side. It seemed far less -formidable now that the fog obscured the greater part. -And he rose with a sudden impulse to try the descent now -while it was less dangerous.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“How stupid,” he said to himself a moment later. “Of -course, it is dangerous as ever. Still, I must try it. No -use trying to go down the way I came up; it would be no -better than jumping off the edge. The sandy slope on the -other side is my only chance; I must try to get off it as soon -as I can find a ledge, and take my chance of slipping before -I strike one.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He took off his shoes and stockings, and removed his coat. -At first he thought of throwing them over on the side where -he had come up, but on second thoughts he refrained. To -look over there now might make him nervous. He left his -things lying where they were.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The stones will be rough, with bare feet,” he reflected. -“But if I get back safely....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Carefully he surveyed the slope, and marked out his path. -Then, lying flat down, he thrust his feet over the edge. -For a fraction of a second he paused, and then the struggle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>commenced. To seek for secure foothold was hopeless; the -only thing was to make the most of such resistance as -the stones offered, and prevent himself from going down too -fast. His eyes could only see where to place his hand; his -feet must be left to feel their way. Every movement had -to be made swiftly, and yet with the utmost care, and, -above all, without losing coolness and self-control.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The actual distance to the first ledge was not great; it -was not more than five minutes from starting when he -glanced to the side and found himself level with it. But -it seemed like ages. A little below him, and slightly to one -side, a point of lava jutted out. Possibly it might be loose -and give way at a touch; anyhow, it was all that offered, -and there was no time to waste. Already he could fancy -himself gliding past the ledge, and then....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Before he could recall his mind from this dangerous -channel, his body had done all that was needed; he found -himself grasping what proved to be the point of a large -rock. Feeling it would hold, he drew himself up and -threw one arm round it. This steadied him, and gave him -a chance to rest. A few feet to one side was the ledge and -safety. But to reach it across the few intervening feet of -loose ground seemed an impossibility. If he slipped but -an inch or two beyond, it would be hopeless to try and work -up again; he would go sliding down with but little chance -of stopping himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Just then he heard his dog barking, but paid little heed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No, there was nothing for it now but to make the attempt. -But there seemed little hope of success.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The danger in no way unnerved him; on the contrary, the -confronting of actual difficulty seemed to allure him. He -would try—and then....</p> - -<p class='c004'>He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer. It was the -first time he had done so throughout the undertaking. But -the imminent peril of death compelled him, and his lips -stammered out the old words. It was the age-old acknowledgment -of the powers above—a tribute to darkness and the unknown. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>He uttered the words earnestly, but it was none -the less something of a formality. He was prepared to die; -it was only to loosen the last tie that bound him....</p> - -<p class='c004'>Before his prayer was ended, he was recalled to the present -in startling wise.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Hullo, there you are! Hung up nicely, by the look of -you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur opened his eyes in astonishment. Jon Hallsson -was there, on the ledge, in his shirt-sleeves, carrying a bag -in his hand. The sweat poured down his face, which was -flushed with unwonted exertion; he was so exhausted that -he could hardly speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Looks as though the best thing I can do’s to go down -again, and wait for you at the bottom of your beastly mountain. -Though I’m not likely to be much use to you when -you get there. Wish you were safely over here, don’t -you? Well, so do I, but how to get you there’s another -thing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’ve come in the nick of time,” cried Ørlygur merrily. -All thought of death or danger seemed to have vanished. -“But how did you find your way up?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’ve been keeping an eye on the place—ever since this -morning, watching through a telescope. First time I spied -something moving on the top, I thought it must be an -eagle. I hoped all along you’d have more sense. But when -I saw the eagle building castles—sacrificial altars—on the -topmost heights of pig-headed obstinacy, I took it that by -some miracle or other you’d got here after all. So I packed -up some tools and bandages and things, and came out to -deal with a fine crop of fractures. But there’s neither god -nor devil would persuade me to come crawling out to where -you are now.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t want you to, I’m sure. Does any one know you’ve -come up here at all?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No sense in telling them that I could see. At least, -not till I’d made sure whether you were mincemeat or -not.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you a knife with you?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>“Sir—you insult me. Didn’t I tell you I’d come out -here prepared for operations generally?