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Strife and Peace

by Fredrika Bremer · English · Gutenberg #20156 · 332,485 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Strife and Peace

Author: Fredrika Bremer

Translator: Mary Howitt


        
Release date: December 21, 2006 [eBook #20156]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20156

Credits: E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIFE AND PEACE ***


E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Janet Blenkinship, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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Fredrika Bremer's Works.

STRIFE AND PEACE.

Translated by Mary Howitt.







London:
Henry G. Bohn, York Street, Covent Garden.
1853.



CONTENTS

   OLD NORWAY
   HEIMDAL.
   THE POULTRY. THE WATER OF STRIFE.
      FIRST STRIFE.
   MRS. ASTRID.
      THE BREWHOUSE.
      THE GARRET.
      THE DAIRY.
   EVENING HOURS.
   CHRISTMAS.
   QUIET WEEKS.
   A MAY DAY.
   SPRING FEELINGS.
   MAN AND WIFE.
      A FRESH STRIFE.
   ALETTE.
   AN EVENING IN THE SITTING-ROOM.
   RETREATING AND ADVANCING.
   A GLANCE INTO NORDLAND.
   THE RETURN.
   THE HALLING.
   AASGAARDSREIJA.
   THE MOUNTAIN JOURNEY.
   THE AWAKENING.
   THE LAST STRIFE.
   AN AFTER-WORD.




STRIFE AND PEACE.



OLD NORWAY.

  Still the old tempests rage around the mountains,
  And ocean's billows as of old appear;
  The roaring wood and the resounding fountains
  Time has not silenced in his long career,
  For Nature is the same as ever.

  MUNCH.



  The shadow of God wanders through Nature.

  LINNÆUS.


Before yet a song of joy or of mourning had gone forth from the valleys
of Norway--before yet a smoke-wreath had ascended from its huts--before
an axe had felled a tree of its woods--before yet king Nor burst forth
from Jotunhem to seek his lost sister, and passing through the land gave
to it his name; nay, before _yet_ there was a Norwegian, stood the high
Dovre mountains with snowy summits before the face of the Creator.

Westward stretches itself out the gigantic mountain chain as far as
Romsdahlshorn, whose foot is bathed by the Atlantic ocean. Southward it
forms under various names (Langfjeld, Sognefjeld, Filefjeld,
Hardangerfjeld, and so forth), that stupendous mountainous district
which in a stretch of a hundred and fifty geographical miles comprehends
all that nature possesses of magnificent, fruitful, lovely, and
charming. Here stands yet, as in the first days of the world, in Upper
Tellemark, the Fjellstuga, or rock-house, built by an invisible hand,
and whose icy walls and towers that hand alone can overthrow: here
still, as in the morning of time, meet together at Midsummer, upon the
snowy foreheads of the ancient mountains, the rose-tint of morning and
the rose-tint of evening for a brotherly kiss; still roar as then the
mountain torrents which hurl themselves into the abyss; still reflect
the ice-mirrors of the glaciers the same objects--now delighting, now
awakening horror; and still to-day, even as then, are there Alpine
tracts which the foot of man never ascended: valleys of wood, "lonesome
cells of nature," upon which only the eagle and the Midsummer-sun have
looked down. Here is the old, ever young, Norway; here the eye of the
beholder is astonished, but his heart expands itself; he forgets his own
suffering, his own joy, forgets all that is trivial, whilst with a holy
awe he has a feeling that "the shadow of God wanders through nature."

In the heart of Norway lies this country. Is the soul wearied with the
tumults of the world or fatigued with the trifles of poor every-day
life--is it depressed by the confined atmosphere of the room,--with the
dust of books, the dust of company, or any other kind of dust (there are
in the world so many kinds, and they all cover the soul with a great
dust mantle); or is she torn by deep consuming passions,--then fly, fly
towards the still heart of Norway, listen there to the fresh mighty
throbbing of the heart of nature; alone with the quiet, calm, and yet so
eloquent, objects of nature, and there wilt thou gain strength and life!
There falls no dust. Fresh and clear stand the thoughts of life there,
as in the days of their creation. "Wilt thou behold the great and the
majestic? Behold the Gausta, which raises its colossal knees six
thousand feet above the surface of the earth; behold the wild giant
forms of Hurrungen, Fannarauken, Mugnafjeld; behold the Rjukan (the
rushing), the Vöring, and Vedal rivers foaming and thundering over the
mountains and plunging down in the abysses! And wilt though delight
thyself in the charming, the beautiful? They exist among these fruitful
scenes in peaceful solitude. The Säter-hut stands in the narrow valley;
herds of cattle graze on the beautiful grassy meadows; the Säter-maiden,
with fresh-colour, blue eyes, and bright plaits of hair, tends them and
sings the while the simple, the gentle melancholy airs of the country;
and like a mirror for that charming picture, there lies in the middle of
the valley a little lake (kjoern), deep, still, and of a clear blue
colour, as is generally peculiar to the glacier water. All breathes an
idyllian peace."

But a presentiment of death appears, even in the morning hour of
creation, to have impressed its seal upon this country. The vast
shadows of the dark mountain masses fall upon valleys where nothing but
moss grows; upon lakes whose still waters are full of never-melted
ice--thus the Cold Valley, the Cold Lake (Koledal and Koldesjö), with
their dead, grey-yellow shores. The stillness of death reigns in this
wilderness, interrupted only by the thunderings of the avalanche and by
the noise which occasions the motion of the glaciers. No bird moves its
wings or raises its twittering in this sorrowful region; only the
melodious sighs of the cuckoo are borne thither by the winds at
Midsummer.

Wilt thou, however, see life in its pomp and fairest magnificence? Then
see the embrace of the winter and the summer in old Norway; descend into
the plain of Svalem, behold the valleys of Aamaadt and Sillejord, or the
paradisaically beautiful Vestfjordal, through which the Mån flows still
and clear as a mirror, and embraces in its course little, bright green
islands, which are overgrown with bluebells and sweet-scented
wood-lilies; see how the silver stream winds itself down from the
mountains, between groups of trees and fruitful fields; see how, behind
the near hills with their leafy woods, the snow-mountains elevate
themselves, and like worthy patriarchs look down upon a younger
generation; observe in these valleys the morning and evening play of
colours upon the heights, in the depths; see the affluent pomp of the
storm; see the calm magnificence of the rainbow, as it vaults itself
over the waterfall,--depressed spirit, see this, understand it, and----
breathe!

From these beautifully, universally known scenes we withdraw ourselves
to a more unknown region, to the great stretch of valley where the
Skogshorn rears itself to the clouds; where Urunda flows brightly
between rocks,--the waterfalls of Djupadahl stream not the less
charmingly and proudly because they are only rarely admired by the eyes
of curious travellers. We set ourselves down in a region whose name and
situation we counsel nobody to seek out in maps, and which we call--




HEIMDAL.

  Knowest thou the deep, cool dale,
  Where church-like stillness doth prevail;
  Where neither flock nor herd you meet;
  Which hath no name nor track of feet?

  VELHAVEN.


Heimdal, we call a branch of Hallingdal, misplace it in the parish of
Aal, and turn it over to the learned--that they may wonder at our
boldness. Like its mother valley it possesses no historical memories. Of
the old kings of Hallingdal one knows but very little. Only a few
monumental stones, a few burial-mounds, give a dim intelligence of the
mighty who have been. It is true that a people dwelt here, who from
untold ages were renowned as well for their simplicity and their
contentedness under severe circumstances as for their wild
contest-loving disposition; but still, in quiet as in unquiet, built and
dwelt, lived and died here, without tumult and without glory, among the
ancient mountains and the pine-woods, unobserved by the rest of the
world.

One river, the son of Hallen-Jokul, flows through Heimdal. Foaming with
wild rage it comes through the narrow mountain-pass down into the
valley, finds there a freer field, becomes calm, and flows clear as a
mirror between green shores, till its banks become again compressed
together by granite mountains. Then is it again seized upon by disquiet,
and rushes thence in wild curves till it flings itself into the great
Hallingdal river, and there dies.

Exactly there, where the stream spreads itself out in the extended
valley, lies a large estate. A well-built, but somewhat decayed,
dwelling-house of wood stretches out its arms into the depths of the
valley. Thence may be seen a beautiful prospect, far, far into the blue
distance. Hills overgrown with, wood stretch upward from the river, and
cottages surrounded with inclosed fields and beautiful grassy paths, lie
scattered at the foot of the hills. On the other side of the river, a
mile-and-half from the Grange, a chapel raises its peaceful tower.
Beyond this the valley gradually contracts itself.

On a cool September evening, strangers arrived at the Grange, which had
now been long uninhabited. It was an elderly lady, of a noble but
gloomy exterior, in deep mourning. A young, blooming maiden accompanied
her. They were received by a young man, who was called there "the
Steward." The dark-appareled lady vanished in the house, and after that
was seen nowhere in the valley for several months. They called her there
"the Colonel's lady," and said Mrs. Astrid Hjelm had experienced a very
strange fate, of which many various histories were in circulation. At
the estate of Semb, which consisted of the wide-stretching valley of
Heimdal, and which was her paternal heritage, had she never, since the
time of her marriage, been seen. Now as widow she had again sought out
the home of her childhood. It was known also and told, that her
attendant was a Swedish girl, who had come with her from one of the
Swedish watering-places, where she had been spending the summer, in
order to superintend her housekeeping; and it was said, that Susanna
Björk ruled as excellently as with sovereign sway over the economical
department, over the female portion of the same, Larina the
parlour-maid, Karina the kitchen-maid, and Petro the cook, as well as
over the farm-servants Mathea, Budeja, and Göran the cattle-boy,
together with all their subjects of the four-footed and two-legged
races. We will now with these last make a little nearer acquaintance.




THE POULTRY. THE WATER OF STRIFE.

FIRST STRIFE.

  "For Norway!"
  "For Sweden!"

   DISPUTANTS.


The morning was clear and fresh. The September sun shone into the
valley; smoke rose from the cottages. The ladies-mantle, on whose fluted
cups bright pearls trembled; the silver-weed, with its yellow flowers
and silver glittering leaves, shone in the morning sun beside the
footpath, which wound along the moss-grown feet of the backs of the
mountains. It conducted to a spring of the clearest water, which after
it had filled its basin, allowed its playful vein to run murmuring down
to the river.

To this spring, on that beautiful morning, went down Susanna Björk, and
there followed her "cocks and hens, and chickens small."

Before her waddled with consequential gabblings a flock of geese, which
were all snow-white, excepting one--a grey gander. This one tottered
with a desponding look a little behind the others, compelled to this by
a tyrant among the white flock, which, as soon as the grey one attempted
to approach, drove it back with outstretched neck and yelling cries. The
grey gander always fled before the white tyrant; but bald places upon
the head and neck proved that he had not come into this depressed
condition, without those severe combats having made evident the
fruitlessness of protestation. Not one of the goose madams troubled
herself about the ill-used gander, and for that reason Susanna all the
more zealously took upon herself, with delicate morsels and kind words,
to console him for the injustice of his race. After the geese, came the
well-meaning but awkward ducks; the turkey-cock, with his choleric
temper and his two foolish wives, one white and the other black; lastly,
came the unquiet generation of hens, with their handsome, quarrel-loving
cocks. The prettiest of all, however, were a flock of pigeons which,
confidingly and bashfully at the same time, now alighted down upon
Susanna's shoulders and outstretched hand; now flew aloft and wheeled in
glittering circles around her head; then settled down again upon the
earth, where they neatly tripped, with their little fringed feet,
stealing down to the spring to drink, whilst the geese with great tumult
bathed themselves in the water and splashed about, throwing the water in
pearly rain over the grass. Here also was the grey gander, to Susanna's
great vexation, compelled by the white one to bathe itself at a distance
from the others.

Susanna looked around her upon the beautiful richly-coloured picture
which lay before her, upon the little creatures which played around her
and enjoyed themselves, and evident delight beamed from her eyes as she
raised them, and with hands pressed together, said softly, "O heavens!
how beautiful!"

But she shrunk together in terror, for in that very moment a strong
voice just beside her broke forth--

  "How glorious is my fatherland,
  The old sea-circled Norroway!"

And the steward, Harald Bergman, greeted smilingly Susanna, who said
rather irritated--

"You scream so, that you frighten the doves with your old Norroway."

"Yes," continued Harald, in the same tone of inspiration--

  "Yes, glorious is my fatherland,
  The ancient, rock-bound Norroway;
  With flowery dale, crags old and grey,
  That spite of time eternal stand!"

"Old Norway," said Susanna as before; "I consider it a positive shame to
hear you talk of your old Norway, as if it were older and more
everlasting than the Creator himself!"

"And where in all the world," exclaimed Harald, "do you find a country
with such a proud, serious people; such magnificent rivers, and such
high, high mountains?"

"We have, thank God, men and mountains also in Sweden," said Susanna;
"you should only see them; that is another kind of thing!"

"Another kind of thing! What other kind of thing? I will wager that
there is not a single goose in Sweden which could compare with our
excellent Norway geese."

"No, not one, but a thousand, and all larger and fatter than these.
Everything in Sweden is larger and more excellent than in Norway."

"Larger? The people are decidedly smaller and weaker."

"Weaker? smaller? you should only see the people in Uddevalla, my native
city!"

"How can anybody be born in Uddevalla? Does anybody really live in that
city? How can anybody live in it? It is a shame to live in such a city;
it is a shame also only to drive through it. It is so miserably small,
that when the wheels of the travelling-carriage are at one end, the
horse has already put his head out at the other. Do not talk about
Uddevalla!"

"No, with you it certainly is not worth while to talk about it, because
you have never seen anything else besides Norwegian villages, and
cannot, on that account, form any idea to yourself of a proper Swedish
city."

"Defend me from ever seeing such cities--defend me! And then your
Swedish lakes! what wretched puddles they are, beside our glorious
Norwegian ocean!"

"Puddles! Our lakes! Great enough to drown the whole of Norway in!"

"Ha, ha, ha! And the whole of Sweden is beside our Norwegian ocean no
bigger than my cap! And this ocean would incessantly flow over Sweden,
did not our Norway magnanimously defend it with its granite breast."

"Sweden defends itself, and needs no other help! Sweden is a fine
country!"

"Not half as fine as Norway. Norway reaches heaven with its mountains;
Norway comes nearest to the Creator."

"Norway may well be presumptuous, but God loves Sweden the best."

"Norway, say I!"

"Sweden, say I!"

"Norway! Norway for ever! We will see whose throw goes the highest, who
wins for his country. Norway first and highest!" and with this, Harald
threw a stone high into the air.

"Sweden first and last!" exclaimed Susanna, whilst she slung a stone
with all her might.

Fate willed it that the two stones struck against each other in the air,
after which they both fell with a great plump down into the spring
around which the small creatures had assembled themselves. The geese
screamed; the hens and ducks flew up in terror; the turkey-hens flew
into the wood, where the turkey-cock followed them, forgetting all his
dignity; all the doves had vanished in a moment,--and with crimsoned
cheeks and violent contention as to whose stone went the highest, stood
Harald and Susanna alone beside the agitated and muddied water of
discord.

The moment is perhaps not the most auspicious, but yet we will make use
of it, in order to give a slight sketch of the two contending persons.

Harald Bergman had speaking, somewhat sharp features, in which an
expression of great gravity could easily be exchanged for one of equal
waggery. The dark hair fell in graceful waves over a brow in which one
saw that clear thought was entertained. His figure was finely
proportioned, and his movements showed great freedom and vigour.

He had been brought up in a respectable family, had enjoyed a careful
education, and was regarded by friends and acquaintances as a young man
of extraordinary promise. Just as he had left the S. seminary, and was
intending a journey into foreign countries, in order to increase still
more his knowledge of agriculture, chance brought him acquainted with
the widow of Colonel Hjelm, at the time in which she was returning to
her native country, and in consequence thereof he altered his plans. In
a letter to his sister, he expresses himself on this subject in the
following manner:

"I cannot properly describe to you, Alette, the impression which she
made upon me. I might describe to you her tall growth, her noble
bearing, her countenance, where, spite of many wrinkles and a
pale-yellow complexion, traces of great beauty are incontrovertible; the
lofty forehead, around which black locks sprinkled with grey, press
forth from beneath her simple cap. I might tell of her deep, serious
eyes, of her low and yet solemn voice; and yet thou couldst form to
thyself no representation of that which makes her so uncommon. I have
been told that her life has been as much distinguished by exemplary
virtue as by suffering--and virtue and suffering have called forth in
her a quiet greatness, a greatness which is never attained to by the
favourites of fortune and of nature, which stamps her whole being. She
seemed to me as if all the frivolities of the world passed by her
unremarked. I felt for her an involuntary reverence, such as I had never
felt before for any human being; and at the same time a great desire to
approach her more nearly, to be useful to her, to deserve, and to win
her esteem--it seemed to me that I should thereby become somewhat
greater, or at least better; and as I was informed that she sought for a
clever and experienced steward for her sorely decayed estate, I offered
myself as such, in all modesty, or rather without any; and when
accepted, I felt an almost childish joy, and set off immediately to her
estate, that I might make myself at home there, and have everything in
readiness to receive her."

Thus much for Harald, now for Susanna.

Barbara Susanna Björk was not handsome, could not be even called pretty
(for that, she was too large and strong), but she was good-looking. The
blue eyes looked so honestly and openly into the world; the round and
full face testified health, kindness, and good spirits; and when Susanna
was merry, when the rosy lips opened themselves for a hearty laugh, it
made any one right glad only to look at her. But true is it, that she
was very often in an ill humour, and then she did not look at all
charming. She was a tall, well-made girl, too powerful in movement ever
to be called graceful, and her whole being betrayed a certain want of
refinement.

Poor child! how could she have obtained this in the home abounding in
disorder, poverty, and vanity, in which the greater part of her life had
been passed.

Her father was the Burgomaster of Uddevalla; her mother died in the
infancy of her daughter. Soon afterwards an aunt came into the house,
who troubled herself only about the housekeeping and her coffee-drinking
acquaintance, left her brother himself to seek for his pleasures at the
club, and the child to take care of herself. The education of the little
Susanna consisted in this, that she learned of necessity to read, and
that when she was naughty they said to her, "Is Barbra there again? Fie,
for shame, Barbra! Get out, Barbra!" and when she was good again, it
was, "See now, Sanna is here again! Welcome, sweet Sanna!" A method
which certainly was not without its good points, if it had only been
wisely applied. But often was the little girl talked to as "Barbra" when
there was no occasion for it, and this had often the effect of calling
forth the said personage. In the mean time, she was accustomed as a
child to go out as Barbra, and to come in again as Sanna, and this gave
her early an idea of the two natures which existed in her, as they exist
in every person. This idea attained to perfect clearness in Susanna's
religious instruction,--the only instruction which poor Susanna ever
had. But how infinitely rich is such instruction for an ingenuous mind,
when it is instilled by a good teacher. Susanna was fortunate enough to
have such a one, and she now became acquainted in Barbra with the
earthly demon which should be overcome in Sanna, the child of heaven,
which makes free and enlightens; and from this time there began between
Barbra and Sanna an open strife, which daily occurred, and in which the
latter, for the most part, got the upper hand, if Susanna was not too
suddenly surprised by a naturally proud and violent temper.

When Susanna had attained her twelfth year her father married a second
time, but became a second time a widower, after his wife had presented
him with a daughter. Two months after this he died also. Near relations
took charge of the orphan children. In this new home Susanna learned
to--bear hardships; for there, as she was strong and tall, and besides
that made herself useful, and was kind-hearted, they made her soon the
servant of the whole house. The daughters of the family said that she
was fit for nothing else, for she could learn nothing, and had such
unrefined manners; and besides that, she had been taken out of charity;
she had nothing, and so on: all which they made her feel many a time in
no gentle manner, and over which Susanna shed many bitter tears both of
pain and anger. One mouth, however, there was which never addressed to
Susanna other tones than those of affectionate love, and this was the
mouth of the little sister, the little golden-haired Hulda. She had
found in Susanna's arms her cradle, and in her care that of the
tenderest mother. For from Hulda's birth Susanna had taken the little
forlorn one to herself, and never had loved a young mother her
first-born child more warmly or more deeply than Susanna loved her
little Hulda, who also, under her care, became the loveliest and the
most amiable child that ever was seen. And woe to those who did any
wrong to the little Hulda! They had to experience the whole force of
Susanna's often strong-handed displeasure. For her sake Susanna passed
here several years of laborious servitude: as she, however, saw no end
to this, yet was scarcely able to dress herself and her sister
befittingly, and besides this was prevented by the multitude of her
occupations from bestowing upon her sister that care which she required,
therefore Susanna, in her twentieth year, looked about her for a better
situation.