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, I wish you’d content yourself meantime with -amputating an end of that rope I left hanging down near -where the dog is. About twenty feet. Then, if you’ll make -one end fast where you are, and throw me the other, you’ll -have me safe and sound on the ledge beside you in a moment. -Not that I’m in any hurry to get away from here, really—it’s -quite a comfortable place to rest a bit. But I’ve just discovered -that I’m desperately hungry, and there’s still some -food left in my bag.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Don’t talk nonsense,” retorted the doctor. “Rope, you -say? I can’t get it without climbing up that silly place, -and I’m not an acrobat.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, then, slip down to Borg and fetch another.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Slip, indeed—very kind of you,” snapped the doctor. -And, followed by a merry laugh from Ørlygur, he turned -back towards the cleft where the rope had been left, muttering -curses on all foolhardy boys and this present escapade -in particular.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A little later he returned with the rope in his hand. He -seemed even more angry than when he had started.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Risking my neck for your mad pranks,” he grumbled. -“I had to scramble up the rocks to cut it high enough—I -hope you may hang yourself with it some day. Nearly got -hung up myself. And came down with a run, and gave myself -a most abominable bump at the end of it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>He did not say where he was hurt, but when he fancied -Ørlygur was not looking he rubbed himself tenderly behind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was but a moment’s work to make the rope fast, throw -out one end to Ørlygur, and draw him slowly in on to the -ledge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There! And now, where’s the damage?” asked the -doctor impatiently, by way of welcome.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No damage up to now, thanks. But if you feel put out -about it, I’ll let you take off one leg at the knee for your -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>They made their way back to the rock where Ørlygur had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>left his bag. The dog had not moved from the spot, and at -sight of its master sprang towards him, greeting him with -delight, and continued gambolling around, evidently overjoyed -at finding him again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>While Ørlygur was eating, the doctor stared up at the -rock and the rest of the rope hanging from the rock above. -After a time he asked:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“The cleft seems to end there. I suppose you just flew -the rest of the way?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur explained how he had made his way round the -ledge. “It’s easy enough,” he declared. “You could drive -a caravan round.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“But why on earth did you leave the rope behind?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, I thought it would be more fun to get along hanging -by my arms, with the rest of me in mid-air. Neater, -you understand.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I see. You’re pleased to make a jest of your own infernal -wickedness—for it’s wicked, nothing less, to play the -fool with life and death like that.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Ørlygur only laughed and went on with his meal. -The doctor continued his study of the rock, as if imagining -himself making the ascent, and shuddered. Then, abandoning -his ill-humoured tone, he turned to Ørlygur with tears -in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, you young fool!” he said. “Can nothing content -you but roads that were meant for the eagles?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m going another road tomorrow,” said Ørlygur, with a -laugh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor looked at him doubtfully.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Well, don’t count on me this time,” he said. “I’ll not -go dangling at your heels with an ambulance train every -time you’ve a fancy to risk your neck.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“There’s not much risk this time—not in that way, at -least. I’m only going over to the station to carry off your -housekeeper.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And that’s what I get for my pains—not to speak of -subsequent complications,” grunted the doctor. It was cool -up there in his shirt-sleeves, and a recent bump made it uncomfortable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>for him to sit down. But there was a note -of relief in his voice as he spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As soon as Ørlygur had finished eating, they started on -their way down. It was sunshine the first part of the way, -but a little farther down they found themselves enveloped -in a bank of clammy fog. At a distance, Ørlygur’s dog -was magnified to the size of a calf, and well-known rocks -became distorted and unrecognizable. Nevertheless, they -found no difficulty in making their way down. The path -was always just visible, and Ørlygur knew the track so well -that he could have followed it blindfold. As they went on, -the fog became thicker; the doctor’s horse was nowhere to be -seen. They searched for some time without success; they -could hardly see an arm’s length ahead. The saddle had -been left beside the track, and this they discovered, but -the horse was gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“We’ve always some horses in the paddock at home at -this time of year,” said Ørlygur. “You can take one of -ours. I’ll find yours tomorrow.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>On arriving at Borg, Ørlygur at once caught one of the -horses wandering loose, and put on the doctor’s saddle.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You’ll come indoors and have a cup of coffee before -you go on?” he said to the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thanks, I won’t say no. And perhaps a drop of something -stronger wouldn’t be amiss. But catch a couple -more horses while you’re about it.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What for?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor turned his head away, and answered a trifle -sadly:</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No need to put off that business you were speaking of -till tomorrow, is there?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur looked at him without a word.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Besides, you’d be company for me on the way home. -I don’t feel like wandering about alone in this fog.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur set off at once after two more horses, and tied -up the three in readiness. Then the two men went indoors, -and Ørlygur ordered coffee.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After a while Ormarr came in.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>“What brings you here, doctor?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jon Hallsson made no reply, but glanced at Ørlygur. -Ormarr followed his glance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And where have you been, Ørlygur?” he asked, noticing -the boy’s hands and clothing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’d better go and change, I think,” said Ørlygur awkwardly—“I’ve -been up Borgarfjall,” he added. “Up to -the top.” And he rose to his feet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr looked from one to the other in astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Up Borgarfjall! And you, too, doctor?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” answered the doctor, with emphasis. “No climbing -to the top of Borgarfjall for me, thank you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr turned to Ørlygur with a questioning look.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What were you doing up there?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I thought a sort of monument would look nice on top.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Sort of monument!...” Ormarr shook his head. -“But the top—the peak—it’s more than any man could do -to get there!”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Exactly,” said Ørlygur.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr and the doctor burst out laughing, in which -Ørlygur joined. Then hurriedly he made his escape.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he had left the room, Ormarr turned to the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What does it all mean?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My dear Ormarr Ørlygsson, don’t ask me. I have to -thank you, by the way, for finding me a most excellent housekeeper.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh,” answered Ormarr, somewhat at a loss, “I just happened -to know....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You just happened to know my little weakness,” put in -the doctor angrily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Both men were silent for a moment. Then the doctor -burst out laughing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Never been so done in all my life,” he said in an injured -tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m very sorry,” said Ormarr. “But it was the only -way I could see to....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Oh, never mind. Most happy to reciprocate, if needed, -and all that. But where am I to get another now?”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>Ormarr’s face lit up with a sudden gleam of pleasure. He -was about to speak, when the doctor interrupted him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, she is,” he said sharply. “It’s all settled. I’ve -played my little part. And Ørlygur’s going off now to -fetch her.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr rose, laughing, and held out his hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“My dear doctor, let me congratulate you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Me!” snapped the other.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Yes, you. A most rapid and satisfactory cure. If I -can help you to find another housekeeper....”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Thank you, I won’t trouble you.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor grasped Ormarr’s hand cordially. “I’m just -as pleased with the result as you can be, really,” he said, -with frank sincerity. “Ørlygur and I are rather friends, -you know. But he is a headstrong young fool, all the same. -You ought to go and look at that place where he went -up.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Then you were with him?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Not at the time—no. But from something he let fall -last night, and seeing something moving up there today, I -had an idea, and went up to see what he was doing.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What’s all this about a monument?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I don’t know. But I fancy he wanted to relieve his -feelings in some way—by doing something out of the ordinary, -you understand.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr seemed to be thinking hard. Then he looked up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“What makes you think so?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“It’s only an idea of mine. He is young, and full of -energy.... But, of course, I may be wrong.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I fancy you are right,” said Ormarr. “More so, perhaps, -than you imagine.