From the confined situation in which Susanna spent such a weary life,
she was able to see one tree behind a fence, which stretched out its
branches over the street. Many a spring and summer evening, when the
rest of the inhabitants of the house were abroad on parties of pleasure,
sate Susanna quietly by the little slumbering Hulda, within the little
chamber which she had fitted up for herself and her sister, and observed
with quiet melancholy from her window the green tree, whose twigs and
leaves waved and beckoned so kindly and invitingly in the wind.

By degrees the green leaves beckoned into her soul thoughts and plans,
which eventually fashioned themselves into a determined form, or rather
an estate, whose realisation from this time forth became the paradise of
her soul and the object of her life. This estate was a little farm in
the country, which Susanna would rent, and cultivate, and make
profitable by her own industry and her own management. She planted
potatoes; she milked cows and made butter; she sowed, she reaped; and
the labour was to her a delight; for there, upon the soft grass, under
the green, waving tree, sate the little Hulda, and played with flowers,
and her blue eyes beamed with happiness, and no care and no want came
near her.

All Susanna's thoughts and endeavours directed themselves to the
realising of this idea. The next step towards it was the obtaining a
good service, in which, by saving her wages, she could obtain a sum of
money sufficient to commence her rural undertaking. Susanna flattered
herself, that in a few years she could bring her scheme to bear, and
therefore made inquiries after a suitable situation.

There were this year among the visitors at the watering-place of
Gustafsberg, which lay near to Uddevalla, a Norwegian Colonel and his
lady. He was lame from a paralytic stroke, and had lost the use of his
speech and of his hands. He was a large man, of a fierce, stern
exterior; and although he seemed to endure nobody near him but his wife,
and perpetually demanded her care, still it was evidently not out of
love. And although his wife devoted herself unweariedly and
self-denyingly to his service, still this evidently was not from love
either, but from some other extraordinary power. Her own health was
visibly deeply affected, and violent spasms often attacked her breast;
but night or day, whenever it was his will to rise, it was her patient,
bowed neck around which his arm was laid. She stood by his side, and
supported him in the cold shower-bath, which was intended to re-awaken
his dormant power of life, at the same time that it destroyed hers. She
was ever there, always firm and active, seldom speaking, and never
complaining. By the painful contraction of her countenance alone, and by
the peculiarity of laying her hand upon her heart, it could be seen that
she suffered. Susanna had an opportunity of seeing all this, and
admiration and sympathy filled her breast. Before long she was fortunate
enough to assist the noble lady, to offer to her her strong youthful arm
as support, and to watch over the sick man when his wife was compelled
to close her eyes from fatigue. And fortunately the invalid endured her.
Susanna was witness of the last horrible scenes by the death-bed of the
Colonel. He seemed to make violent efforts to say something, but--he
could not. Then he made signs that he wished to write something; but his
fingers could not hold the pen. Then presented itself a horrible
disquiet on his distorted features. With that his wife bowed herself
over him, and with an expression of the greatest anxiety, seized one of
his hands and whispered--"Give me only a sign, as answer! Tell me! Tell
me! does he yet live?"

The sick man riveted upon her a strong gaze, and--bowed his head. Was
this an assenting answer, or was it the hand of death which forbad an
answer? No one could tell, for he never again raised his head. It was
his last movement.

For many days afterwards a quick succession of spasmodic attacks seemed
to threaten the widowed lady with approaching death. Susanna watched
incessantly beside her, and felt herself happy in being able to watch
over her and to serve her. Susanna had conceived an almost passionate
devotion for Mrs. Astrid; such as young girls often feel for elderly,
distinguished women, to whom they look up as to the ideal of their sex.
And when Mrs. Astrid returned to Norway, Susanna kissed with tears her
little Hulda, but yet felt herself happy to follow such a mistress, and
to serve her in the rural solitude to which she betook herself. Susanna
journeyed to the foreign country, but retained deep in her heart her
little Hulda and her life's plan.




MRS. ASTRID.

  Did ye but feel, O stars! who see
  The whole earth's silent misery,
  Then never would your glances rest
  With such calm radiance on her breast.

  HENR WERGELAND.


As Susanna withdrew from Harald, and from the water of discord, she was
quite in an excited and bad temper; but as soon however as she
approached the wing of the house which Mrs. Astrid inhabited, she became
calmer. She looked up to her window, and saw there her noble but gloomy
profile. It was bent down, and her head seemed as it were depressed by
dark thoughts. At this sight, Susanna forgot all her own ill humour.
"Oh!" sighed she, "if I could only make her happier!"

This was Susanna's daily subject of thought, but it became to her every
day a darker riddle. Mrs. Astrid appeared to be indifferent to
everything around her here. Never did she give an order about anything
in the house, but let Susanna scold there and govern just as she would.
Susanna took all the trouble she could to provide the table of her
mistress with everything good and delicious which lay in her power; but
to her despair the lady ate next to nothing, and never appeared to
notice whether it was prepared well or ill.

Now before Susanna went into the house, she gathered several of the most
beautiful flowers which the autumn frost had spared, made a nosegay of
them, and with these in her hand stept softly into Mrs. Astrid's room.

"Bowed with grief," is the expression which describes Mrs. Astrid's
whole being. The sickly paleness of her noble countenance, the depressed
seldom-raised eyelids, the inanimate languor of her movements, the
gloomy indifference in which her soul seemed to be wrapped,--like her
body in its black mourning habiliments, when she sate for hours in her
easy-chair, often without occupation, the head bowed down upon the
breast; all this indicated a soul which was severely fettered by long
suffering.

Suffering in the north has its own peculiar character. In the south it
burns and consumes. In the north it kills slowly; it freezes, it
petrifies by degrees. This has been acknowledged for untold ages, when
our forefathers sought for images of that which they felt to be the most
terrible in life; thus originated the fable of the subterranean dwelling
of Hela, of the terrors of the shore of corpses--in one word, the "Hell
of the North, with its infinite, treeless wildernesses; with cold,
darkness, mist, clammy rivers, chill, distilling poison, cities
resembling clouds filled with rain, feetless hobgoblins," and so on.

In the Grecian Tartarian dance of the Furies there is life and wild
strength, there is in its madness a certain intoxication which deprives
it of its feeling of deep misery. The heart revolts not so much from
these pictures of terror, as from the cold, clammy, dripping ones which
the chill north exhibits--ah! not alone in poetry.

As Susanna entered the apartment of Mrs. Astrid, she found her sitting,
as usual, sunk in deep melancholy. Upon a table before her lay paper and
pens, and a book, in which she appeared to have been reading. It was the
Bible; it lay open at the book of Job, and the following passages were
underlined:

  My soul is weary of my life, for my days are vanity.
  Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards.

Mrs. Astrid's eyes were riveted upon these last words, as Susanna
softly, and with a warm heart, approached her, and with a cordial "Ah!
be so good," presented to her the nosegay.

The lady looked up at the flowers, and an expression of pain passed over
her countenance as she turned away her head and said, "They are
beautiful, but keep them, Susanna, they are painful to my eyes."

She resumed her former position, and Susanna, much troubled, drew back;
after a short silence, however, she again ventured to raise her voice,
and said, "We have got to-day a beautiful salmon-trout, will you not,
Mrs. Astrid, have it for dinner? Perhaps with egg-sauce, and perhaps I
might roast a duck, or a chicken----"

"Do whatever you like, Susanna," said the lady, interrupting her, and
with indifference. But there was something so sorrowful in this
indifference, that Susanna, who had again approached her, could not
contain herself; she quickly threw herself before her mistress, clasped
her knees, and said:

"Ah, if I could only do something to please my lady; if I could only do
something."

But Susanna's warm glance, beaming with devotion, met one so dark, that
she involuntarily started back.

"Susanna," said Mrs. Astrid, as with gloomy seriousness she laid her
hand upon her shoulder and gently put her back, "gratify me in one
thing, attach not thyself to me. It will not lead to good. I have no
attachment to give--my heart is dead! Go, my child," continued she more
kindly, "go, and do not trouble thyself about me. My wish, the only good
thing for me, is to be alone."

Susanna went now, her heart filled with the most painful feelings. "Not
trouble myself about her!" said she to herself, as she wiped away a
tear; "not trouble myself about her, as if that were so easy."

After Susanna was gone, Mrs. Astrid threw a melancholy glance upon the
papers which lay before her. She seized the pen, and laid it down again.
She seemed to shudder at the thought of using it; at length she overcame
herself, and wrote the following letter:

"You wish that I should write to you. I write for that reason; but
what--what shall I say to you? My thanks for your letter, my paternal
friend, the teacher of my youth; thanks that you wish to strengthen and
elevate my soul. But I am old, bowed down, wearied, embittered--there
dwells no strength, no living word more in my breast. My friend, it is
too late--too late!

"You would raise my glance to heaven; but what is the glory of the sun
to the eye that--sees no longer? What is the power of music to the deaf
ear? What is all that is beautiful, all that is good in the world, to
the heart that is dead, that is turned to stone in a long, severe
captivity? Oh, my friend, I am unworthy of your consolation, of your
refreshing words. My soul raises itself against them, and throws them
from herself as 'words, words, words,' which have sounded beautifully
and grandly for thousands of years, whilst thousands of souls are
inconsolably speechless.

"Hope? I have hoped so long. I have already said to myself so long, 'a
better day comes! The path of duty conducts to the home of peace and
light, be the way ever so full of thorns. Go only steadfastly forward,
weary pilgrim, go, go, and thou wilt come to the holy land!' And I have
gone--I have gone on through the long, weary day, for above thirty
years; but the way stretches itself out farther and farther--my hopes
have withered, have died away, the one after the other;--I see now no
goal, none, but the grave! Love, love! Ah, if you knew what an
inexpressibly bitter feeling this word awakens in me! Have I not loved,
loved intensely? And what fruit has my love borne? It has broken my
heart, and has brought unhappiness to those whom I loved. It is in vain
that you would combat a belief which has taken deep root in me. I
believe that there are human beings who are born and pre-ordained to
misfortune, and who communicate misfortune to all who approach them, and
_I believe that I belong to these_. Let me, therefore, fly from my kind,
fly from every feeling which binds me to them. Why should I occasion
more mischief than I have already done?

"Why do you desire me to write? I wish not to pour my bitterness into
the heart of another; I wish to grieve no one, and--what have I now
done?

"There is a silent combat which goes through the world, which is fought
out in the reserved human heart, and at times--fearfully! It is the
combat with evil and bitter thoughts. They are such thoughts as
sometimes take expression, expression written in fire and blood. Then
are they read before the judgment-seat and condemned. In many human
hearts, however, they rage silently for long years; then are undermined
by degrees, health, temper, love, faith, faith in life and faith in--a
good God. With this sinks everything.

"Could I believe that my devoted, true pilgrimage by the side of a
husband whom I once so tenderly loved, and for whose sake I dragged on
life in the fortress of which he was the commander, in comparison of
which the life of the condemned criminal is joy; whom I followed
faithfully, though I no longer loved him, because it was needful to him;
because, without me, he would have been given over to dark
spirits--followed, because right and duty demanded it; because I had
promised it before God--Oh! could I believe that this fidelity had
operated beneficially--that my endeavours had borne any fruit--I should
not then, as now, ask 'why was I born? why have I lived?' But nothing,
nothing!

"Could I think that on the other side of the grave I should meet the
gentle loving look of my only sister--would I gladly die. But what
should I reply to her, if she asked after her child of sorrow? How would
she look upon the unfaithful protectress?

"Oh, my friend! My misfortune has nothing in common with that of
romances, nothing with that of which most the deep shades only serve to
set off the most beautiful lights. It is a wearisome winter twilight;
which only conducts to a deeper night. And am I alone in this condition?
Open the pages of history, look around you in the present day, and you
will see a thousand-fold sufferings, unmerited sufferings, which, after
a long agony lead--to despair. But another, a happier life! Only
consolation, only hope, only true point of light in the darkness of
earthly existence!--no, no! I will not abandon thee! I will trust in
thee; and in this belief will be silenced the murmurings which so often
arise against the Creator of the world.

"I am ill, and do not believe that I shall live over this winter.
Breathing is difficult to me; and perhaps the inexpressible heaviness
which burdens me may contribute to this torment. When I sit up sleepless
in my bed through the long nights, and see the night in myself, behind
me and before me, then dark, horrible phantasies surround me, and I
often think that insanity, with ashy cheeks, stony and rigid gaze,
approaches me, will darken my reason and bewilder my mind. How can I
wish to live? When it is evening, I wish it were morning; and when it is
morning, I wish that the day was over, and that it were again evening.
Every hour is to me a burden and a torment.

"For this cause, my friend, pray God for me that I may soon die!
Farewell! Perhaps I may write no more. But my last clear thought will be
for you. Forgive the impatience, the bitterness, which shows itself in
this letter. Pray for me, my friend and teacher, pray that I may be able
to compose myself, and to pray yet before I die!"




NEW CONTENTIONS.

  We're living a peculiar life,
  With serious words and serious strife.

  MUNCH.


Whilst we leave the pale Mrs. Astrid alone with her dark thoughts, we
are led by certain extraordinary discords to look around in

THE BREWHOUSE.

Harald found himself there for the purpose of tasting the new beer which
Susanna had brewed; but before he had swallowed down a good draught, he
said, with a horrible grimace, "It is good for nothing--good for nothing
at all!"

Somewhat excited, Susanna made reply, "Perhaps you will also assert that
Baroness Rosenhjelm's brewing-recipe is good for nothing!"

"That I assert decidedly. Does not she give coffee-parties? And a
coffee-bibber is always a bad housewife; and as Baroness Rosenhjelm is a
coffee-bibber, therefore----"

"I must tell you," interrupted Susanna, vehemently, "that it is
unbecoming and profane of you to talk in this way of such an excellent
lady, and a person of such high rank!"

"High! How high may she be?"

"A deal higher than you are, or ever can be, that I can assure you!"

"Higher than me! then of a certainty she goes on stilts. Now, I must say
that is the very tip-top of gentility and politeness. One may forgive a
lady giving coffee-parties, and decorating and dressing herself up, but
to go on stilts, only on purpose to be higher than other folks, and to
be able to look over their heads, that is coming it strong over us. How
can such a high person ever come down low enough to brew good beer? But
a Swedish woman can never brew good beer, for----"

"She will not brew a single drop for you abominable Norwegians, for you
have neither reason, nor understanding, nor taste, nor----"

Out of the brewhouse flew Susanna, in the highest indignation, throwing
down a glass of beer which Harald had poured out during the contention
for her, but which now would have gone right over if he had not saved it
by a spring.

Towards the evening of the same day we see the contending parties again
met in

THE GARRET.

"Are you yet angry?" asked Harald, jokingly, as he stretched in his head
through the garret-door, where Susanna was sitting upon a flour-tub, as
on a throne, with all the importance and dignity of a store-room queen,
holding in her hand a sceptre of the world-famous sweet herbs--thyme,
marjoram, and basil, which she was separating into little bundles,
whilst she cast a searching glance around her well-ordered kingdom.

The bread-chests were heaped up, for she had just baked oaten-bread;
bacon-sausages and hams hung full of gravy, from the roof, as well as
great bundles of dried fish; little bags full of all kinds of vegetables
stood in their appointed places, and so on.

Harald looked also around the garret, and truly with the eye of a
connoisseur, and said, although he had yet received no answer to his
question--

"It is certain that I never saw a better provided or better arranged
store-room!"

Susanna would not exhibit one gleam of the pleasure she felt at this
praise.

"But," continued Harald, "you must confess that it does not require so
very much skill to preserve the store-room and cellar well supplied in a
country so rich in all the good things of life as our Norway--

  Well-beloved land, with heaven-high mountains,
  Fruit-bearing valleys, and fish-giving shores!"

"Fish also have we, thank God, in Sweden," replied Susanna, drily.

"Oh, but not to compare with our fish! Or would you seriously set your
perch and carp against our mackerel, herrings, haddocks, flounders, and
all our unparalleled quantities of fish?"

"All your Norwegian kind of fish I would give for one honest Swedish
pike."

"A pike! Is there then in Sweden really nothing but pike?"

"In Sweden there are all kinds of fish that there are in Norway, and a
great deal bigger and fatter."

"Yes, then they come from our coasts. We take what we want, and that
which remains we let swim to Sweden, that down there they may have
somewhat also. But I have forgotten that I myself am going a-fishing,
and will catch little fishes, great fishes, a deal of fish. Adieu,
Mamsel Susanna. I shall soon come back with fish."

"You had best stop with your Norwegian fishes," cried Susanna after him.

But Harald did not stop with the fishes. On the morrow we see him
following Susanna into

THE DAIRY.

"I see that we are going to have to-day for dinner onion-milk, one of
our most delicious national dishes, and my favourite eating."

"Usch! One gets quite stupid and sleepy when one only thinks on your
national dishes. And still more horrible than your onion-milk, and more
unnatural too, is your fruit-soup with little herrings."

"Fruit-soup with little herrings! Nay, that is the most superexcellent
food on the earth, a food which I might call a truly Christian dish."

"And I might call it a heathenish dish, which no true Christian man
could eat."

"From untold ages it has been eaten by free Norwegian men in the
beautiful valleys of Norway."

"That proves that you free Norwegians are still heathens."

"I can prove to you that the Norwegians were a Christian people before
the Swedes."

"That you may prove as much as you like, but I shall not believe it."

"But I will show it to you in print."

"Then I shall be certain that it is a misprint."

Harald laughed, and said something about the impossibility of disputing
with a Swedish woman. Should now anybody wish to know how it happens
that one finds Harald so continually in Susanna's company in the
brewhouse, in the store-room, in the dairy, we can only reply that he
must be a great lover of beer, and flour, and milk, or of a certain
spice in the every-day soup of life, called bantering.

Mrs. Astrid always breakfasted in her own room, but dined with Harald
and Susanna, and saw them often for an hour in the evening. Often during
dinner did the contention about Norway and Sweden break out; for the
slightest occasion was sufficient to make the burgomaster's daughter
throw herself blindly into the strife for fatherland; and, strange
enough, Mrs. Astrid herself sometimes seemed to find pleasure in
exciting the contest, as she brought upon the carpet one question or
another, as--

"I should like to know whether cauliflower is better in Norway or in
Sweden?" or, "I should like to know whether the corn is better in Sweden
or in Norway?"

"Quite certainly in Norway," said Harald.

"Quite decidedly in Sweden," cried Susanna. And vegetables, and fish,
and the coinage, and measures and weights, were all handled and
contended for in this way.

Of the corn in Norway, Susanna said, "I have not seen upon this whole
estate one single straw which may bear a comparison with that which I
have seen in Sweden."

"The cause of that," said Harald, "is because you saw here good corn for
the first time."

Of the Norwegian weights, Susanna said, "I never know what I am about
with your absurd, nasty Norwegian weights."

"They are heavier than the Swedish," replied Harald.

Whenever Susanna became right vehement and right angry, then--it is
shocking to say it--Harald laughed with his whole heart, and at times a
faint smile brightened also Mrs. Astrid's pale face, but it resembled
the gleam of sunshine which breaks forth in a dark November sky, only to
be immediately concealed behind clouds.

Susanna never thought in the least, on these occasions, of putting the
bridle on the Barbra temper. She considered it as a holy duty to defend
the fatherland in this manner.

But the spirit of contention did not always reign between Harald and
Susanna. At intervals the spirit of peace also turned towards them,
although as a timid dove, which is always ready soon to fly away hence.
When Susanna spoke, as she often did, of that which lived in the inmost
of her heart; of her love to her little sister, and the recollections of
their being together; of her longings to see her again, and to be able
to live for her as a mother for her child,--then listened Harald ever
silently and attentively. No jeering smile nor word came to disturb
these pure images in Susanna's soul. And how limningly did Susanna
describe the little Hulda's beauty; the little white child, as soft as
cotton-wool, the pious blue eyes, the white little teeth, which glanced
out whenever she laughed like bright sunshine, which then lay spread
over her whole countenance; and the golden locks which hung so
beautifully over forehead and shoulders, the little pretty hands, and
temper and heart lively, good, affectionate! Oh! she was in short an
angel of God! The little chamber, which Susanna inhabited with her
little Hulda, and which she herself had changed from an unused
lumber-room into a pretty chamber, and whose walls she herself painted,
she painted now from memory yet once more for Harald; and the bed of the
little Hulda was surrounded with a light-blue muslin curtain, and how a
sunbeam stole into the chamber in the morning, in order to shine on the
pillow of the child, and to kiss her little curly head. How roguish was
the little one when Susanna came in late at night to go to bed, and cast
her first glance on the bed in which her darling lay. But she saw her
not, for Hulda drew her little head under the coverlet to hide herself
from her sister. Susanna then would pretend to seek for the little one;
but she needed only to say with an anxious voice, "where--ah, where is
my little Hulda?" in order to decoy forth the head of the little one, to
see her arms stretched out, and to hear her say, "here I am, Sanna! here
is thy little Hulda!" And she had then her little darling in her arms,
and pressed her to her heart; then was Susanna happy, and forgot all the
cares and the fatigues of the day.

At the remembrance of these hours Susanna's tears often flowed, and
prevented her remarking the tearful glow which sometimes lit up Harald's
eyes.

Harald, however, had also his relations; not, it is true, of so tender a
nature, but yet interesting enough to lay claim to all Susanna's
attention, and to give us occasion to commence a new chapter.




EVENING HOURS.

  I like the life, where rule and line appeareth,
  In the mill's clapping and the hammer's blow;
  I give to him the path who burthens beareth,
  He worketh for a useful end I know.
  But he, who for the klip-klap never heareth
  The call of bells to feeling's holiday--
  Hath but sham-life, mechanically moving,
  Soul-less he is, unconscious and unloving.
  Fly agile arrow, rattling in thy speeding
  Over the busy emmet's roof of clay,
  And waken spiritual life!

  FOSS.


Harald related willingly, and related uncommonly well;--an entertaining
and a happy gift, which one often meets with in Norway among all
classes, both in men and women, and which they appear to have inherited
from their ancestors the Scalds; and besides this, he was well
acquainted with the natural wonders and legends of the mountain region.

And it is precisely in mountain regions where the most beautiful
blossoms of the people's poetry have sprung as if from her heart. The
ages of the Sagas and the heathens have left behind their giant traces.
River and mountain have their traditions of spectres and
transformations; giant "cauldrons" resound in the mountains, and
monumental stones are erected over warriors, who "buckled on their
belts," and fell in single combat. From Hallingdal went forth the
national Polska (the Halling), and only the Hardanger-fela (the
Hallingdal fiddle) can rightly give its wild, extraordinary melody. Most
beautiful are the flowers of remembrance which the Christian antiquity
exhibits, and the eternal snow upon the crowns of the ancient mountains
is not more imperishable than these innocent roses at their feet. So
long as Gausta stands, and the Rjukan sings his thunder-song, will the
memory of Mari-Stien live, and his tales of joy and sorrow be told; so
long as the ice-sea of Folgefond rests over his silent, dark secrets,[1]
so long will the little island become green, of which it is said, that
it is eternally wetted with the tears of true love.

Be it who it may--they who write with their own life, song and legend,
who express the depths of being by the silent but mighty language of
deeds--they are the real authors, the first poets of the earth. In the
second rank stand those who relate that which the others have lived.

When the day's work was over, and Mrs. Astrid had again betaken herself
to her chamber after her slight evening meal, it gave Harald great
pleasure to read aloud or to relate histories to Susanna, whilst she
sewed, or her spinning-wheel hummed often in lively emulation of Larina
and Karina, and whilst the flames of the fire danced up the chimney, and
threw their warm joyous gleams over the assembled company. It pleased
Harald infinitely to have Susanna for his auditor, to hear her
exclamation of childish terror and astonishment, or also her hearty
laughter, or to see her tears over his now merry and now sorrowful
tales.

How deeply was Susanna's heart touched by the relation of Mari-Stien,
whose path over the mountain on the edge of the abyss of Rjukan-force,
which in these days the traveller treads with dread, was discovered by a
young girl guided by the courage of love. It was by this path that the
beautiful Mary of Vestfjordal went with light and firm foot to meet the
friend of her childhood and her beloved, Ejstein Halfvordsen. But the
avarice of her father separated them, and Mary's tears and prayers
obliged Ejstein to fly, in order to escape the schemes of a treacherous
rival against his life. Years passed on, and Mary remained steadfast in
her faith. Her father died. Ejstein had, by his bravery and his
magnanimity, made his former enemy his friend, and the lovers were now
about to meet after a long separation, never again to be divided.
Ejstein hastened by the shorter road of the Mari-Stien to meet his
beloved. Long had she awaited him. She saw him coming, and his name
escaped her with a cry of joy. He saw her--stretched forth his arms, as
his whole soul, eagerly towards her, and he forgot--that he had no
pinions. He fell, and the Rjukan swallowed him in its foaming depths.
For many years after this there wandered daily upon Mari-Stien, a pale
figure, whose beautiful features spoke of silent insanity, and stood
bent down over the stream, and seemed to talk with some one down in its
depths. With melancholy joy in her countenance returned she ever from
her wandering, and said to her people in the cottage, "I have spoken
with him, and he besought me to come to him every day, and to tell him
how I love. It would be wrong to refuse him this; he is so good and
loves me so truly."

Thus went she, even when the wind blew her silver hair around her
wrinkled cheeks; thus she went until a merciful voice called the weary
wanderer to ascend the path of heaven to rest and joy, in the arms of
the beloved.

Less mournful, but not the less interesting for Susanna, was the old
legend of Halgrim.

Stormannadauen (the Black Death) had raged through Norway, and cut off
more than two-thirds of its population, and desolated whole extents of
country and large populous districts. In Uldvig's Valley, in Hardanger,
a young peasant of the name of Halgrim alone, of all the people who had
died there, remained alive. He raised himself from the sick bed on which
he lay surrounded by the dead, and went out in order to seek for living
people.

It was spring, and the larks sang loud in the blue clear air; the
birch-wood clothed itself in tender green; the stream, with its melting
snow-drifts, wound down the mountains singing on its way; but no plough
furrowed the loosened earth, and from the heights was heard no wood-horn
calling the cattle at feeding time. All was still and dead in the
habitations of men. Halgrim went from valley to valley, from cottage to
cottage; everywhere death stared him in the face, and he recognised the
corpses of early friends and acquaintance. Upon this, he began to
believe that he was alone in the world, and despair seized on his soul,
and he determined also to die. But as he was just about to throw himself
down from a rock, his faithful dog sprang up to him, caressed him, and
lamented in the expressive language of anguish. Halgrim bethought
himself, and stepped back from the brink of the abyss; he embraced his
dog; his tears flowed, and despair withdrew from his softened heart. He
began his wandering anew. Thoughts of love led him towards the parish of
Graven, where he had first seen and won the love of Hildegunda.

It was evening, and the sun was setting as Halgrim descended into the
valley, which was as still and dead as those through which he had
wandered. Dark stood the fir-trees in the black shadow of the rocky
wall, and silently rolled on the river between the desolate banks. On
the opposite side of the river a little wooded promontory shot out into
the blue water, and upon the light green tops of the birch-trees played
the last rays of the sun.

Suddenly it seemed to Halgrim as if a light smoke rose up from among the
trees. But he trusted not his eyes; he stared upon it breathlessly. He
waited however hardly a second, when he saw a blue column curling slowly
upwards in the peaceful evening air. With a cry of joy Halgrim darted
forwards, waded through the stream, and soon stood on its opposite
shore. Barking and whining his dog ran onwards to the cottage whence the
smoke ascended. Upon its hearth clearly burned the fire, and a young
maiden stepped forward to the door--one cry of inexpressible joy, and
Halgrim and Hildegunda lay in each other's arms! Hildegunda was also the
only living person in her valley after the terrible visit of the Black
Death.

On the following day, after mutual agreement, they went to church, and
as there was no priest to marry them, and nobody to witness the
plighting of their faith, they stepped alone together to God's altar,
and extended to each other a hand, whilst Halgrim said with a solemn
voice, "In the name of God the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost!"

And God blessed the faith plighted in His name. From this happy pair
descended generations who peopled anew this region, and the names of
Halgrim and Hildegunda are to this day in use among its inhabitants.

       *       *       *       *       *

Through Harald also was Susanna made acquainted with the legends of the
kings of Norway; with the deeds of Olaf Haraldsen, the blood-baptizer;
with those of the noble Olof Tryggveson; and with admiration heard she
of king Sverre, with the little body and the large truly-royal soul. It
flattered also somewhat her womanly vanity to hear of women as
extraordinary in the old history of Norway; as for example, the proud
peasant's daughter, Gyda, who gave occasion to the hero-deeds of Harald
Haarfager, who first made Norway into a kingdom; and although the action
of Gunild, the king's mother, awakened her abhorrence, yet it gave her
pleasure to see how a woman, by the supremacy of her mind, governed
seven kings and directed their actions.

Darker pictures were presented by the citizen-wars, which hurried
"blood-storm upon blood-storm" through the land, and in which it at
length "bled liberty to death."

Now the wild strawberry blooms in the ruins of former strongholds, and
upon blood-drenched fields grow golden forests,

  As the scar groweth o'er the healed wound.--TEGNER.

A milder generation lived in the place of the "Bloody Axe,"[2] and
looked serenely and hopefully towards the future, whilst in their
peaceful, beautiful valleys, they listened willingly to the memories of
the old times.

  Upon the hill-tops stands the ancient stone,
  Where legend hovers like a singing lark,
  With morning brightness on its downy breast.

  VELHAVEN.

One subject of conversation and of dispute also between Harald and
Susanna, was their pale lady. As soon as the discourse turned to her,
Harald assumed a very grave demeanour, and replied only to Susanna's
earnest inquiries of what he knew about her, "she must have been very
unfortunate!" If, however, Susanna began to assail him with questions
about this misfortune, in what it consisted, whether one could not help
her in some way or other--Susanna would have gone up and down the world
for this purpose--then began Harald to tell a story.

Tales of women, powerful and distinguished in their valleys, are not
rare in Norway. The story of the lady in Hallingdal, called the
Shrieking Lady, is well known, who was so magnificent that she was drawn
by elks; one hears of the rich Lady Belju, also of Hallingdal, who built
Naes church, and by means of fire and butter split the Beja rock, so
that a road was carried over it, which road is called to this day the
Butter Rock. One hears tell of the Ladies of Solberg and Sköndal, of
their great quarrel about a pig, and of the false oath which one of them
swore in the lawsuit which thence ensued; and to every one of these
ladies belongs the story, that the preacher did not dare to have the
church-bells rung until the great lady had arrived there.

They tell further the history of the wife of the knight Knut Eldhjerna,
who, from grief for the criminal lives of her seven sons, retired from
the world, and lived as a hermit in a lonesome dale, where, by fasting
and alms, she endeavoured to atone for the misdeeds of her children.
Yes, indeed, there are many histories of this kind. But as concerns the
history which Harald related to Susanna, of Mrs. Astrid, its like had
not yet been heard in the valleys of Norway. There occurred in it so
many strange and horrible things, that the credulous Susanna, who during
it had become ever paler and paler, might have been petrified with
horror if, precisely at the most terrible part of the catastrophe, the
suspicion had not suddenly occurred to her, that she was horrifying
herself--at a mere fiction! And Harald's countenance, when she expressed
her conjectures, made this certainty; and the hearty laughter with which
he received her exclamations and reproaches excited her highest
indignation, and she rose up and left him, with the assurance that she
never again would ask him anything, never believe a word that he said.

This lasted till--the next time. Then if Harald promised to tell the
truth as regarded their lady--the whole pure truth, then Susanna let
herself be befooled, listened, grew pale, wept, till the increasing
marvels of the story awoke afresh her suspicion, which she again plainly
expressed as before, and again Barbra stood up, scolded, threatened,
banged the door after her in anger, and Harald--laughed.

In one point, however, Harald and Susanna always perfectly agreed, and
that was in serving their lady with the greatest zeal; and this, without
themselves being aware of it, increased their esteem for each other,
which, however, by no means prevented their boldly attacking each other,
and slandering--he Sweden, she Norway.

Thus, amid perpetual alternations of strife and peace, slid away the
autumn months unobserved, with its darkening days and its increasing
cold; and the season came, in which important business demanded the time
of the ladies, as well in great as in small houses; the time for lights
and tarts, dance, play, and children's joy, in one word--

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Several districts, wicked as Sodom and Gomorrah, are said to be
buried under the gigantic pall, and it is related that people have heard
the cock crow below the snow covering. If the sun appears above the
Fond, it is believed that swarms of innumerable birds of all colours,
white, black, green, yellow, and red, are seen flying up and down over
the snowy sea. It was thought in early times, that these were the souls
of the wicked inhabitants of the valley which swarmed about here in the
shapes of birds.--FAYE.

[2] Eric, king of Norway, so called because of his cruelty.




CHRISTMAS.

  Come hither little birds, merry of mood,
  By barn-door and dwelling-house corn ears are strewed;
      Christmas comes hither,
      Then may ye gather,
  Food from the bread-giving straw, golden hued.

  BJERREGAARD.

     The sun shall warm and illumine the whole earth, therefore is the
     earth glad of his coming.--THE KING'S PLAY.


Thanks be to God for the sun! So many friends, so many joys, desert us
during our pilgrimage through life; the sun remains true to us, and
lights and warms us from the cradle to the grave. This is it which
unites the Pagan and the Christian in one common worship, inasmuch as it
lifts the hearts of both to the God who has created the sun. The highest
festival of the year among the Northern Heathens and Christians occurs
also at the season in which the sun, as it were, is born anew to the
earth, and his strength is converted from waning to waxing. With the
greatest cordiality is this festival celebrated in the Scandinavian
countries. Not alone in the houses of the wealthy blaze up fires of joy,
and are heard the joyful cries of children; from the humblest cottages
also resounds joy; in the prisons it becomes bright, and the poor
partake of--plenty. In the country, doors, hearths, and tables, stand
open to every wanderer. In many parts of Norway the innkeeper demands no
payment from the traveller either for board or lodging. This is the time
in which the earth seems to feel the truth of the heavenly words--"It is
more blessed to give than to receive." And not only human beings, but
animals also, have their good things at Christmas. All the inhabitants
of the farm-yard, all domestic animals, are entertained in the best
manner; and the little birds of heaven rejoice too, for at every barn a
tall stake raises itself, on the top of which rich sheaves of oats
invite them to a magnificent meal; even the poorest day-labourer, if he
himself possesses no corn, asks and receives from the peasant a bundle
of corn, raises it aloft, and makes the birds rejoice beside his empty
barn.

Susanna had much to care for in the Christmas week, and was often up
late at night: in part, on account of her own business; in part, on
account of some Christmas gifts with which she wished to surprise
several persons around her. And this certainly was the cause of her
somewhat oversleeping herself on the morning of Christmas-eve. She was
awoke by a twittering of birds before her window, and her conscience
reproached her with having, amid the business of the foregoing day,
quite forgotten the little birds, to which she was accustomed to throw
out upon the snow, corn and bread crumbs; and they were now come to
remind her of it. Ah! were but all remembrances like to the twittering
of birds! With real remorse for her forgetfulness Susanna hastened to
dress herself, and to draw aside the window-curtain. And behold!
outside, before her window, stood a tall slender fir-tree, in whose
green top, cut in the form of a garland, was stuck a great bunch of
gold-yellow oats, around which great flocks of sparrows and bulfinches
swarmed, picking and chirping. Susanna blushed, and thought "Harald!"
The people in the house answered with smiles to Susanna's questions, the
Steward had, indeed, planted the tree. The Steward, however, himself
appeared as if he were quite a stranger to the whole affair, betrayed
astonishment at the tree with the sheaf of oats, and could not conceive
how it had come there.

"It must," said he, "have shot forth of itself during the night;" and
this could only be proved from the wonderful strength of the excellent
Norwegian earth--every morsel of which is pulverised primary rock. Such
a soil only can bring forth such a miraculous growth.

In the forenoon, Harald went with Susanna into the farm-yard, where she
with her own hands divided oats among the cows; bread among the sheep;
and among the little poultry corn in abundant measure. In the community
of hens was there with this a great difference of character observable.
Some snatched greedily, whilst they drove the others away by force;
others, on the contrary, kept at a modest distance, and picked up well
pleased the corn which good fortune had bestowed upon them; others,
again, seemed to enjoy for others more than for themselves. Of this
noble nature was one young cock in particular, with a high comb, and a
rich cape of changeful gold-coloured feathers, and of a peculiarly proud
and lofty bearing; he gave up his portion to the hens, so that he had
scarcely a single grain for himself; regarding, however, the while, with
a noble chanticleer-demeanour the crowd which pecked and cackled at his
feet. On account of this beautiful behaviour, he was called the Knight,
by Susanna, which name he always preserved after that time. Among the
geese, she perceived with vexation that the grey one was still more
oppressed and pecked at by his white tyrant than ever. Harald proposed
to kill the grey one; but Susanna declared warmly, that if either of the
rivals were sacrificed it must be the white one.

In a house where there are no children, where neither family nor friends
assemble, where the mistress sits with her trouble in darkness, there
can Christmas bring no great joy. But Susanna had made preparations to
diffuse pleasure, and the thoughts of it had through the whole week,
amid her manifold occupations, illumined her heart; and, besides, she
was of that kind that her life would have been dark had it not been that
the prospect of always making somebody happy had glimmered like a star
over her path. Larina, Karina, and Petro tasted on this day of the
fruits of Susanna's night-watching; and when it was evening, and Susanna
had arranged the Christmas-table in the hall, and had seen it adorned
with lut-fish,[3] and roast meat, and sweet groats, cakes and butter,
tarts and apples, and lighted with four candles; when the farm-people
assembled round the table with eyes that flashed with delight and
appetite; when the oldest among them struck up a hymn of thanksgiving,
and all the rest joined in with folded hands and solemn voices--then
seemed it to Susanna as if she were no longer in a foreign land: and
after she had joined in with the hymn of the people, she seated herself
at the table as the most joyous, cordial hostess; clinked her glass with
those of men and maid servants; animated even the most colossal passion
for eating, and placed the nicest things before the weak and the timid.

Mrs. Astrid had told Susanna that she would remain alone in her chamber
this evening, and only take a glass of milk. Susanna wished, however, to
decoy her into enjoyment by a little surprise; and had laid the
following little plot against her peace. At the time when the glass of
milk was to be carried in to her, instead of this a very pretty boy,
dressed to represent an angel, according to Susanna's idea of one, with
a crown of light upon his head, should softly enter her room and beckon
her out. So beautiful and bright a messenger the lady would find it
impossible to withstand, and he would then conduct her out into the
great hall, where, in a grove of fir-trees, a table was covered with the
sweetest groats, and the most delicious of tarts, and behind the
fir-trees the people of the house were to be assembled, and to strike up
a song to a well-known air of the country, in praise of their lady, and
full of good wishes for her future life.

Harald, to whom Susanna had imparted her scheme, shook his head over it,
at first, doubtfully, but afterwards fell into it, and lent a helping
hand to its accomplishment, as well by obtaining the fir-trees, as by
fitting out the angel. Susanna was quite charmed with her beautiful
little messenger, and followed silently and softly at his heels, as with
some anxiety about his own head and its glittering crown he tripped
lightly to Mrs. Astrid's chamber.

Harald softly opened the door for the boy. From thence they saw the lady
sitting in an easy-chair in her room, her head bowed upon her hands. The
lamp upon the table cast a faint light upon her black-appareled figure.
The audible movement at the door roused her; she looked up, and stared
for some time with a wild glance at the apparition which met her there.
Then she arose hastily, pressed her hands to her breast, uttered a faint
cry of horror, and sank lifeless to the floor. Susanna pushed her angel
violently aside, and rushed to her mistress, who with indescribable
feelings of anguish she raised in her arms and carried to bed. Harald,
on the contrary, busied himself with the poor angel, who with his crown
had lost his balance, and while the hot tallow ran down over brow and
cheeks broke out into the most deplorable tones of lamentation.

Susanna soon succeeded in recalling her mistress to life; but for a long
time her mind seemed to be confused, and she spoke unintelligible
unconnected sentences, of which Susanna only understood the words,
"Apparition--unfortunate child--death!" Susanna concluded therefore that
the fabricated angel had frightened her, and exclaimed with tears, "Ah,
it was only Hans Guttormson's little fellow that I had dressed up as an
angel in order to give you pleasure!"

Susanna saw now right well how little fortunate had been this thought;
but Mrs. Astrid listened with great eagerness to Susanna's explanation
respecting the apparition which had shook her so much, and at length her
convulsive state passed off in a flood of tears. Susanna beside herself
for grief, that instead of joy she had occasioned trouble to her lady,
kissed, with tears, her dress, hands, feet, amid heartfelt prayers for
forgiveness.

Mrs. Astrid answered mildly, but with excitement: "Thou meant it well,
Susanna. Thou couldst not know how thou wouldst grieve me. But--think no
more about it; never more attempt to give me pleasure. I can never more
be joyful, never more happy! There lies a stone upon my breast which
never can be raised, until the stone shall be laid on my grave. But go
now, Susanna, it is necessary for me to be alone. I shall soon be
better."

Susanna prayed that she might bring her a glass of milk, and Mrs. Astrid
consented; but when she had brought it in she was obliged again to
withdraw, her heart full of anguish. When she came out to Harald she
poured out to him all her pain over the unfortunate project, and related
to him the deep agitation of mind, and the dark, despairing words of her
lady.