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a pause. Ormarr was the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Look here,” he said. “Let Ørlygur ride over now and -fetch the girl, and you stay here for tonight. We have not -seen much of each other up to now, but you have been a good -friend to my son—my foster-son, that is. There are several -things we two old fellows could find to talk about. Besides, -you must be tired.”</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>The doctor accepted the invitation, and when Ørlygur -was ready to start, Ormarr went up to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You will bring her home here, of course. But I think -you ought to go round by Bolli, and bring her mother as -well.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ørlygur answered with a grateful glance and a nod. And -no more was said.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr Ørlygsson and Jon Hallsson sat long talking -together. Each sat by a window, watching the little streams -of moisture that trickled down the panes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor seemed weary and in low spirits.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I’m tired of life myself,” he said. “Have been for -years now. And yet I potter about trying to keep others -alive, when I daresay they’re just as tired of it as I am. -Doesn’t seem much sense in it anyway.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Life is a precious thing,” he said. “And often we -don’t realize it until it is too late. Then we fall to musing -dismally about it, instead of using our experience for the -good of others—for those who are to come after us. We -say to ourselves: I have suffered; so will they. Well, why -not? Let them look after themselves. But why have we -suffered? Because we are narrow-minded and ungrateful. -Surely we have known some glorious moments; how can -we complain of life after? Life is a round of ceaseless change, -day and night, sunshine and rain; we ourselves pass from -the unknown to the unknown again ... and that is why -a moment of harmony we call happiness is a wondrous -thing—a thing that can never be paid for throughout all -eternity.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“You may be right,” said the doctor. “I feel myself an -ungrateful creature at this moment.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“I have only felt that harmony myself at moments when -I was able to forget myself entirely in my music,” Ormarr -went on. “And then it was really only a complete forgetfulness -of all that was passing around me. How much -greater must be the happiness of those who <em>meet</em> in harmony; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>two human beings sharing happiness! For them it is the -rising of a sun that nothing can darken but the grave.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor bowed his head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>“And then?” he said. “When the grave had taken one -of them?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Would you wish you had never known the happiness -that has given you the greatest sorrow of your life?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>The doctor shook his head. “No! Not if it cost me all -eternity in torture.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“Have you ever thought of it before?”</p> - -<p class='c004'>“No,” said the doctor. “But I see what you mean. -And you are right. It simply comes to this: that we -should be grateful for life—grateful and happy for having -been allowed to live.”</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ormarr nodded. “Happy and grateful—yes. And humble, -too.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span> - <h3 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c003'>Ørlygur and Bagga rode quietly through the mist -over the hills from the station to Bolli. There -was no need for haste. They rode side by side, -keeping close together, holding each other’s hands in a -clasp that seemed as if it were never to end.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They spoke but little. Each felt, in absence, that there -was so much to say. But, on the surface, they were yet -as strangers to each other in this, that it was not easy to -speak of little trivial things. There was so much that they -had not yet known; and their minds were full of a silent, -happy longing and anticipation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Yet they rode there together in the mist, as if it were but -natural that they should—as if they already belonged to -each other—were already one heart and one soul.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The mist that wrapped them seemed a light and kindly -thing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They did not think how life had played with them but -a few hours back, like pawns in a game, or how the mist -of the present hour was but a pause while life determined -what the next move should be. They rode side by side, -holding each other’s hand. And neither felt the vaguest -glimmer of doubt as to the other’s will—the other’s love. -Both felt that nothing in life could part them now. And -the thought of death was far away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They rode together over the hills, two grey figures in the -mist. But there was sunshine in their souls.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> -<p> </p> - <hr class='pb c002' /> -<p> </p> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c006'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - </li> - </ol> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUEST THE ONE-EYED***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 62455-h.htm or 62455-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/2/4/5/62455">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/5/62455</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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