At this Harald became pale and thoughtful, and Susanna at that was still
more depressed. To be sure she had yet a little mine of pleasures
remaining, on whose explosion she had very much pleased herself, but
this in the disturbed state of mind produced but little effect. It is
true that Harald smiled, and exclaimed, "The cross!" when a waistcoat
made its appearance out of a wheaten loaf; it is true that he thanked
Susanna and pressed her hand, but he had evidently so little pleasure in
her present, his thoughts were so plainly directed to something else,
that now every gleam of pleasure vanished for Susanna from the Christmas
joy. When she was alone in her chamber, and saw from her window how a
little beam of light proceeded from every cottage in the valley, and she
thought how within them were assembled in confidential circles, parents,
children, brothers and sisters, and friends, then felt she painfully
that she was lonesome in a strange land; and as she remembered how
formerly on this evening she made her little Hulda happy, and how
fortunate her projects had always been, she took out a handkerchief
which had been worn on the neck of the little beloved sister, and
covered it with hot tears and kisses. Great part of the night she passed
on the threshold of her lady's door, listening full of anguish to the
never-ceasing footsteps within. But with the exception of several deep
sighs, Susanna heard no expression of pain which might justify her in
breaking in upon the solitude of her mistress.

We will now turn ourselves to a somewhat more lively picture.

There exists in Norway a pleasant custom, which is called Tura-jul, or
Christmas-turns. In Christmas week, namely, people go out to visit one
another by turns, and then in the hospitable houses is there feasting,
sporting, and dancing. That is called "the Christmas-turns."

And the "turns" extended also to the remote-lying solitary Heimdal. The
pastor of the mother parish, the friendly and hospitable pastor,
Middelberg, had sent an invitation to friends and acquaintances in the
whole neighbourhood, which included also the inhabitants of Semb, to a
feast at the parsonage, on the second day of Christmas.

Mrs. Astrid excused herself, but besought Harald and Susanna to drive
there. It had frozen a few days before, and had freshly snowed, so that
the sledging was excellent, and Harald now again in good humour seemed
disposed to make a little festival of driving Susanna to the parsonage
in a small sledge with jingling bells.

Mrs. Astrid had regained her accustomed manner and appearance, and thus
Susanna was easy as to all consequences of her unfortunate scheme on
Christmas-eve, and could give herself up with a free mind to the
agreeable impressions which the winter-drive offered. And these were
manifold and rich to a person who was so little used to pleasure of any
kind as Susanna, and who, besides this, was of a fresh, open spirit. The
air was so clear, the snow was so dazzling, mountain and woods so
splendid, the horse so spirited, and Harald drove so indescribably well,
the most difficult places being to him mere play-work, that Susanna
exclaimed every now and then, "Oh, how beautiful! Oh, how divine!"

With all this, Harald was uncommonly polite and entertaining. Attentive
in the extreme that Susanna sate comfortably, was warm about the feet,
and so on, laid himself out at the same time to make her acquainted with
all wonders and beauties of the district; besides which he related much
that was interesting of the peculiarities of the neighbourhood, of its
woods, mountains, and kinds of stones, spoke of the primeval mountains
and transition-formations, of that which had existed before the Flood,
and of that which had been formed after it, so that Susanna was
astonished at his great learning, and a feeling of reverence for him was
excited in her mind. It is true that she forgot this for one while, in a
quarrel which suddenly arose between them respecting the sun, which,
according to Harald's assertion, must appear brighter in Norway than in
Sweden, which Susanna contended against most vehemently, and assured him
of exactly the opposite; and about the strata of air, of which Susanna
asserted that they lay in Norway different to Sweden; upon the whole,
however, the drive was harmonious, and in the highest degree
advantageous to Harald's appearance. By his driving, his politeness, and
his learning, he had attained to something quite grand and extraordinary
in Susanna's eyes.

When, after a drive of about six miles, they approached the
parsonage-house, they saw from all sides the little sledges issuing from
the passes of the valleys, and then hastening forward in the same
direction as themselves across the fields of snow. Steaming breath came
from the nostrils of the snorting horses, and merrily jingled the bells
in the clear air. Susanna was enraptured.

No less was she enraptured by the cordiality with which she saw herself
received at the parsonage--she, a foreign serving-maiden--by foreign,
wealthy, and respectable people. Susanna was, besides this, very curious
to see bow things looked, and how they went on, in a respectable
parsonage in Norway; and it was therefore very agreeable to her, when
the kind Madame Middelberg invited her to see the house, and allowed her
to be conducted by her eldest daughter, Thea Middelberg, everywhere,
from the cellar even to the garret. Susanna, after this, felt great
esteem for the arrangements in the parsonage-house; thought that she
could learn various things from it; other things, however, she thought
would have been better according to her Swedish method. Returned to the
company, Susanna found much to notice and much to reflect upon. For the
rest, she was through the whole of this day in a sort of mental
excitement. It seemed to her, as if she saw the picture of comfort and
happiness of which she had sometimes dreamed, here realised. It seemed
to her, that life amid these grand natural scenes and simple manners
must be beautiful. The relationship between parents and children,
between masters and servants, appeared so cordial, so patriarchal. She
heard the servants in the house of the clergyman call him and his wife,
father and mother; she saw the eldest daughter of the house assist in
waiting on the guests, and that so joyously and easily, that one saw
that she did it from her heart; saw a frank satisfaction upon all faces,
a freedom from care, and a simplicity in the behaviour of all; and all
this made Susanna feel quite light at heart, whilst it called forth a
certain tearful glance in her eye.

"Have you pleasure in flowers?" inquired the friendly Thea Middelberg;
and when Susanna declared that she had, she broke off the most beautiful
rose which bloomed in the window and gave to her.

But the greatest pleasure to Susanna was in the two youngest children of
the house, and she thought that the heartful "mora mi" (my mother), was
the most harmonious sound which she had ever heard. And in that Susanna
was right also, for more lovely words than these "mora mi," spoken by
affectionate childish lips, are not in the earth. The little Mina, a
child about Hulda's age, and full of life and animation, was in
particular dear to Susanna, who only wished that the little romp would
have given to herself a longer rest upon her knee. Susanna herself won
quite unwittingly the perfect favour of the hostess, by starting up at
table at a critical moment when the dinner was being served, and with a
light and firm hand saving the things from danger. After this she
continued to give a helpful hand where it was needful. This pleased
much, and they noticed the young Swede with ever kinder eyes; she knew
it, and thought all the more on those who thought of her.

Towards the end of the substantial and savoury dinner, skål was drunk
and songs were sung. Susanna's glass must clink with her neighbours,
right and left, straight before her and crosswise, and animated by the
general spirit, she joined in with the beautiful people's song, "The
old sea-girded Norway," and seemed to have forgotten all spirit of
opposition to Norway and Norwegians. And how heartily did not she unite
in the last skål which was proposed by the host, with beaming and
tearful eyes, "To all those who love us!" and she thought on her little
Hulda.

But now we must go on to that which made this day a remarkable one for
Susanna.

After dinner and coffee were over, the company divided, as is customary
in Norway. The ladies remained sitting on the sofa and in armed chairs
round about, and talked over the occurrences in the neighbourhood,
domestic affairs, and the now happily-concluded Christmas business, and
"yes, indeed!" "yes, indeed!" was often heard among them.

The young girls grouped themselves together in the window, and there was
heard talk of "dress" and "ornament," "heavens, how pretty!" and jest
and small-talk.

In the next room sate the gentlemen together with pipes and politics.

Susanna was near to the open door of this room, and as she felt but
little interest in the subjects that were spoken of in her
neighbourhood, she could not avoid listening to that which was said by
the gentlemen within the room, for she heard how there a coarse voice
was abusing Sweden and the Swedes in the most defamatory manner.
Susanna's blood boiled, and involuntarily she clenched her fist.

"Oh, heavens!" sighed she, "that I were but a man!"

The patriotic burgomaster's daughter burned with desire to fall upon
those who dared to despise her fatherland. She could not hear this
coolly, and almost fearing her own anger she was about to rise and take
another place, but she restrained herself, for she heard a grave, manly
voice raised in defence of that foreign calumniated country. And truly
it was refreshing for Susanna to hear Sweden defended with as much
intelligence as zeal; truly it was a joy to her to hear the assertions
of the coarser voice repelled by the other less noisy, but more powerful
voice, and at length to hear it declaim, as master of the field, the
following lines, which were addressed to his native land on the occasion
of the death of Gustavus Adolphus the Great:

  At once is dimmed thy glory's ray;
  Thy flowery garland fades away.
  Bowed mother! But thy brightness splendid
  Shall never more be ended.
  The grateful world on thee her love will cast,
  Who mother of Gustavus wast![4]

Yes, truly was all this a feeling of delight for Susanna; but the voice
which spoke so beautifully--the voice which defended Sweden--the voice
which called forth the feeling of delight, this voice operated more than
all the rest on Susanna, for it was that of--Harald. Susanna could not
trust her ears, she called her eyes to their assistance, and then, as
she could no longer doubt that the noble defender of her country was
Harald, she was so surprised and so joyful that in the overflowing of
her feelings she might almost have done something foolish, had not at
that very moment one of the elderly ladies of the party come to her, and
led her into a quieter corner of the room, in order to be able there
quietly to question her of all that she wished to know. This lady
belonged to that class (scattered in every country of the world) which
has a resemblance to the parasite growth, inasmuch as it grows and
flourishes by the nourishment which it seeks from the plants on which it
fixes itself. As this lady wore a brown dress, and had brown ribbons in
her cap, we find it very appropriate to call her Madame Brun. Susanna
must now give Madame Brun an account of her family, her home, all her
connexions, why she was come into Norway, how she liked living there,
and so on. In all this Susanna was tolerably open-hearted; but when the
discourse was turned upon her present situation, and her lady, she
became more reserved. On this subject, however, Madame Brun was less
disposed to question than to relate herself.

"I knew Mrs. Astrid," said she, "in our younger days, very well. She was
a very handsome lady, but always rather proud. However, I did not mind
that, and we were right good friends. People told me that I ought to pay
a visit to Semb, but--I don't know--I have never seen her since she has
been so strange. My God, dear friend, how can you live with her? She
must be so horribly gloomy and anxious!"

Susanna replied by a warm burst of praise of her lady, and said, "that
she was always sorrowful, and appeared to be unhappy, but that this only
bound her to her all the more."

"Unhappy!" began Madame Brun again. "Yes, if that were all--but alas!"

Susanna asked in astonishment what she meant.

Madame Brun answered, "I say and think nothing bad of her, and always
defend her, but in any case there is something odd about her. Could you
really believe that there are people wicked enough to speak----to
suspect----a murder?"

Susanna could neither think nor speak--she only stared at the speaker.

"Yes, yes," continued Madame Brun, fluently; "so people say! To be sure
the Colonel, who was a monster, was most guilty in the affair; but yet,
nevertheless, she must have known of it--so people assert. See you--they
had a boy with them, the son of her sister. The mother died, after
having confided her child to the care of her sister and her
brother-in-law. What happens then? One fine day the boy has vanished----
never again comes to light----nobody knows what has become of him; but
his cloak is found on a rock, by the lake, and drops of blood on the
stone under it! The boy had vanished, and his property came in well for
his relations, since the Colonel had gambled away everything which he
and his wife possessed. But our Lord, in his justice, smote the Colonel,
so that for five years he remained lame and speechless, and his wife
never since that has had one joyful day on earth."

Susanna turned pale with emotion, and as zealously as she had before
defended the honour of her native land, now defended she the innocence
of her lady. But in this she was interrupted by the friendly hostess,
who invited her to join the other young people in games and dancing. But
Susanna was so excited by that which she had heard, and longed so much
to be at home with her mistress, for whom, now that she had heard her so
cruelly maligned, she felt more affection than ever; she prayed to be
excused from taking any part in the Christmas games, and announced her
intention of driving home. She wished not, however, to take Harald from
the company, and intended, unfearingly, to drive home alone. She could
drive very well, and should easily find the way.

No, sooner, however, did Harald become aware of her intentions than he
prepared to accompany her; and it was of no avail that Susanna opposed
herself to it. Host and hostess, however, in their cordiality, opposed
warmly their guests leaving them so early, and threatened them with
"Aasgaardsreija," who was accustomed to rage in Christmas time, and
would meet them by the way if they persisted in their unwise resolve.
Notwithstanding this they did so, and were accompanied by their hosts to
the sledge. Susanna thanked them from her moved heart for all their
kindness, promised the amiable Thea that they would see one another
often, and kissed tenderly the little Mina, who hung upon her neck.

Scarcely was Susanna seated in the sledge, and was amid mountains and
woods, than she gave vent to her heart, and related to Harald the story
which she had just heard. And her abhorrence had not been less than was
now Harald's anger at such a shameful calumniation, and at the person
who had exhibited such an evidence of her own dark soul. Yes, he fell
into such a rage with old Madame Brun, and made such threatening
demonstrations against her well-being, and the horse made such violent
springs and plunges, that Susanna endeavoured to lead the conversation
to other subjects. She therefore asked Harald what was meant by
Aasgaardsreija, and why they had threatened her with it.

Harald on this returned to his customary temper, and assured her that
this was by no means to be jested with. "The Aasgaardsreija," said he,
"are the spirits which are not good enough to deserve heaven, and yet
not bad enough to be sent to hell; they consist of tipplers, polite
deceivers--in one word, of all those who from one cause or another have
given themselves to evil. For punishment, therefore, must they ride
about till the end of the world. At the head of the troop rides
Guro-Rysse, or Reisa-Rova, who is to be known by her long train. After
her follows a long numerous band of both sexes. The horses are coal
black, and their eyes flash in the darkness like fire. They are guided
by bits of red-hot iron, ride over land and water, and the halloo of the
riders, the snorting of the horses, the rattling of the iron bits,
occasion a tumult which is heard from far. Whenever they throw a saddle
over a house, there must some one die, and wherever they perceive that
there will be bloodshed or murder, they enter, and seating themselves on
the posts by the door, make a noise and laugh in their sleeve. When one
hears the Aasgaardsreija coming, one must throw oneself on the ground
and pretend that one sleeps. If one does this not, one is carried away
by the troop, and struck down in a fainting-fit in a place far distant
from where one was. People often, after this, are low-spirited and
melancholy all their days. But the virtuous, who throw themselves down
immediately on the approach of the troop, suffer nothing, excepting that
every one of the airy company spits upon him in passing; when the troop
has passed by, then one spits again, and the affair has then no further
consequence."

Harald added that this troop was commonly out at Christmas, and nothing
was more possible than that they themselves might meet it on this very
evening, and in that case Susanna had nothing more to do than to
dismount from the sledge, throw herself with her nose on the ground, and
bury her face in the snow, till the wild herd were gone over.[5]

Susanna declared, it is true, that she had not any faith in the story;
but Harald said so gravely that one of these days she would see that the
affair was true, and Susanna was naturally so inclined to believe in the
marvellous, that she very often, especially in narrow passes of the
valleys, directed her glance to the heights, half fearing, half wishing,
that the black horses, with the fiery eyes and the red-hot bridlebits,
might make their appearance. But she only saw bright stars look down
upon her, now and then dimmed by the Northern lights, which waved their
shining, fleeting veils over the vault of heaven.

Arrived at Semb, she saw the customary faint light in the windows of her
lady. Susanna's heart was affected, and with a deep sigh she said, "Ah,
how wicked this world is! To lay yet stones upon the burden, and to make
misfortune into crime. What, what can we do to shield her from the
attacks of malice?"

"Madame Brun shall at least not spread her lies further," said Harald.
"I will drive to her to-morrow morning, compel her to swallow her own
words, and terrify her from ever letting them again pass her lips."

"Yes, that is good!" exclaimed Susanna, delighted.

"If an accident happens to a child," continued Harald, excitedly, "then
directly to charge those belonging to it with a wilful murder! Can one
imagine anything more shameful or more absurd. No, such snakes, at
least, shall not hiss about the unhappy lady. And to crush them shall be
my business!"

And with this Harald pressed Susanna's hand at parting, and left her.

"And my business," thought Susanna, with tearful eyes, "shall be to love
her and to serve her faithfully. Perhaps, when order and comfort are
diffused more and more around her, when many pleasures daily surround
her, perhaps she may again feel an inclination for life."

FOOTNOTES:

[3] A kind of codfish, which has been soaked in lye for several weeks,
and is a general Christmas dish in Norway and Sweden.

[4] The Battle of Lüzen. By Rein.

[5] The rushing noise and tumult in the air which attends violent
storms, especially in mountain countries, has probably given occasion to
the legend of the Aasgaardsreija. There is no doubt of its having its
origin in heathen times, but it may also have reference to the
procession towards Aasgaard of the heroes who have fallen in battle, or
to the aërial journey of the Nornor and Valkyrior. The legend has taken
its present form under Christianity, in which the old divinities have
been transformed in popular belief into evil powers and servants of the
devil.--FAYE.




QUIET WEEKS.

  When clouds hang heavy on the face of earth,
    And woods stand leafless in their mourning plight,--
    Then gentle sympathy has twofold might,
  And kindness on the social winter's hearth
    Within our hearts the glow of spring's delight.

  VELHAVEN.


Hast thou heard the fall of water-drops in deep caves, where heavily,
and perpetually, and gnawingly, they eat into the ground on which they
fall? Hast thou heard the murmuring of the brook that flows on
sportively between green banks, whilst nodding flowers and beaming
lights of heaven mirror themselves in its waters? There is a secret
twittering and whispering of joy in it. There hast thou pictures of two
kinds of still life, which are different the one from the other as hell
and heaven. Both of them are lived on earth; both of them, at Semb in
Heimdal, were lived through the following months: the first by Mrs.
Astrid, the second by Harald and Susanna, only that sometimes the
wearing drops were blown aside by a favourable breeze, and that
sometimes mud of various kinds made turbid the waters of the dancing
brook.

January passed away with his growing sunshine and his increasing winter
pomp. Waterfalls planted their edges with flowers, palms, grapes--yes,
whole fruit-trees of--ice. The bulfinches, with their red breasts, shone
like hopping flames upon the white snow. The winter bloomed in sparkling
crystals, which were strewn over wood and earth, in the song of the
throstle, in the glittering whiteness of the snow-fields. Timber was
felled in the woods, and songs from Tegnér's Frithof resounded thereto.
People drove in sledges through the valleys, and on snow-skates over the
mountains. There was fresh life everywhere.

The contest at Semb, about Sweden and Norway, had ceased ever since
Christmas. It is true that Harald attempted various attacks upon Swedish
iron, the Swedish woods, and so on, but Susanna seemed not rightly to
believe in their seriousness, and would not on that account take up the
strife; and his last attempt on the Swedish wind fell so feebly, that
Harald determined to let the subject rest, and to look about for some
other matter of contention wherewith to keep himself warm during the
winter.

February and March came on. This is the severest time of a northern
winter. In January it is young, but it becomes now old, and grey and
heavy, especially in cottages, where there is no great provision for the
family. The autumn provision, as well in the house as in the yard, is
nearly consumed. It is hard for hungry children to trail home wood from
the forests, which is to boil for them in their kettle only thin
water-gruel, and not always that.

April came. It is called the spring month, and the larks sing in the
woods. But in the deep valley often prevails then the greatest anxiety
and want. Often then scatters the needy peasant ashes and sand upon the
snow which covers his acres, that it may melt all the sooner, and thus
he may be able to plough up his land between the snow walls which
surround it. Susanna during this month became well known in the cottages
of the valley, and her warm heart found rich material for sympathy and
help.

Harald thought this too good an opportunity to be lost for infusing into
Susanna a horror of himself and his character, and showed himself cold
and immovable to her description of the wants which she had witnessed,
and had a proud ability to say "no" to all her proposals for their
assistance. He spoke much of severity and of wholesome lectures, and so
on; and Susanna was not slow in calling him the most cruel of men,
another "tyrant Christjern," a regular misanthrope; "wolves and bears
had more heart than he had. Never again would she ask him for anything;
one might just as well talk to a stock or a stone!" And Susanna set off
to weep bitter tears. But when she afterwards found that much want was
silently assisted from the hand of the misanthrope; when she found that
in various instances her suggestions were adopted; then, indeed, she
also shed in silence tears of joy, and soon forgot all her plans of
hostile reserve. By degrees, also, Harald forgot his contention in the
subject, the interest of which was too good and important; and before
they were rightly aware of it, they found themselves both busied for the
same purpose in various ways. Susanna had begun by giving away all that
she possessed. As she had now no more to give, she began to give ear to
Harald's views; that for the poor which surrounded them, generally
speaking, direct almsgiving was less needful than a friendly and
rational sympathy in their circumstances, a fatherly and motherly
guardianship which would sustain the "broken heart," and strengthen the
weary hands, which were almost sinking, to raise themselves again to
labour and to hope. In the class which may be said to labour for their
daily bread, there are people who help themselves; others there are whom
nobody can help; but the greater number are those who, through prudent
help in word and deed, can attain to helping themselves, and obtaining
comfort and independence.

Harald considered it important to direct the attention of the people to
the keeping of cattle, knowing that this was the certain way of this
region's advancing itself. And as soon as the snow melted, and the earth
was clear, he went out with labourers and servants, and occupied himself
busily in carrying away from the meadows the stones with which they, in
this country, are so abundantly strewn, and sowed new kinds of grass,
as a source of more abundant fodder; and Susanna's heart beat for joy as
she saw his activity, and how he himself went to work, and animated all
by his example and his cheerful spirit. Harald now also often found his
favourite dishes for his dinner; nay, Susanna herself began to discover
that one and another of them were very savoury, and among these may
particularly be mentioned groat gruel with little herrings. This course,
with which dinners in Norway often begin, is so served, that every guest
has a little plate beside him, on which lie the little white herrings,
and they eat alternately a piece of herring and a spoonful of gruel,
which looks very well, and tastes very good.

Harald, towards spring, was very much occupied with work and workpeople,
so that he had but little time to devote to Susanna, either for good or
bad. But he had discovered that possibly in time he might have a weak
chest, and he visited her, therefore, every morning in the dairy that he
might receive a cup of new milk from her hand. For this, he gave her in
return fresh spring-flowers, or, by way of change, a nettle (which was
always thrown violently into a corner), and for the rest attentively
remarked the occurrences in the dairy, and Susanna's movements, whilst
she poured the milk out of the pails through a sieve into the pans, and
arranged them on their shelves, whereby it happened that he would forget
himself in the following monologue--

"See, that one may call a knack! How well she looks at her work, and
with that cheerful, friendly face! Everything that she touches is well
done;--everything improves and flourishes under her eye. If she were
only not so violent and passionate!--but it is not in her heart, there
never was a better heart than hers. Men and animals love her, and are
well off under her care--Happy the man who--hum!"

Shall we not at the same time cast a glance into Susanna's heart? It is
rather curious there. The fact was, that Harald had,--partly by his
provocativeness and naughtiness, and partly by his friendship, his
story-telling, and his native worth, which Susanna discovered more and
more,--so rooted himself into all her thoughts and feelings, that it was
impossible for her to displace him from them. In anger, in gratitude, in
evil, in good, at all times, must she think of him. Many a night she
lay down with the wish never to see him again, but always awoke the next
morning with the secret desire to meet with him again. The terms on
which she stood with him resembled April weather, which we may be able
the clearest to see on--




A MAY DAY.

  The first time, yes, the first time flings
  A glory even on trivial things;
  It passes soon, a moment's falling,
  Then it is also past recalling.

  The grass itself has such a prime;
  Man prizes most spring's flowery time,
  When first the verdure decks earth's bosom,
  And the heart-leaf foretels the blossom.

  Thus God lets all, however low,
  In "the first time" a triumph know;
  Even in the hour when death impendeth,
  And life itself to heaven ascendeth.

  HENR WERGELAND.


It was in the beginning of May. A heavy shower of rain had just ceased.
The wind sprang up in the south, blew mild and fresh, and chased herds
of white clouds over the brightening heaven.

The court at Semb, which had been desolate during the rain, now began to
be full of life and movement.

Six ducks paddled up and down with great delight in a puddle of water,
bathing and beautifying themselves.

The chanticleer, called the Knight, scratched in the earth, and
thereupon began to crow merrily, in order to make it known that he had
something nice to invite to, and as two neat grey-speckled hens sprang
towards him, he let first one grain of corn and then another fall out of
his beak, of which, agreeably to a clever hen-instinct, they availed
themselves without ceremony or compliments. How easily the creatures
live!

The turkey-cock was in great perplexity, and had a deal of trouble to
keep his countenance. His white lady had accepted the invitation of the
chanticleer (which she probably thought was general), and sprang forward
as fast as she could with her long legs, and stuck her head between the
two hens to have a share of their treat. The knightly young chanticleer
on this, with some surprise and a certain astonished sound in his
throat, drew himself a little proudly back, but for all that was too
much of the "gentleman" to mortify, in the least, the foreign
presumptuous beauty. But the grey-speckled hens turned their backs upon
her. Her neglected spouse gobbled in full desperation, and swelled
himself out, his countenance flaming with anger, by the side of his
black wife, who was silent, and cast deprecating eyes up to heaven.

By the kitchen-wall, the black cat and her kittens romped amid a
thousand twists and turns; whilst above them the mice, in the
waterspout, peeped peeringly and curiously forth, drank of the
rain-water, snuffed in the fresh air, and afterwards crept quietly again
under the house tiles.

The flies stretched their legs, and began to walk about in the sunshine.

In the court stood a tall ash, in whose top waved a magpie nest. A many
magpies, candidates for the airy palace, made their appearance there,
flew screaming round about, wished to get possession of it, and chased
one another away. At length two remained as conquerors of the nest.
There laughed they and kissed under the spring-blue heaven, rocked by
the south wind. Those that were chased away consoled themselves by
fluttering down upon the yard-dog's provision-trough, and plucking out
of it, whilst the proud Alfiero, sitting outside his kennel,
contemplated them in dignified repose.

The starlings struck up their quaver, and sent forth their melodious
whistling, whilst they congregated together on the edge of the roof.

The grapes shook from themselves the rain-drops in the wind, and the
little stellaria, which is so dear to the singing birds, raised again
its head to the sun, and was saluted by the jubilant song of the lark.

The geese waddled, gabbling over the grassy fields, biting the young
green herbage. In this way, a change was revealed, which had taken place
in the company. The bully, the white gander, had by accident become
lame, and had with this lost his power and his respect. The grey gander
had now an opportunity of exhibiting a beautiful character, a noble
disposition; but no! The grey gander showed nothing of that; but as the
white gander had done to him, did he now in return; stretching out his
neck against him, and keeping him at a distance with cries and blows;
and the geese-madams troubled themselves not about it, and the white
gander must now think himself well off to see his rival ruling the
assembly, whilst he himself crept behind, hapless and forsaken. Susanna,
who saw this, lost now all regard for the grey gander, without having
any higher respect for the white one. She found the one no better than
the other.

Just now Susanna returned from a visit to a peasant's cottage, where
some time ago she had helped the wife to set up a piece of weaving, and
now had been assisting her in taking it down, and her countenance beamed
with pleasure at the scene which she had witnessed there. The cow had
calved there that same morning, and the milk ran in foaming and abundant
streams, to the unspeakable joy of four small pale boys, who now were
divided in their joy over this, and their admiration of the little,
lively, black-and-white spotted calf; which admiration, however, in the
mind of the youngest, was mixed with fear. The web, also, had turned out
beyond expectation: Susanna helped the housewife to cut out the piece of
cloth in the most advantageous manner, and her cheerful words and
cordial sympathy were like the cream to the milk breakfast. It was with
this glad impression on her soul, that Susanna entered the court at
Semb, and was saluted by Alfiero and all the poultry with great joy. In
the mean time she heard the cries and lamentations of birds, and this
led her to the orchard. Here she saw a pair of starlings, which with
anxiety and screams were flying about the lowest branches of an oak. In
the grass below, something black was hopping about, and Susanna saw that
it was a young starling, which had ventured itself too early out of the
nest and had fallen down. It now raised its weak cries to its parents,
which, as it appeared, sought by their fluttering to keep at a
respectful distance a grey cat, whose greedy eyes gleamed forth from
under a hawthorn-bush. Susanna drove away the cat, and took up and
warmed the little bird in her breast. But this did not at all pacify the
starling papa and mamma; their uneasiness seemed rather to increase.
Susanna would gladly from her heart have allayed it; but when she looked
up and saw the starling nest high up in the oak trunk, many ells above
her head, she was quite in despair. With that the noon-day bell rang;
Alfiero howled to it in his tragical manner, and Harald, at the head of
his workpeople, returned from the field. Susanna hastened to ask counsel
from him, and showed him the young one. "Give it here," said Harald, "I
will twist its neck, and so we can have a nice little roast for dinner."

"No! can you be so cruel?" replied Susanna.

Harald laughed without answering, looked up to the oak to see where the
starling nest was, and swung himself with great agility up the tree.
Standing now upon the lowest boughs, he bent himself down to Susanna,
and said, "Give it here to me, I will manage it." And Susanna now gave
him the bird, without any further remark. Lightly and nimbly sprang
Harald now from bough to bough, holding the bird in his left hand, and
accompanied by the crying starling-parents, who flew terrified around
his head. It was certainly a surprise to them when the young one was
placed uninjured in the nest, but it was no longer so for Susanna; and
as Harald, glowing and warm, sprang down from the tree, he was received
by Susanna's most friendly glances and cordial thanks.

At this moment came several travelling tradespeople with their packs
into the court, and were observed by Harald, who said that he had some
little purchases to make, and besought Susanna's advice. Susanna was a
woman, and women give advice willingly. Always good, of course!

After some time Harald had made various purchases, and had always asked
counsel of Susanna, who thereby felt herself somewhat flattered, but
could not help thinking the while of Harald "yet he must be a regular
egotist. He always thinks about himself, and always buys for himself,
and never anything for his sister, of whom he, however, talks so much,
and seems to love so well! But--the Norwegian men, they love themselves
most!"

And this time it did not seem without reason that Susanna thought so,
for it was terrible how thoughtful Harald was for himself, and what a
deal he needed for this self.

This piece of damask he would have for his table; this muslin for his
curtains; these pocket-handkerchiefs for his nose; and so on.

Susanna could not avoid saying, on purpose to try him, when they came to
a handsome piece for a dress--

"How pretty that is! Certainly that would become your sister very
nicely!"

"What? my sister!" returned Harald. "No; it is best that she clothe
herself. This is exactly the thing that I want for my sofa. One is
always nearest to oneself. One must care a little for oneself."

"Then care you for yourself! I have no time!" said Susanna, quite
excited, as she turned her back upon him and his wares, and went.




SPRING FEELINGS.

  Heaven has strewn thoughts o'er the sweet vernal dale,
  These on the hearts of the flowers bestowing,
  Therefore, when open the chalices glowing,
  Whispers each petal a secret tale.

  VELHAVEN.

May strides on, and June approaches. From their nests in the airy,
leaf-garlanded grottoes, which mother nature has prepared for them in
the lofty oaks and ashes, the starlings send their deep, lively
whistlings, their love-breathing trills. Song and fragrances fill the
woods of Norway. Rustic maidens wander with their herds and flocks up to
the Säter dales, singing joyously:

  To draw to the Säter is good and blessed.
    Come, Böling[6] mine!
  Come cow, come calf, come greatest and least;
    To the Queen your steps incline.

The labour of the spring was closed; the harvests ripened beneath the
care of heaven. Harald had now more leisure, and much of this he devoted
to Susanna. He taught her to know the flowers of the dale, their names
and properties; and was as much amused at her mangling of the Latin
words, as he was charmed at the quickness with which she comprehended
and applied their economical and medicinal uses.

The dale and its beauties became to her continually more known and
beloved. She went now again in the morning to the spring, where the
ladies-mantle and the silver-weed grew so luxuriantly, and let the
feathery creatures bathe and rejoice themselves. On Sunday afternoon,
too, she sometimes took a ramble to a grove of oaks and wild
rose-bushes, at the foot of the mountain called Krystalberg, which in
the glow of the evening sun glittered with a wonderful radiance. She was
sometimes followed thither by Harald, who related many a strange legend
of Huldran, who lived in the mountain; of the dwarfs who shaped the
six-sided crystals, called thence dwarf-jewels; of the subterranean
world and doings, as these were fashioned in the rich imagination of
ancient times, and as they still darkly lived on, in the silent belief
of the northern people. Susanna's active mind seized on all this with
the intensest interest. She visioned herself in the mountain's beautiful
crystal halls; seemed to hear the song of the Neck in the rushing of the
river; and tree and blossom grew more beautiful in her eyes, as she
imagined elves and spirits speaking out of them.

Out of the prosaic soil of her life and action sprang a flower of
poetry, half reality, half legend, which diffused a delightful radiance
over her soul.

Susanna was not the only one at Semb on whom this spring operated
beneficially. The pale Mrs. Astrid seemed to raise herself out of her
gloomy trance, and to imbibe new vigour of life from the fresh vernal
air. She went out sometimes when the sun shone warmly, and she was seen
sitting long hours on a mossy stone in the wood, at the foot of the
Krystalberg. When Susanna observed that she seemed to love this spot,
she carried thither silently out of the wood, turfs with the flowering
Linnea and the fragrant single-flowered Pyrola, and planted them so that
the south wind should bear their delicious aroma to the spot where Mrs.
Astrid sate; and Susanna felt a sad pleasure in the thought that these
balsamic airs would give to her mistress an evidence of a devotion that
did not venture otherwise to show itself. Susanna would have been richly
rewarded, could she at this time have seen into her mistress's soul, and
also have read a letter which she wrote, and from which we present a
fragment.


"TO BISHOP S----.

"Love does not grow weary. Thus was I constrained to say to myself
to-day as your letter reached me, and penetrated me with the feeling of
your goodness, of your heavenly patience! And you do not grow weary of
those who almost grow weary of themselves! And always the same spring in
your hopes--the same mountain-fast, beautiful faith. Ah! that I better
deserved your friendship! But to-day I have a glad word to say to you,
and I will not withhold it from you.

"You wish to know how it is with me? Better! For some time I have
breathed more lightly. Quiet days have passed over me; mild stars have
glanced down upon my head; the waterfall has sung its cradle-song to me
by night, till it has lulled me to sleep, and it has become calmer and
better with me. The spring exerts its beneficent influence upon me. All
rises round me so great, so rich in its life and beauty, I forget myself
sometimes in admiration. It is more than thirty years since I lived in
the country.

"At times, feelings arise in me like vernal gales. I have then
experienced a certain consolation in the thought, that throughout my
long conflict I have yet striven to do right, to endure to the utmost;
that in a world where I have shed so many tears, I have also forborne to
shed many. Sometimes, out of the vernally blue heaven, something falls
on me like a tender glance, an anticipation. But, perhaps, these
brightenings are merely spring flowers, which perish with the spring.

"I go sometimes out. I enjoy sitting in the beautiful grove of oaks down
in the dale, and there, mild and beneficial feelings pass over me. The
breeze bears to me odours ineffably delicious. These odours remind me of
the world of beneficent, healing, invigorating powers which shoot forth
around me, and manifest themselves so silently, so unpretendingly,
merely through their fragrance and their still beauty. I sate there this
evening, at the foot of the mountain. The sun was hastening towards his
setting, but gleamed warmly into the grove. Near me grazed some sheep
with their tender lambs. They gazed at me with a wondering but unalarmed
air; a little bell tinkled clear and softly, as they wandered to and fro
on the green sward; it was so calm and still that I heard the small
insects which hummed in the grass at my feet, and there passed over me I
know not what feeling of satisfaction and pleasure. I enjoyed existence
in this hour like the lambs, like the insects--I can then still enjoy!
Mild, affluent Nature! on thy heart might yet mine--but there stands the
pale, bloody boy,--there stands the murderer, everlastingly between me
and peace of mind! If I could sometimes hear your voice, if I could see
frequently your clear, solace-inspiring glance, I might perhaps yet
teach myself to--look up! But I ask you not to come. Ah! I desire no one
to approach me. But be no longer so uneasy concerning me, my friend, I
am better. I have about me good people, who make my outward life safe
and agreeable. Let your affectionate thoughts, as hitherto, rest upon
me; perhaps they will some time force light into my heart!"

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Böling is the collected flock. Queen is the fold for the night.




MAN AND WIFE.

A FRESH STRIFE.

  And I will show what a fellow I am!
  My master--I am incensed!

  SIFUL SIFADDA.


We have said that Harald, just as little as Griselda's blessed husband,
appeared to like a life which flowed like oil. Perhaps it seemed to him
that his intercourse with Susanna was now assuming this character, and
therefore was it perhaps that, as he could no longer excite her
abhorrence as a misanthropist, one fine day he undertook to irritate her
as a woman-tyrant.

"I am expecting my sister here one of these days," said he one evening
in a disrespectful tone to Susanna; "I have occasion for her, to sew a
little for me, and to put my things in order. Alette is a good, clever
girl, and I think of keeping her with me till I marry, and can be waited
on by my wife."

"Waited on by your wife!" exclaimed Susanna--one may easily conceive in
what a tone.

"Yes, certainly. The woman is made to be subject to the man; and I do
not mean to teach my wife otherwise. I mean to be master in my house,
I."

"The Norwegian men must be despots, tyrants, actual Heathens and Turks!"
said Susanna.

"Every morning," said Harald, "precisely at six o'clock, my wife shall
get up and prepare my coffee."

"But if she will not?"

"Will not? I will teach her to will, I. And if she will not by fair
means, then she shall by foul. I tolerate no disobedience, not I; and
this I mean to teach in the most serious manner; and if she does not
wish to experience this, why then I advise her to rise at six o'clock,
boil my coffee, and bring it me up to bed."

"Nay, never did I hear anything like this! You are the sole--God have
mercy on the wives of this abominable country!"

"And a good dinner," continued Harald, "shall she set before me every
day at noon, or--I shall not be in the best temper! And she must not
come with her 'Fattig Leilighed'[7] more than once a fortnight; and then
I demand that it shall be made right savoury."

"If you will have good eating, then you must make good provision for the
housekeeping," said Susanna.

"That I shall not trouble myself about; that my wife must care for. She
shall provide stores for housekeeping how she can."

"I hope, then," said Susanna, "you will never have a wife, except she be
a regular Xantippe."

"For that we know a remedy; and therefore, to begin with, every evening
she shall pull off my boots. All that is necessary is, for a man to
begin in time to maintain his authority; for the women are by nature
excessively fond of ruling."

"And that because the men are tyrants," said Susanna.

"And besides," continued Harald, "so horribly petty-minded."

"Because," retorted Susanna, "the men have engrossed to themselves all
matters of importance."

"And are so full of caprice," said Harald.

"Because the men," said Susanna, "are so brimful of conceit."

"And so fickle," added Harald.

"Because the men," retorted Susanna, "are not deserving of constancy."

"And so obstinate and violent," continued Harald.

"When the men," said Susanna, "are absurd."

"But I," proceeded Harald, very sharply, "do not like an obstinate,
passionate, imperious woman. It is in general the men themselves who
spoil them; they are too patient, too conceding, too obliging. But in my
house it shall be different. I do not intend to spoil my wife. On the
contrary, she shall learn to show herself patient, devoted, and
attentive to me; and for this purpose I intend to send for my dear
sister. She must not expect that I shall move from the spot for her
sake; she must not----"

At this moment a carriage was heard to drive into the court, and stop
before the door. Harald looked through the window, made an exclamation
of surprise and joy, and darted like an arrow out of the room. Susanna
in her turn looked with anxiety through the window, and saw Harald lift
a lady from the carriage, whom he then warmly and long folded in his
arms, and quitted only to take from her the boxes and packages which she
would bring out, and loaded himself with them.

"Oh, indeed!" thought Susanna, "it is thus then that it stands with his
tyranny:" and satisfied that it was Harald's sister whom she thus
received, she went into the kitchen to make some preparations for
supper.

When she returned to the sitting-room, she found the brother and sister
there. With beaming eyes Harald presented to Susanna--"My sister
Alette!" And then he began to dance about with her, laughing and
singing. Never had Susanna seen him so thoroughly glad at heart.

At supper Harald had eyes only for his sister, whom he did nothing but
wait upon with jest and merriment, now and then playing her, indeed,
some joke, for which she scolded him; and this only seemed to enliven
him still more. Mrs. Astrid had this evening never quitted her room, and
Harald could therefore all the more enjoy himself with Alette. After
supper, he took his seat beside her on the sofa, and with her hand in
his, he reminded her of the days of childhood, and how little they were
then able to endure each other.

"You were then so intolerably provoking," said Alette.

"And you so unbearably genteel and high," said Harald. "Do you remember
how we used to wrangle at breakfast? That is, how I did, for you never
made much answer, but carried yourself so excessively knowingly and
loftily, because you were then a little taller than I."

"And I remember, too, how you sometimes quitted the field, left the
breakfast, and complained to our mother you could not support my genteel
airs."

"Yes, if that had but in the end availed me anything. But I was
compelled to hear, 'Alette is much more sensible than you. Alette is
much more steady than you.' That had a bitter taste with it; but as some
amends, I ate up your confectionary."

"Yes, you rogue you, that you did; and then persuaded me into the
bargain that a rat had done it."

"Ay, I was a graceless lad, good for nothing, conceited, intolerable!"

"And I a tiresome girl, a little old woman, peevish and sanctified. For
every trick you played me I gave you a moral lecture."

"Nay, not one, my sister, but seven, and more than that. That was too
strong for anything!" exclaimed Harald, laughing, and kissing Alette's
hand. "But," continued he, "they were necessary, and well merited. But
I, unworthy one, was rather glad when I escaped from them, and went to
the University."

"Nor was I either at all sorry to have my pincushion and things left in
peace. But when you came home three years later, then the leaf had
turned itself over; then it was otherwise. Then became I truly proud of
my brother."

"And I of my sister. Do you know, Alette, I think you must actually
break off with Lexow. I really cannot do without you. Remain with me,
instead of going with him up into the shivering, cold North, which you
really never can like."

"You must ask Lexow about that, my brother."

Thus continued the conversation long, and became by degrees more serious
and still. The brother and sister seemed to talk of their future, and
that is always a solemn matter, but ever and anon burst forth a hearty
laughter from the midst of their consultations. It went on to midnight,
but neither of them appeared to mark this.

Susanna, during the conversation of the relatives, had retired to the
next room, so as to leave them the more freedom. Her bosom was oppressed
by unwonted and melancholy feelings. With her brow leaned against the
cool window panes, she gazed out into the lovely summer evening, while
she listened to the soft and familiar voices within. The twilight cast
its soft dusky veil over the dale; and tree and field, hill and plain,
heaven and earth, seemed to mingle in confidential silence. In the grass
slumbered the flowers, leaning on each other; and from amongst the
leaves, which gently waved themselves side by side, Susanna seemed to
hear whispered the words, "Brother! Sister!" With an ineffable yearning
opened she her arms as if she would embrace some one--but when they
returned again empty to her bosom, tears of anguish rolled over her
cheeks, while her lips whispered, "Little Hulda!"

Little Hulda, all honour to thy affections, to thy radiant locks; but I
do not believe that Susanna's tears now flowed alone for thee.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] "Fattig Leilighed"--"_poor opportunity_"--is the name given in
merriment to the cooking-up the remains of the week's provisions, which
generally is brought out on a Saturday.




ALETTE.


  I see thine eyes in beauty fling
  Back the tall taper's splendour;
  Yet can still, and clear, and tender,
  Dwell on an angel's wing.

  VELHAVEN.

When Susanna the next morning went in to Alette, to inquire how she
had slept and so on, she found Harald already with his sister, and
around her were outspread the linen, the neckerchiefs, the
pocket-handkerchiefs, the tablecloths, etc., which he told Susanna he
had purchased for himself, but which in reality were presents for his
sister, on the occasion of her approaching marriage. Scarcely had
Susanna entered the room, when to her great amazement the brother and
sister both united in begging her to accept the very handsome dress
which she had once proposed that Harald should buy for his sister. She
blushed and hesitated, but could not resist the cordiality of Harald,
and received the gift with thanks, though glad was she not. Tears were
ready to start into her eyes, and she felt herself poor in more than one
respect. When Harald immediately after this went out, Alette broke forth
into a hearty panegyric upon him, and concluded with these words: "Yes,
one may probably three times a day get angry with him before we can
rightly get to know him; but this is certain, that if he wishes it, you
cannot get clear of him without first loving him." Susanna sate silent;
listened to Alette's words; and her heart beat at once with painful and
affectionate feelings. The call to breakfast broke off the conversation.

Alette was something more than twenty years of age, and had the
beautiful growth, the pure complexion, the fine features, with which
mother Nature seems especially to have endowed her daughters of Norway.
Something fine and transparent lay in her appearance; and her body
seemed merely to be a light garment for the soul, so full of life. Her
manner of action and of speaking had something fascinating in them, and
betrayed happy endowments of nature and much accomplishment. Betrothed
to a wealthy merchant of Nordland, she was to be married in the autumn;
but in the meanwhile came to spend some time with her brother, and with
some other near relatives in Hallingdal.

Susanna felt herself but little at ease with Alette, beside whose fine,
half-ethereal being, she perceived in herself for the first time, an
unpleasant consciousness of being--lumpish.

From the moment of Alette's arrival in Semb, there commenced a change
there. Her charming disposition and great talents made her quickly the
centre round which all assembled. Even Mrs. Astrid felt her influence,
and remained in the evenings with the rest, and took part in the
conversation, which Alette knew how to make interesting. But Mrs. Astrid
herself contributed not the less thereto, when she for hours together,
as it were, forgot herself in the subjects of the conversation, and then
uttered words which gave evidence of a deeply feeling and thinking
spirit. Susanna regarded her with joy and admiration. Yet often a
painful thought seemed to snatch her away from the genial impression,
some dark memory appeared spectre-like to step between her and gladness;
the words then died on her pallid lips, the hand was laid on the heart,
and she heard and saw no more of what was going on around her, till the
interest of the conversation was again able to take hold of her.

There was frequently reading aloud. Alette had a real talent for this,
and it was a genuine enjoyment to hear from her lips, poems of Velhaven
and Vergeland; which two young men, although personal enemies, in this
respect have extended to each other a brotherly hand, because they
sincerely love their native land, and have exhibited much that is
beautiful and ennobling in its literature.

In the mean time, Susanna became continually less at ease in her mind;
Harald no longer, as before, sought her company, and seemed almost to
have forgotten her in Alette. In the conversations, at which she was now
often present, there was much which touched her feelings, and awoke in
her questions and imaginations; but when she attempted to express any of
these, when she would take part and would show that she too could think
and speak, then fell the words so ill, and her thoughts came forth so
obscurely, that she herself was compelled to blush for them; especially
when on this, Alette would turn her eyes upon her with some
astonishment, and Harald cast down his; and she vowed to herself never
again to open her mouth on subjects which she did not understand.

But all this sunk deep into her bosom; and in her self-humiliation she
lamented bitterly the want of a more careful education, and sighed from
the depths of her heart, "Ah! that I did but know a little more! That I
did but possess some beautiful talent!"




AN EVENING IN THE SITTING-ROOM.


  And is it once morning, then is it noon-day,
  For the light must eternally conquer.

  FOSS.

It was a lovely summer evening. Through the open windows of the
sitting-room streamed in the delicious summer air with the fragrance of
the hay, which now lay in swath in the dale. At one table, Susanna
prepared the steaming tea, which the Norwegians like almost as much as
the English; at another sate Mrs. Astrid with Harald and Alette,
occupied with the newly-published beautiful work, "Snorre Sturleson's
Sagas of the Norwegian Kings, translated from the Icelandic of J. Aal."
The fourth number of this work lay before Harald, open at the section
"The Discovery of Vineland." He had just read aloud Mr. Aal's
interesting introduction to the Sagas of Erik Röde and Karlefne, and now
proceeded to read these two Sagas themselves, which contained the
narrative of the _first_ discovery of America, and of which we here give
a brief compendium.

"At the end of the tenth century, at the period when the Northmen sought
with warlike Viking hosts the south, and the Christianity with the
Gospel of Peace made its way towards the North, there lived in Iceland a
man of consequence, named Herjulf. His son was called Bjarne, and was a
courageous young man. His mind was early turned towards travel and
adventures. He soon had the command of his own ship, and sailed in it
for foreign lands. As he one summer returned to the island of his
ancestors, his father had shortly before sailed for Greenland, and had
settled himself there. Then also steered Bjarne out to sea, saying, 'He
would, after the old custom, take up his winter's board with his father,
and would sail for Greenland.'

"After three days' sail, a fierce north wind arose, followed by so thick
a fog that Bjarne and his people could no longer tell where they were.
This continued many days. After that they began to see the sun again,
and could discern the quarters of the heaven. They saw before them land,
which was overgrown with wood, and had gentle eminences. Bjarne would
not land there, because it could not be Greenland, where he knew that
they should find great icebergs. They sailed on with a south-west wind
for three days, and got sight of another land, which was mountainous,
and had lofty icebergs. But Bjarne perceived that neither was this
Greenland, and sailed farther, till he at length discovered the land
which he sought, and his father's court.

"On a visit to Erik Jarl in Norway, Bjarne related his voyage, and spoke
of the strange country which he had seen. But people thought that he had
had little curiosity not to have been able to say more about this
country, and some blamed him much on this account. Erik Röde's son Leif,
the descendant of a distinguished line, was filled with zeal at Bjarne's
relation, to pursue the discovery, and purchased of him a ship, which he
manned with five-and-thirty men, and so set out to sea, to discover
this new land. They came first to a country full of snow and mountains,
which seemed to them to be destitute of all magnificence. They then came
in sight of one whose shore was of white sand, and its surface overgrown
with woods.[8] They sailed yet farther westward, and arrived at a
splendid country, where they found grapes and Indian corn and the noble
tree 'Masur.'[9]

"This country[10] they called 'Vineland,' and built a house, and
remained there through the winter, which was so mild that the grass was
but little withered. Moreover, the day and night were of more equal
length than in Iceland or Greenland. And Leif was a tall and strong man,
of a manly aspect, and at the same time wise and prudent in all matters.
After this expedition, he grew both in consideration and wealth, and was
universally called 'The Happy.'

"Amongst the voyages to this new country which followed on that of Leif,
Karlefne's is the most remarkable. But the new colonists were attacked
with heavy sickness; and the peculiar home-sickness of the inhabitants
of the North might perhaps, in part, drive them back from the grapes of
Vineland to their own snowy home: certain it is, that they retained no
permanent settlement in the new country. They were also continually
assaulted by the natives, whom their weapons were not powerful enough to
restrain.

"In the mean time, several Icelandic annalists have recorded that, in
every age, from the time of Leif to that of Columbus, America was
visited by the Northmen. Testimonies and memories of these voyages we
have now only in these relations, and in the remarkable stone called
'Dighton written Rock,' on the bank of Taunton river, in Massachusetts,
and whose ruins and hieroglyphics, at length, in 1830, copied by learned
Americans, corroborate the truth of these relations."

Harald now commented on these figures with great zeal, remarking that,
in Norway, similar ones were yet found engraven on the face of rocks, on
tombstones, etc. "Do you see, Alette," continued he, eagerly, "this
represents a woman and a little child; probably Karlefne's wife, who
bore a son during this visit to Vineland. And this must be a bull; and
in Karlefne's Saga a bull is mentioned, which terrified the natives by
his bellowings; and these figures to the right represent the natives.
This must be a shield, and these Runic letters."

"It requires a right good strength of imagination for all this, my
brother," here interrupted Alette, smilingly, who was not altogether so
patriotic as Harald; "but granted that all this was evidence of the
first discovery of America by our ancestors, what then? What good, what
advantage has the world derived thence? Is it not rather sorrowful to
see that such important discoveries should have been lost, that they
could be obliterated, as if they had never been, and must be made anew?
Had not Columbus, some centuries later, braved both the
narrow-mindedness of men and the yet unmeasured tracks of the ocean, it
is probable that to-day we should know nothing of America, and of these
stones, the traces of our forefathers on this foreign soil."

"But, my dear Alette," exclaimed Harald in astonishment, "is it not then
clear as the sun, that without the Vineland voyages of the Northmen,
Columbus could certainly never have fallen upon the idea of seeking a
land beyond the great ocean? In the time of Columbus, the Northmen
sailed in their Snäckor[11] about all the coasts of Europe; they made
voyages to Spain, and rumours of the Vineland voyages went with them.
Besides--and _this_ is worthy of notice--Columbus himself visited
Iceland a few years prior to his great voyage of discovery; and, as
Robertson says, rather to extend his knowledge of sea affairs than to
augment his property."

"But," said Alette, "Washington Irving, in his 'Columbus,' which I have
recently read, speaks indeed of his voyage to Iceland, but denies that
he derived thence any clue to his great discovery."

"But that is incredible, impossible, after what we here see and hear!
Listen now to what Aal says of the time when Columbus made his sojourn
in Iceland: 'In Iceland flourished then the written Sagas, and the
various Sagas passed from hand to hand in various copies, serving then,
as now, but in a higher degree, to shorten the winter evenings. Our old
manuscript Sagas thus certainly kindled a light in his dim conceptions;
and this must have so much the more brought him upon the track, as it
was nearer to the events themselves, and could in part be orally
communicated by those who were the direct lineal descendants of the
discoverers.'

"Is not this most natural and essential? Can you doubt any longer,
Alette? I pray you convert and improve yourself. Convert yourself from
Irving to Aal."

"I am disposed to take Harald's side," said now Mrs. Astrid, with a
lively voice and look. "Great, and for mankind, important discoveries
have never occurred without preparatory circumstances, often silently
operating through whole centuries, till in a happy moment the spirit of
genius and of good fortune has blown up the fire which glowed beneath
the ashes, into a clear, and for the world, magnificent flame. Wherever
we see a flower we can look down to a stem, to the roots hidden in the
earth, and finally look to a seed, which in its dark form contained the
yet undeveloped but living plant. And may not everything in the world be
regulated by the same law of development? In the tempestuous voyages of
the Northmen through the misty seas, I could see the weather-driven seed
which, under the guidance of Providence, from the soil of Vineland,
stretched its roots through centuries, till a mighty genius was guided
by them to complete the work, and to the Old World to discover the New."

Harald was delighted with this idea, which blew fresh wind into his
sails; and thereby enlivened, he gave vent to the admiration of the
ancient times of the North, which lived in his bosom.

"It belonged," said he, "to those men of few words but of powerful
deeds; those men to whom danger was a sport, the storm music, and the
swell of waves a dance: to this race of youths it belonged to discover
new worlds without imagining that to be any exploit. Great achievements
were their every-day occupation."

Alette shook her beautiful head at this enthusiasm for antiquity. She
would not deny these times had a certain greatness, but she could not
pronounce them truly great. She spoke of the revenge, the violence, the
base cruelties which the past ages of the North openly paid homage to.

"But," continued Harald, "the contempt of pain and death, this noble
contempt, so universal amongst the men of that time, deprived cruelty of
its sting. Our degenerate race has scarcely a conception of the strength
which made the men of past times find a pleasure even in pains, since
they spurred their courageous souls to the highest pitch of heroism;
since in such moments they felt themselves able to be more than men.
Therefore sung heroes amid the very pains of death. Thus died the
Swedish Hjalmar, in the arms of his friend Odd, the Norwegian, while he
greeted the eagles which came to drink his blood. Thus died Ragnar
Lodbrok, in the den of serpents; and while the snakes hissing, gnawed
their way into his heart, he sung his victories, and concluded with the
words--

  Gone are the hours of existence!
  Smiling shall I die.

"How noble and admirable is this strength, amid torments and death! Could
we but thus die!"

"But the rudest savages of America," said Alette, "know and practise
this species of heroism; before me floats another ideal, both of life
and death. The strong spirit of past ages, which you, my brother, so
highly prize, could not support old age, the weary days, the silent
suffering, the great portion of the lot of man. I will prize the spirit
which elevates every condition of humanity; which animates the dying
hero to praise, not himself, but God, and die; and which to the lonely
one, who wanders through the night of life towards his unnoticed grave,
imparts a strength, a peace, and enables him in his darkness to triumph
over all the powers of darkness. Ah! I who deeply feel myself to be one
of the weak ones in the earth, who possess no single drop of Northern
heroic blood; I rejoice that we can live and die in a manner which is
noble, which is beautiful, which requires not the Berserker-mood, and of
which the strongest spirit need not be ashamed. Do you remember, my
brother, 'The old poet' of Rein? This poem perfectly expresses the tone
of mind which I would wish to possess in my last hour."

Harald recollected but faintly "The old poet," and both he and Mrs.
Astrid begged Alette to make them better acquainted with him. Alette
could not remember the whole of the poem, but gave an account of the
most essential of its contents in these words--

"It is spring. The aged poet wanders through wood and mead, in the
country where he once sung, where he had once been happy, amongst those
whom he had made glad. His voice is now broken; his strength, his fire,
are over. Like a shadow of that which once he was, he goes about in the
young world still fresh with life. The birds of spring gather around
him, welcome him with joy, and implore him to take his harp and sing to
it of the new-born year, of the smiling spring. He answers--

  O ye dear little singer quire,
  No more can I strike the harp with fire;
  No more in youth is renewed my spring;
  No more the old poet can gaily sing;
  And yet I am so blest--
  In my heart is heavenly rest.[12]

"He wanders farther through wood and meadow. The brook murmuring between
green banks, whispers to him its joy over its loosed bands, and greets
the singer as the messenger of spring and freedom:

  Thy harp, my fleet stream fondly haileth--
  It leaps, it exults, it bewaileth;
  Let it sound then--O make no delay!--
  Like me the days hasten away.

"The aged singer replies:

  O spring! which dost leap in thy sheen,
  No more am I what I have been.
  The name of the past I hear alone--
  A feeble echo of days that are flown.
  And yet I am so blest;
  In my heart is heavenly rest.

"He wanders farther. The Dryads surround him in their dance; the Flowers
present him garlands, and beg him to sing their festival; the Zephyrs,
which were wont to play amid his harp-strings, seek in the bushes, and
ask whether he has forgotten them there; caress the old man, and seek
again, but in vain. They are about to fly, but he entreats:

  O dear ones, depart not I pray!
  O flowers, spread with beauty my way!
  My harp is broken, but no sigh
  Spring's spirits gay shall cause to fly.
  And I am still so blest;
  In my heart is heavenly rest.

"He wanders farther, and seeks out every beloved nook. The youth of the
country assemble, and surround the aged singer--'the friend of youth and
gladness.' They entreat him with his music to beautify their festival:

  For spring is dead, with all its pleasure,
  Without the harp and song's glad measure.

"The old man replies:

  Quenched, ye youth, is my fire so wild;
  My evening twilight is cool, but mild;
  And the blissful hours of my youth are brought,
  By your lively songs, into my thought.
  Bewail me not; I am still so blest--
  In my heart lieth heaven's own rest.

"And now he exhorts the songsters of the wood, flowers, youth,
everything that is lovely in nature and in life, to rejoice in its
existence, and to praise the Creator. The beauty and joy of all
creatures are the garland in his silver hair; and grateful and happy,
admiring and singing praises, he sinks softly into the maternal bosom of
Nature."

Alette was silent; a tender emotion trembled in her voice as she uttered
the last words, and beamed in her charming countenance. The tears of
Mrs. Astrid flowed; her hands were convulsively clasped together, whilst
she exclaimed, "Oh thus to feel before one dies! and thus to be
permitted to die!" She drew Alette to her with a kind of vehemence,
kissed her, and then wept silently, leaning on her shoulder. Harald,
too, was affected; but he appeared to restrain his feelings, and gazed
with earnest and tearful eyes on the group before him.

Silently and unobserved stole Susanna out of the room. She felt a sting
in her heart; a serpent raged in her bosom. Driven by a nameless
agonised disquiet, she hastened forth into the free air, and ascended,
almost without being aware of it herself, the steep footpath up the
mountain, where many a time, in calmer moments, she had admired the
beautiful prospect.

Great and beautiful scenes had, during the foregoing conversation,
arisen before her view;--she felt herself so little, so poor beside
them. Ah! she could not once speak of the great and beautiful, for her
tongue was bound. She felt so warmly, and yet could warm no one! The
happy Alette won without trouble, perhaps even without much valuing it,
a regard, an approval, which Susanna would have purchased with her life.
The Barbra-spirit boiled up in her, and with a reproachful glance to
heaven she exclaimed, "Shall I then, for my whole life remain nothing
but a poor despised maid-servant!"

The heaven looked clown on the young maiden mildly, but smilingly; soft
rain-drops sprinkled her forehead; and all nature around her stood
silent, and, as it were, in sorrow. This sorrowing calm operated on
Susanna like the tenderly accusing glance of a good mother. She looked
down into her heart, and saw there envy and pride, and she shuddered at
herself. She gazed down into the stream which waved beneath her feet,
and she thought with longing, "Oh, that one could but plunge down, deep,
deep into these waves, and then arise purified--improved!"

But already this wish had operated like a purifying baptism on Susanna's
soul; and she felt fresh and light thoughts ascend within her. "A poor
maid-servant!" repeated now Sanna; "and why should that be so
contemptible a lot? The Highest himself has served on earth; served for
all, for the very least; yes, even for me. Oh!--" and it became
continually lighter and warmer in her mind.--"I will be a true
maid-servant, and place my honour in it, and desire to be nothing else!
Charm I cannot; beauty and genius, and beautiful talents, I have not;
but--I can love and I can serve, and that will I do with my whole heart,
and with all my strength, and in all humility; and if men despise me,
yet God will not forsake the poor and faithful maid-servant!"

When Susanna again cast her tearful eyes on the ground, they fell on a
little piece of moss, one of those very least children of nature, which
in silence and unheeded pass through the metamorphoses of their quiet
life. The little plant stood in fresh green, on its head hung the clear
rain-drops, and the sun which now shone through the clouds, glittered in
them.

Susanna contemplated the little moss, and it seemed to say to her: "See
thou! though I am so insignificant, yet I enjoy the dew of heaven and
the beams of the sun, as fully as the roses and the lilacs of the
garden!" Susanna understood the speech of the little plant, and grateful
and calmed, she repeated many times to herself, with a species of silent
gladness--"a humble, a faithful maid-servant!"

When Susanna came home, she found Mrs. Astrid not well. She had been
much excited, and on such occasions an attack of the spasms was always
to be apprehended. Susanna begged earnestly, and received the permission
to watch by her to-night; at least, till Mrs. Astrid slept. Mrs. Astrid
had, indeed, another maid with her, but she was old and very deaf, and
Susanna had no confidence in her.

Mrs. Astrid retired to rest. Susanna seated herself on a stool by the
window, silently occupied with her thoughts, and with knitting a
stocking. The window had stood open during the day, and a host of flies
had entered the room. Mrs. Astrid was much disturbed by them, and
complained that they prevented her sleeping. Quietly Susanna laid bare
her white shoulders, neck, and arms, and when the flies in swarms darted
down upon her, and her mistress now left at peace slept calmly, Susanna
sate still, let the flies enjoy themselves, and enjoyed herself thereby
more than one can believe.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Probably Newfoundland.

[9] Probably spotted maple.

[10] Upper Canada.

[11] Snails or cockles, as they called their light craft.

[12] I have not wished to attempt a translation of these verses,
convinced that for the Swedish reader it is not necessary; and why
unnecessarily brush off the golden dust from the butterfly's
wings.--_Fredrika Bremer_.

As, however, the _English reader_ may find it _rather_ more necessary to
give a translation of the Norwegian verses, I have made it, and that as
much in the simplicity of the original as I could.--M. H.




RETREATING AND ADVANCING.

     True delicacy, that most beautiful heart-leaf of humanity, exhibits
     itself most significantly in little things. Those which we in
     general call so, are not by any means so little.

     J. C. LOUS.


It is with our faults as with horseradish; it is terribly difficult to
extirpate it from the earth in which it has once taken root; and nothing
is more discouraging to the cultivator who will annihilate this weed
from his ground, than to see it, so lately plucked up, shooting forth
again freshly to the light from roots which remained buried in the
earth. One can get quite out of patience; with the weedy soil, and one
is, when this soil is one's own dear self, possessed by the most cordial
desire to set off far, far from one's self. But how!!!

Susanna was often conscious of this feeling, as she daily laboured to
repress the excitements which arose up within her at this time. Still
the thoughts and resolutions which awoke within her on the evening just
described, had taken hold upon her too strongly for them to be again
effaced, and with the motto--"a humble and regular servant-girl," she
struggled boldly through the dangers and the events of the day. Her
demeanour was calmer; she quietly withdrew herself from taking part in
conversation which went beyond her education; in a friendly spirit, she
endeavoured to renounce the attentions and interest of others, and
busied herself only in attending to the comforts and pleasures of all,
as well as in accomplishing, and when possible, anticipating every wish.
And such an activity has, more than people imagine, an influence upon
the well-being of every-day life. The affectionate will lends even to
dead things soul and life. But heavy to the ministering spirits is this
life of labour and care for others, where no sunbeam of love, no cordial
acknowledgment, falls upon their laborious day.

In the beginning of August, Harald set off, to return in about fourteen
days with Alf Lexow, the betrothed of Alette. During his absence, Alette
was to pay a visit to her uncle in Hallingdal; but, according to Mrs.
Astrid's wish, she yet spent another week at Semb. During these days,
Alette and Susanna became better friends, for Alette was touched
involuntarily by Susanna's unwearied and unpretending attentions, and
besides this, she found in her such a frank mind and such cordial
sympathy, that she could not deny herself the pleasure of communicating
much of that which lived in the heart of the happy bride. Happy,--indeed
Alette was, for long and warmly had she loved Alf Lexow, and should
shortly be united to him for ever; and yet often stole a melancholy
expression over her charming surface, when the conversation turned to
this marriage and to her removal into Nordland. Susanna asked her
several times of the cause of this, and as often Alette jestingly evaded
the question; but one evening when they had chatted together more
friendly than common, Alette said--

"It is a strange feeling to get everything ready for one's own marriage
in the belief that one shall not long survive it! This removal to
Nordland will be my death, that I know certainly. No, do not look so
terrified! It is in no case so dangerous. And thoughts of an early
death I have long borne in my mind, and therefore I am accustomed to
them."

"Ah!" said Susanna, "those who love and are loved, the happy, should
never die! But why this strange foreboding?"

"I do not know myself!" replied Alette, "but it has accompanied me from
my earliest youth. My mother was born under the beautiful heaven of
Provence, and passed the greater part of her youth in that warm country.
The love of my father made her love in our Norway a second country, and
here she spent the remainder of her life; she never, however, could
rightly bear this cold climate, longed secretly for that warmer land,
and died with the longing. To me has she bequeathed this feeling; and
although I have never seen those orange groves, that warm blue heaven,
of which she so gladly spoke, I drew in from childhood a love to them; I
have, besides, inherited my mother's suffering from cold;--my chest is
not strong, ah!--the long, dark winters of Nordland; the residence on
the sea-shore in a climate which is twice as cold as that to which I
have been accustomed, the sea-mists and storms--ah! I cannot long
withstand them. But Susanna, you must promise me not to say one word of
what I have confided to you, either to Harald or to Lexow!"

"But if they know it," said Susanna, "then you certainly need not go
there. Certainly your bridegroom would for your sake seek out a milder
country----"

"And not feel at home there, and die of longing for his dear Nordland!
No, no, Susanna! I know his love for his native land, and know that this
winterly nature which I dread so much, is precisely his life and his
health. Alf is a Nordlander in heart and soul, and has, as it were,
grown up with the district which his fathers inhabited, and whose
advance and prosperity is his favourite scheme, the principal object of
his activity. No, no! for my sake he shall not tear himself from his
home, his noble efforts. Rather would I, if it must be so, find an early
grave in his Nordland!"

Susanna now desired to know, and Alette communicated to her, various
particulars of the country which was she thought so terrible, and we
will now, with the young friends, cast--




A GLANCE INTO NORDLAND.

  All is cold and hard.

  BLOM.

  The spirit of God yet rests upon Nordland.

  Z.


A great part of Norway has, as it were, its face turned away from life.
"The Old Night," which the ancient world considered to be the original
mother of all things, here held the giant child in her dark bosom, and
bound it tight in swaddling bands, out of which it could not shape
itself to joy and freedom. Neither Nordland nor Finmark see the sun for
many months in the year, and the difficulties and dangers of the road
shut them out from intercourse with the southern world. The spirit of
the North Pole rests oppressively over this region, and when in still
August nights it breathes from hence over southern Norway, then withers
the half-ripened harvests of the valleys and the plains, and the
icy-grey face of hunger stares stiffly from the northern cliffs upon
laborious but unhappy human multitudes. The sea breaks upon this coast
against a palisadoed fence of rocks and cliffs, around which swarm
flocks of polar birds with cries and screams. Storms alternate with
thick mists. The cliffs along this coast have extraordinary shapes; now
ascend they upwards like towers, now resemble beasts, now present
gigantic and terrific human profiles; and one can easily imagine how the
popular belief sees in them monsters and giants turned to stone, and why
their ancestors laid their Jotunhem in this desolate wilderness.

And a dark fragment of Paganism still lingers about this region even to
this day. It is frozen fast into the people's imagination; it is turned
to stone in the horrible shapes of nature, which once gave it life. The
light of the Gospel endeavours in vain to dissipate the shadows of a
thousand years; the Old Night holds them back. In vain the Holy Cross is
raised upon all the cliffs; the belief in magic and magic arts lives
still universally among the people. Witches sit, full of malice, in
their caves, and blow up storms for the sea-wanderers, so that they must
be unfortunate; and the ghost Stallo, a huge man, dressed in black, with
a staff in his hand, wanders about in the wildernesses, and challenges
the solitary traveller to meet him in the contest for life and death.

The Laplander, the nomade of the North, roving free with his reindeer
over undivided fields, appears like a romantic feature in this life; but
it must be viewed from afar. Near, every trace of beauty vanishes in the
fumes of brandy and the smoke of the Lapland hut.

Along the coasts, between the cliffs, and the rocks, and the hundreds of
islands which surround this strand, live a race of fishermen, who,
rivalling the sea-mew, skim the sea. Night and day, winter and summer,
swarm their boats upon the waves; through the whistling tempest, through
the foaming breakers, speed they unterrified with their light sails,
that from the depths of the sea they may catch the silvery shoals of
herrings, the greatest wealth of the country. Many annually are
swallowed up of the deep; but more struggle with the elements, and
conquer. Thus amid the daily contest are many powers developed, many a
hero-deed achieved,[13] and people harden themselves against danger and
death, and also against the gentler beauty of life.

Yet it is in this severe region that the eider-duck has its home; it is
upon those naked cliffs where its nest is built, from feathers plucked
from its own breast, that silky soft down which is scattered abroad over
the whole world, that people in the North and in the South may lie warm
and soft. How many suffering limbs, how many aching heads, have not
received comfort from the hard cliffs of Norway.

Upon the boundaries between Nordland and Finmark lies the city of
Tromsö, the now flourishing centre of these provinces. It was here that
Alette was to spend her life; it was here that affection prepared for
her a warm and peaceful nest, like the eider-duck drawing from its own
breast the means of preparing a soft couch in the bosom of the hard
rock. And after Alette had described to Susanna what terrified her so
much in her northern retreat, she concealed not from her that which
reconciled her so forcibly to it; and Susanna comprehended this very
well, as Alette read to her the following letter:


Tromsö. May 28th.

Were you but here, my Alette! I miss you every moment whilst I am
arranging my dwelling for your reception, and feel continually the
necessity of asking, "How do you wish it? what think you of it?" Ah,
that you were here, my own beloved, at this moment! and you would be
charmed with this "ice and bear land," before which, I know, you
secretly shudder. The country around here is not wild and dark; as, for
example, at Helgoland. Leafy woods garland the craggy shores of our
island, and around them play the waves of the sea in safe bays and
creeks. Our well-built little city lies sweetly upon the southern side
of the island, only divided from the mainland by a narrow arm of the
sea. My house is situated in the street which runs along the large
convenient harbour. At this moment above twenty vessels lie at anchor,
and the various flags of the different nations wave in the evening wind.
There are English, German, and especially Russian, which come to our
coast, in order to take our fish, our eider-down, and so on, in exchange
for their corn and furs. Besides these, the inhabitants of more southern
regions bring hither a vast number of articles of luxury and fashion,
which are eagerly purchased by the inhabitants of Kola, and the borders
of the White Sea. Long life to Commerce! My soul expands at the sight of
its life. What has not commerce done from the beginning of the world for
the embellishment of life, for promoting the friendly intercourse of
countries and people, for the refinement of manners! It has always given
me the most heartfelt delight, that the wisest and most humane of the
lawgivers of antiquity--Solon--was a merchant. "By trade," says one of
his biographers, "by wisdom and music was his soul fashioned. Long life
to commerce! What lives not through it?" What is all fresh life, all
movement, in reality, but trade, exchange, gift for gift! In love, in
friendship, in the great life of the people, in the quiet family circle,
everywhere where I see happiness and prosperity, see I also trade; nay,
what is the whole earth if not a colony from the mother country of
heaven, and whose well-being and happy condition depend upon free export
and import! The simile might be still further carried out, yet--thou
good Giver above, pardon us that we have ventured upon it!

And you must not fancy, Alette, that the great interest for trade here
excludes the nobler and more refined mental culture. Among the thousand
people who inhabit the city, one can select out an interesting circle
for social intercourse. We also have a theatre, and many pleasures of
refined life. I was yesterday at a ball, where they danced through the
whole night, till--daylight. The good music, the tasteful dresses and
lovely dancing of the ladies; but above all, the tone of social life,
the cordial cheerfulness, astonished several foreigners who were
present, and caused them to inquire whether they were really here under
the seventieth degree of latitude?

But the winter! Methinks I hear you say, "in summer it may be well
enough, but in the long, dark winter." Well then, my Alette,
winter--goes on right excellently when people love one another, when it
is warm at home. Do you remember, Alette, last autumn, how we read
together at Christiansand, in the Morning Paper, the following paragraph
from the Tromsö News of the fourteenth of October:

"Already for several days successively have we had snow storms, and at
this moment the snow-plough is working to form a road for the
church-going people. The grave-like stillness of night and winter spread
itself with tempest speed over meadow and valley, and only a few cows
wander now like spectres over the snow-covered fields, to pluck their
scanty fare from the twigs which are not yet snowed up."

That little winter-piece pleased me, but at the expression, "the
grave-like stillness of night and winter," you bowed your loving dear
face, with closed eyes, to my breast. Oh, my Alette! thus shall you do
in future, when dread of darkness and cold seize upon you; and upon my
breast, listening to the beating of my heart and to my love, shall you
forget the dark pictures which stand without before your home. Close
your eyes; slumber beloved, whilst I watch over you, and then you will,
with brightening eyes and blooming cheeks, look upon the night and
winter, and feel that its power is not great. Oh, truly can love, this
Geiser of the soul, smelt ice and snow, wherever they may be on earth;
truly, wherever its warm springs swell forth, a southern clime can
bloom; yes, even at the North Pole itself.

Whilst I write this, I hear music, which makes upon me a cheerful and a
melancholy impression at the same time. They are eight Russians, who
sing one of their national songs, whilst in the quiet evening they sail
down the Tromsö-sound. They sing a quartet, and with the most complete
purity and melody. They sing in a minor key, but yet not mournfully.
They row in the deep shadow of the shore, and at every stroke of the
oars the water shines around the boat, and drops, as of fire, fall from
the oars. The phenomenon is not uncommon on the Atlantic; and know you
not, my Alette, what it is which shines and burns so in the sea? It is
love! At certain moments, the consciousness of the sea-insects rises to
a high pitch of vividness, and millions of existences invisible to the
naked human eye, then celebrate the bliss of their being. In such
moments the sea kindles; then every little worm, inspired by love,
lights up its tiny lamp. Yet only for a moment burns its flame, then all
the quicker to be extinguished. But it dies without pain--dies joyfully.
Rich nature! Good Creator!

My heart also burns. I look upon the illuminated element, which may be
said to be full of enjoyment; I listen to the melody of the singers,
full of joy and pain, and--I stretch forth my arms to you, Alette, my
Alette!

"Oh!" exclaimed Susanna, "how this man loves you, and how you must love
him! Certainly you must live long, that you may be happy together!"

"And if not long," said Alette, "yet for a short time; yes, a short time
I hope to live and to make him happy, to thank him for all his love. And
then----"

Alette stooped down and plucked a beautiful full-blown water-lily which
grew in the river, by whose banks they stood; she showed it to Susanna,
whilst she continued with a pensive smile--

  What more then than this?
  One moment she is
  A friendly ray given,
  From her home's shining heaven;
  Then is she the flame,
  High mid the temple's resounding acclaim--
  One moment like this
  Bears you up through death's sleep into bliss.--MUNCH.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] The stormy winter of 1839 abounded in misfortunes to the fishermen
of Lofodne, but abounded also in the most beautiful instances of heroic
courage, where life was ventured, and sometimes lost, in order to save a
suffering fellow-creature.




THE RETURN.

  To meet, to part;
  The welcome, the farewell;
  Behold the sum of life!

  BJERREGAARD.


Alette set off to fulfil her promise to her uncle in Hallingdal; but in
a few weeks she was again at Semb, in company with Harald and Alf Lexow,
who had fetched her there. Yet this visit could last only for a short
time, for then she had to set out with her bridegroom and her uncle's
family on the journey to Trondhjem, where her marriage was to be
celebrated at the house of a rich and cordial aunt, who had long been
rejoicing in it, and had now for several months been baking and boiling
in preparation for it. Harald also was to accompany them on this
journey.

Alf Lexow was a man in his best years, with an open and generous manner.
His face was small, marked by the smallpox, but otherwise handsome and
full of life and benevolence. He was one of those men whose first glance
attracts one and inspires confidence. Susanna felt great pleasure on
seeing the affectionate, confidential understanding between the
betrothed. She herself also was now happier, because Harald now left
Alette much with her bridegroom, and sought as before for Susanna's
society.

Alette was lively, agreeable, and well-educated; but she liked best to
hear herself talk. So in reality did Harald; and a better listener than
Susanna could nobody have. Contentions occurred no longer; but there was
a something in Susanna which attracted Harald to her more than the
former passion for strife had ever done. He found Susanna's manners
altered for the better; there was in them a something quieter, and, at
the same time, gentler than before; whilst she was now always so kind,
so attentive, and thought of everything which could give pleasure to
others. He saw, at the same time, with what silent solicitude her
thoughts followed Mrs. Astrid, who now, at the approach of autumn--it
was then the end of August--appeared to have relapsed into her dark and
silent mood, out of which she had been aroused for some time. She now
very rarely left her room, except at the hour of dinner.

Harald wished that his sister and brother-in-law elect should witness,
before their departure from the dale, some of the popular assemblings
for games and dancings, and had therefore prepared a rural festival, to
which he invited them and Susanna, and to which we also will now betake
ourselves.




THE HALLING.

  This peculiar, wild, affecting music, is our national poetry.

  HENR WERGELAND.

  The violins ringing;
  Not blither the singing
  Of birds in the woods and the meadows.

  Hurrah! hand round the foaming can--
  Skål for the fair maid who dancing began!

  Skål for the Jente mine! And
  Skål for the Jente thine! And
  Skål for the fathers and mothers on benches!

  NORWEGIAN SONG.


One lovely afternoon in the early part of September were seen two young
festally-attired peasant maidens gaily talking, hastening along the
footpath through the little wood in Heimdal towards a green open space
surrounded by trees, and where might be seen a crowd of persons of both
sexes assembled, all in peasant dresses. Here was the "Leikevold," or
dancing-ground; and as the young girls approached it, the one said to
the other, "It is certain, Susanna, that the dress becomes you
excellently! Your lovely bright hair shines more beautifully than ever,
plaited with red ribbons. I fancy the costume does not suit me half so
well."

"Because you, best Alette, look like a disguised princess, and I in mine
like a regular peasant girl."

"Susanna, I perceive that you are a flatterer. Let us now see whether
Alf and Harald will recognise the Tellemark 'jente' girls."

They did not long remain in uncertainty on this subject; for scarcely
were they come to the dancing-ground, when two peasants in
Halling-jackets, and broad girdles round their waists, came dancing
towards them, whilst they sang with the others the following
peasant-song:

  And I am bachelor, and am not roving;
    And I am son unto Gulleig Boë;
  And wilt thou be to me faithful and loving,
    Then I will choose thee, dear maiden, for me.

Susanna recognised Harald in the young peasant, who thus singing gaily,
politely took her hand, and led her along the lively springing-dance,
which was danced to singing. Alette danced with her Alf, who bore
himself nobly as a Halling-youth.

Never had Susanna looked so well and so happy; but then neither had she
ever enjoyed such pleasure. The lovely evening; the tones of the music;
the life of the dance; Harald's looks, which expressed in a high degree
his satisfaction; the delighted happy faces which she saw around
her--never before had she thought life so pleasant! And nearly all
seemed to feel so too, and all swung round from the joy of their hearts;
silver buckles jingled, and shilling after shilling[14] danced down into
the little gaily painted Hardanger-fiddle, which was played upon with
transporting spirit by an old man, of an expressive and energetic
exterior.

After the first dance, people rested for a moment. They ate apples, and
drank Hardanger-ale out of silver cans. After this there rose an almost
universal cry, which challenged Harald and another young man who was
renowned for his agility and strength, to dance together a "lös
Halling." They did not require much persuasion, and stepped into the
middle of the circle, which enlarged itself, and closed around them.

The musician tuned his instrument, and with his head bowed upon his
breast, began to play with an expression and a life that might be called
inspired. It was one of the wild Maliserknud's most genial compositions.
Was it imagined with the army, in the bivouac under the free nightly
heaven, or in--"slavery," amid evil-doers? Nobody knows; but in both
situations has it charmed forth tones, like his own restless life, which
never will pass from the memory of the people. Now took the
Hardanger-fiddle for the first time its right sound.

Universal applause followed the dancing of the young men; but the
highest interest was excited by Harald, who, in the dance, awoke actual
astonishment.

Perhaps there is no dance which expresses more than the Halling the
temper of the people who originated it, which better reflects the life
and character of the inhabitants of the North.

It begins, as it were, upon the ground, amid jogging little hops,
accompanied by movements of the arms, in which, as it were, a great
strength plays negligently. It is somewhat bear-like, indolent, clumsy,
half-dreaming. But it wakes, it becomes earnest. Then the dancers rise
up and dance, and display themselves in expressions of power, in which
strength and dexterity seem to divert themselves by playing with
indolence and clumsiness, and to overcome them. The same person who just
before seemed fettered to the earth, springs aloft, and throws himself
around in the air as though he had wings. Then, after many break-neck
movements and evolutions, before which the unaccustomed spectator grows
dizzy, the dance suddenly assumes again its first quiet, careless,
somewhat heavy character, and closes, as it began, sunk upon the earth.

Loud shouts of applause, bestowed especially upon Harald, resounded on
all sides as the dance closed. And now they all set themselves in motion
for a great Halling-polska, and every "Gut" chose himself a "Jente."
Harald had scarcely refreshed and strengthened himself with a can of ale
before he again hastened up to Susanna, and engaged her for the
Halling-polska. She had danced it several times in her own country, and
joyfully accepted Harald's invitation.

This dance, too, is deeply characteristic. It paints the Northern
inhabitant's highest joy in life; it is the Berserker-gladness in the
dance. Supported upon the arm of the woman the man throws himself high
in the air; then he catches her in his arms, and swings round with her
in wild circles; then they separate; then they unite again, and
whirl again round, as it were, in superabundance of life and delight.
The measure is determined, bold, and full of life. It is a
dance-intoxication, in which people for the moment release themselves
from every care, every burden and oppression of existence.

Thus felt also at this time Harald and Susanna. Young, strong, agile,
they swung themselves around with certainty and ease, which seemed to
make the dance a sport without any effort; and with eyes steadfastly
riveted on each other, they had no sense of giddiness. They whirled
round, as it were, in a magic circle, to the strange magical music. The
understrings sounded strong and strange. The peculiar enchanted power
which lies in the clear deeps of the water, in the mysterious recesses
of the mountains, in the shades of dark caves, which the skalds have
celebrated under the names of mermaids, mountain-kings, and wood-women,
and which drag down the heart so forcibly into unknown, wondrous
deeps--this dark song of Nature is heard in the understrings[15] of the
Halling's playful, but yet at the same time melancholy, tones. It deeply
seized upon Susanna's soul, and Harald also seemed to experience this
enchantment: Leaving the wilder movements of the dance, they moved
around ever quieter, arm-in-arm.

"Oh, so through life!" whispered Harald's lips, almost involuntarily, as
he looked deep into Susanna's beaming, tearful eyes; and, "Oh, so
through life!" was answered in Susanna's heart, but her lips remained
closed. At this moment she was seized by a violent trembling, which
obliged her to come from dancing, and to sit down, whilst the whole
world seemed going round with her. It was not until she had drunk a
glass of water, which Harald offered to her, that she was able to reply
to his heartfelt and anxious inquiries after her health. Susanna
attributed it to the violent dancing, but declared that she felt herself
again quite well. At that moment Susanna's eyes encountered those of
Alette. She sate at a little distance from them, and observed Harald and
Susanna with a grave, and as it seemed to Susanna, a displeased look.
Susanna felt stung at the heart; and when Alette came to her, and asked
rather coldly how she found herself, she answered also coldly and
shortly.

The sun was going down, and the evening began to be cool. The company
was therefore invited by Harald to a commodious hut, decorated with
foliage and flowers. At Harald's desire, a young girl played now upon
the "langleg,"[16] and sung thereto with a clear lively voice the
Hallingdal song, "Gjetter-livet" (Shepherd-life), which so naïvely
describes the days of a shepherd-girl in the solitary dales with the
flocks, which she pastures and tends during the summer, without care,
and joyous of mood, although almost separated from her kind;--_almost_,
for Havor, the goatherd, blows his horn on the rocks in the
neighbourhood, and ere long sits beside her on the crags--

  The boy with his jew's-harp charms the kine,
  And plays upon the flute so fine,
  And I sing this song of mine.

So approaches the evening, and "all my darlings," with "song and love,"
are called by their names;--

  Come Laikeros, Gullstjerna fine;
  Come Dokkerose, darling mine;
  Come Bjölka, Qvittelin!

And cows and sheep come to the well-known voice, and assemble at the
Säter-hut, lowing and bleating joyfully. Now begins the milking; the
goatherd maiden sings--

  When I have milked in these pails of mine,
  I lay me down, and sleep divine,
  Till day upon the cliffs doth shine.

After the song, the dancing began again with new spirit. An iron hook
was driven into the beam in the middle of the roof, and the dancer who,
during the whirl of the Halling-polska, succeeded in striking it with
his heel, so that it was bent, obtained the prize for dancing this
evening. Observing the break-neck efforts of the competitors, Susanna
seated herself upon a bench. Several large leafy branches which were
reared between the benches and window, prevented her from seeing two
persons who stood in quiet conversation, but she remained sitting, as if
enchanted, as she heard the voice of Alette, saying:

"Susanna is to be sure an excellent and good girl, and I really like
her; but yet, Harald, it would distress me if you seriously were
attached to her."

"And why?" asked Harald.

"Because I think that she would not be suitable for your wife. She has
an unreasonable and violent temper, and--"

"But that may be changed, Alette. She has already changed very much. Of
her violent temper I have no fear--that I should soon remove."

"Greater wizards than you, my brother, have erred in such a belief. At
the same time she is much too uneducated, too ignorant to be a suitable
companion for you through life. And neither would she be suitable for
the social circles into which you must sometime come. Best Harald! let
me beseech you, do not be over-hasty. You have so long thought of taking
a journey into foreign countries to improve your knowledge of
agriculture. Carry out this plan now; travel, and look about you in the
world before you fetter yourself for life."

"I fancy you are right, Alette; and I shall follow your advice, but----"

"Besides," said Alette, interrupting him in her zeal, "it is time enough
for you to think of marrying. You are still young; have time to look
about you, and choose. You can easily, if you will, in every point of
view, form a good connexion. Susanna is poor, and you yourself have not
wealth enough entirely to disregard----"

Susanna would hear no more; and, in truth, she had heard enough. Wounded
pride and sickness of heart drove the blood to her head and chest, till
she felt ready to be choked. She rose hastily, and after she had begged
an acquaintance to tell Alette and Harald that a mere headache compelled
her to leave the dance, she hurried by the wood-path back to Semb.

The evening was beautiful, but Susanna was blind to all its splendours;
she remarked not the twinkling of the bright stars, not how they
mirrored themselves in the ladies-mantle, which stood full of pure
crystal water; she heard not the rushing of the river, nor the song of
the pine-thrush; for never before, in her breast, had Barbra and Sanna
contended more violently.

"They despise me!" cried the former; "they cast me off, they trample me
under their feet. They think me not worthy to be near them; the haughty,
heartless people! But have they indeed a right to hold themselves so
much above me, because I am not so fine, so learned as they; because I
am--poor? No, that have they not, for I can earn my own bread, and go my
own way through the world as well as any of them. And if they will be
proud, then I can be ten times prouder. I need not to humble myself
before them! One is just as good as another!"

"Ah!" now began Sanna, and painful tears began to flow down her cheeks,
"one is not just as good as another, and education and training make a
great difference between people. It is not pleasant for a man to blush
for the ignorance of his wife; neither can one expect that anybody would
teach a person of my age; nor can they look into my heart and see how
willingly I would learn, and--and Harald, whom I thought wished me well,
whom I loved so much, whom I would willingly serve with my whole heart
and life--how coldly he spoke of me, who just before so warmly--Harald,
why shouldst thou fool my heart so, if thou carest so little for what it
feels, what it suffers?"

"But," and here again began Barbra, "thou thinkest merely on thyself;
thou art an egotist, like all thy sex. And he seems to be so sure of me!
He seems not to ask whether I will; no--only whether he graciously
should. Let him try! let him make the attempt! and he shall see that he
has deceived himself, the proud gentleman! He shall see that a poor
girl, without connexions, without friends, solitary in the wide world,
can yet refuse him who thinks that he condescends _so_ to her. Be easy,
Miss Alette! the poor despised Susanna is too proud to thrust herself
into a haughty family; because, in truth, she feels herself too good for
that."

But Susanna was very much excited, and very unhappy, as she said this.
She had now reached Semb. Lights streamed from the bedroom of the
Colonel's widow. Susanna looked up to the window, and stood in mute
astonishment; for at the window stood the Colonel's widow, but no longer
the gloomy, sorrowful lady. With her hands pressed upon her breast, she
looked up to the clear stars with an expression of glowing gratitude.
There was, however, something wild and overstrained in her appearance,
which made Susanna, who was possessed by astonishment and strange
feelings, determine to go to her immediately.

On Susanna's entrance into the room Mrs. Astrid turned hastily to her.
She held a letter clasped to her breast, and said with restless delight
and a kind of vehemence--

"To Bergen, to Bergen! Susanna, I set off to-morrow morning to Bergen.
Get all in readiness for my journey as soon as you can."

Susanna was confounded. "To Bergen?" stammered she, inquiringly; "and
the road thither is so difficult, so dangerous, at this time----"

"And if death threatened me upon it, I should yet travel!" said Mrs.
Astrid, with impatient energy. "But I desire that no one accompany me.
You can stay here at home."

"Lord God!" said Susanna, painfully excited, "I spoke not for myself.
Could I die to save my lady from any danger, any sorrow, heaven knows
that I would do it with joy! Let me go with you to Bergen."

"I have been very unhappy, Susanna!" resumed Mrs. Astrid, without
remarking her agitated state of mind; "life has been a burden to me. I
have doubted the justice of Providence; doubted whether our destinies
were guided by a fatherly hand; but now--now I see--now all may be very
different.--But go, Susanna, I must compose myself; and you also seem to
need rest. Go, my child."

"Only one prayer," said Susanna--"I may go with you to-morrow morning?
Ah! refuse me not, for I shall still go with my lady."

"Well, well," said Mrs. Astrid, almost joyfully, "then it would be no
use my saying no."

Susanna seized and kissed her hand, and was ready to weep, from all the
pain and love which filled her soul; but her lady withdrew her hand, and
again desired her kindly but commandingly to go.

When she was alone, she turned her eyes upon the letter which she held
in her hands.

Upon the envelope of the letter stood these words, written by an
unsteady hand.

"To my wife, after my death."

The letter was as follows:

"I feel that a great change is about to take place in me. Probably I may
die, or become insane. In the first place, I will thank my wife for her
angel-patience with me during my life, and tell her, that it is owing to
her conduct that I have at this moment my faith left in virtue and a
just Providence. I will now reward her in the only way which is possible
to me. Know then, my wife, that the boy, for whom thou hast loved and
deplored--_is not dead!_ Let it also lessen the abhorrence of my deed,
when I assure thee, that it was solicitude for your well-being which led
me in part to it. I was totally ruined--and could not endure the
thoughts of seeing thee destitute! For this reason I sent away the boy,
and gave it out that he was dead. He has suffered no want, he has----"

Here followed several illegible lines, after which might be read:

"I am confused, and cannot say that which I would. Speak with the former
Sergeant Rönn, now in the Customs at Bergen; he will----"

Here the letter broke off. It was without date, the paper old and
yellow. But Mrs. Astrid kissed it with tears of joy and gratitude,
whilst she whispered,

"Oh, what a recompense! What light! Wonderful, merciful, good
Providence!"

FOOTNOTES:

[14] About a farthing.

[15] The understrings of the so-called Hardanger-fiddle are four metal
strings, which lie under the sounding-board. They are tuned in unison
with the upper catgut strings, whereby, as well as by the peculiar form
of the violin itself, this gives forth a singular strong, almost
melancholy sound.

[16] The langoleik, or langleg, is a four-stringed instrument, probably
of the same form as the psaltry. The peasant girls in mountain-districts
play gladly upon it, and often with great dexterity. In the so-called
"Elskov's Song," from Vestfjordal it is said--

Ho som so gjilt kan po Langoleik spelo,
Svanaug den vena, ska no væra mi!




AASGAARDSREIJA.

  Wildly the misty troop the tempest rideth,
  The ghosts of heroes seek the Northern fjorde;
  There goes the iron-boat; the serpent glideth,
  The ravens flutter round the lofty board.

  Dark, silent shades the high mast are surrounding;
  Lightnings are flashing from the weapons bright;
  Rise up from ocean-cliff's thou horn resounding,
  To-night ride forth the Daughters of the fight!

  VELHAVEN.


Susanna went into her quiet room, but within her it was not quiet--a
hard fight was fought there. It was necessary now to abandon all her own
wishes and hopes, for Susanna found now that she almost unconsciously to
herself had cherished such as regarded her mistress and Harald. She had
hoped that through her love she might win this, through her attentions
might become necessary to them; and now she saw how infinitely little
she was to them. She blushed at her own self-delusion, and reproached
herself with having been untrue to her little Hulda; in having attached
herself so deeply to strange people, and allowed her favourite scheme to
be dimmed by new impressions and views. Susanna punished herself
severely for it; called herself foolish and weak; and determined to fly
from Harald, and from the place where he dwelt.

"When I have attended my lady over the dangerous mountains,"--thus
thought Susanna,--"when I see her in safety and happy, then I will leave
her--her and him, and this country for ever. Poor came I hither, poorer
shall I go away from it, for I shall leave a part of my heart behind in
a foreign land. But a pure conscience shall I take with me to my home.
They could not love me; but when I am gone, they will perhaps think with
esteem, perhaps with friendship, upon Susanna!"

The silent stars mirrored themselves in Susanna's tears, which flowed
abundantly during this quiet discourse with herself, and the tears and
the stars calmed her mind, and she felt herself strengthened by the
resolution which she had taken.

After this she entirely directed her thoughts upon that which would be
necessary for the journey, and passed the remainder of the night partly
in these preparations, and partly in setting the domestic affairs in
order, that she might with a good conscience leave the house.

In the mean time the journey was not so quickly undertaken as was at
first intended, for a safe guide and good safe horses for the journey
over the mountains had to be obtained, and this occupied the greater
part of the next day. Before the morning of the following day, it was
not possible that they could set out. Harald, greatly amazed at this
sudden determination, endeavoured to delay the journey, by
representations of its difficulties and even dangers during this season,
for, "from the beginning of September, they may every day look for falls
of snow and stormy tempests in this mountain region." But Mrs. Astrid,
without further explaining herself, adhered to her resolution, and
Harald promised to make all preparations for the journey, so that it
might be performed as speedily and as safely as possible. They had the
choice between four equally difficult mountain-roads which led from this
part of Hallingdal towards the diocese of Bergen; and of these, the
shortest was that which went through Hardanger. Mrs. Astrid determined
upon this. This, however, would require at least two days and a half.
Harald, who knew the way, and said that in case of need he could serve
as guide, made preparations to attend the lady on her adventurous
journey. Alette, in the mean time, with her Alf, should, in company
with her uncle in Hallingdal and his family, set off on the journey to
Trondhjem, where Harald promised afterwards to meet them for Alette's
marriage.

Harald wished to inquire from Susanna the cause of this extraordinary
journey; but Susanna at this time was not much to be spoken with, she
had so much to attend to both within and out of the house, and she was
always surrounded by Larina and Karina, and Petro. And Susanna was glad
that her household affairs gave her a good excuse for absenting herself
from the company, and even from avoiding intercourse with the world. A
certain bitterness both towards him and Alette was rooted into her
heart.

Among many noble and valuable qualities, man has that of being able to
condemn and sentence himself. And if we are justly displeased with any
one, if we are wounded and repelled by word or deed, we should depend
upon this quality, and permit it to operate reconcilingly upon our
feelings. For while we are embittered by his offence, perhaps he himself
may have wept in silence over it, waked in the silent hours of the night
unpityingly to punish himself in the severe sanctuary of his conscience;
and the nobler the human being, all the greater is his pang, even over
failings which before the judgment-seat of the world are very small or
no faults at all; nay, he will not at all forgive himself if he cannot
make atonement for his faults; and the hope of so doing is, in such
painful hours, his only comfort.

Thus even would every bitter feeling have vanished out of Susanna's
soul, could she have seen how deeply dissatisfied was Harald at this
time with himself,--how warmly he upbraided himself for the words which,
during the yesterday's dawn, had passed his lips, without there being
any actual seriousness in them; and how displeased he was by the promise
which he had given to Alette, and with the resolve he had made, in
consequence of her anxieties and advice.

This dissatisfaction was the more increased, when he saw by Susanna's
swollen eyelids that she had wept much, and remarked in her manner a
certain uneasiness and depression which was so entirely the reverse of
her usually fresh and lively deportment. Uneasy and full of foreboding,
he questioned himself as to the cause, whilst he followed her with
inquiring looks.

At dinner, Mrs. Astrid did not join them at the table, and the others
sate there silent and out of spirits, with the exception of Lexow, who
in vain endeavoured to enliven the rest with his good humour.

In the afternoon, whilst they were taking coffee, Susanna slipped
silently away, to carry to a sick peasant woman, before her journey,
some medicines, together with some children's clothes. Harald, who had
stood for some time observing the barometer, and who seemed to suspect
her intention, turned round to her hastily as she went out at the door,
and said to her--

"You cannot think of going out now? It is not advisable. In a few
minutes we shall probably have a severe storm."

"I am not afraid of it," replied Susanna, going.

"But you do not know _our_ storms!" answered Harald. "Lexow, come here!
See here,"--and Harald pointed to the barometer, whilst he said half
aloud, "the quicksilver has fallen two degrees in half an hour; now it
sinks again; now it stands near the earthquake point! we shall have in a
moment a true 'Berg-röse,'[17] here."

Lexow shook his head mournfully, and said--

"It is a bad look out for the morrow's journey! But I presume that your
storms here are mere child's play, compared with those that we have in
certain districts of Nordland!" And Alf went to his Alette, who looked
inquiringly and uneasily at him.

Harald hastened after Susanna, and found her at the door, just about
going out with a bundle under her arm. He placed himself in the way
before her, and said to her gravely--

"You cannot go! I assure you that danger is at hand."

"What danger?" asked Susanna, gloomily, and with an obstinate
determination to act in opposition to Harald.

"Aasgaardsreija," answered Harald, smiling, "and it is nothing to joke
about. Soon enough will it come riding here and may take you with it, if
you do not stop at home. No! You must not go now!" And he seized her
hand in order to lead her into the house.

Susanna, who fancied that he was joking in his customary manner, and
who was not at all in a joking humour, released her hand, and said,
crimsoning and proudly--

"I _shall_ go, sir! I shall go, because I will do so; and you have no
right to prevent me."

Harald looked at her confounded, but said afterwards, in a tone which
very much resembled Susanna's--

"If I cannot prevent your going, neither can you prevent my following
you!"

"I would rather go alone!" said Susanna, in a tone of defiance, and
went.

"I, even so!" said Harald, in the same tone, and followed her, yet ever
at the distance of from fifteen to twenty paces. As he passed the
kitchen door, he went in and said to those whom he found there, "Look to
the fire, and extinguish it at the first gale of wind; we shall have a
tempest."

At the same moment, Alfiero sprang towards Susanna, howling and leaping
up with his paws upon her shoulder, as if he would prevent her from
going forward on her way. But repulsed by her, he sprang anxiously
sneaking into his kennel, as if seeking there for shelter from danger.

The weather, however, was beautiful; the wind still; the heaven bright;
nothing seemed to foretel the approaching tempest, excepting the smoke,
which, as it ascended from the cottages in the dale, was immediately
depressed, and, whirling round, sunk to the earth.

Susanna went rapidly on her way; hearing all the time Harald's footsteps
a little behind her, and yet not venturing to turn round to look at him.
As by chance she cast her eyes to heaven, she perceived a little white
cloud, which took the fantastical shape of a dragon, and which, with the
speed of an arrow, came hastening over the valley. Immediately
afterwards was heard a loud noise, which turned Susanna's glance to the
heights, where she saw, as it were, a pillar of smoke whirlingly ascend
upwards. At the same moment Harald was at her side, and said to her
seriously and hastily, "To the ground! throw yourself down on the ground
instantly!"

Susanna would have protested; but in the same moment was seized by
Harald, lifted from the earth, and in the next moment found herself
lying with her face upon the ground. She felt a violent gust of wind;
heard near to her a report like that of a pistol-shot, and then a loud
cracking and rattling, which was followed by a roar resembling the
rolling of successive peals of thunder; and all was again still.

Quite confounded by what had taken place, Susanna raised her head, and
looked around her as she slowly raised herself. Over all reigned a dead
stillness; not a blade of grass moved. But just near to her, two trees
had been torn up, and stones had been loosened from the crags and rolled
into the dale. Susanna looked around for Harald with uneasiness, but he
was nowhere to be found, and she thought upon the story of
Aasgaardsreija. In her distress she called upon his name, and had great
joy in hearing his voice reply to her.

She perceived him at a little distance from her, slowly raising himself
near an angular wall of rock. He was pale, and seemed to feel pain.
Busied about Susanna's safety, Harald had assumed too late the humble
posture into which he had compelled Susanna, and had been caught by the
whirlwind, and slung violently against the corner of a rock, whereby he
had sustained a severe blow upon the left collar-bone and shoulder. He,
however, assured Susanna, who was now anxious about him, that it was of
no consequence; it would soon be better, he added jestingly.

"But was I not right in saying that Aasgaardsreija is not to be played
with? And we have not yet done with it. In a few moments it will be upon
us again; and as soon as we hear it roaring and whistling in the
mountains, it is best that we h

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