“The Lord show mercy unto you!”
“Well may you say it!... That afternoon, when the grasshoppers began to beat like hail against the walls, she remembered that some of the little fellow’s clothes were lying outside to dry. She ran out to get them, but when she picked them up there was nothing left but a few tatters of cloth.... Then the spell came over her in an instant, you understand. She ran into the house like a mad woman, wailing: ‘Now the devil has come for your clothes.... He’d better have you, too.... Until he gets you we will have no peace!’ ... Then she grabbed for the child!” Per Hansa groaned aloud.... “But what might have been in her mind I cannot say. I forgot to tell you,” he went on, controlling himself once more, “that the very night before, her mother was in the room with her; Beret talked with her just as plainly as I now stand here talking to you. She had got up and dressed herself, and was telling her mother all about everything, the way women do ... and, would you believe it, she wanted to cook coffee for her!... ‘We aren’t so poor as all that!’ she told her mother.”
“And how was it afterward?” the minister asked, deeply moved.
“Well, you see,” said Per Hansa, wiping his eyes, “I had to do something about it. So I persuaded her to let Sörrina take the child during the summer.”
“You got her to agree to that?”
“Yes, after a while; at first she wouldn’t hear of it, but finally she gave in. And now I don’t know whether I did right or wrong; I believe it hurt her terribly to have the little fellow gone. I saw how she wandered about the room, as if longing to care and do for him, but he was not there.... And one night after the plague came—I couldn’t lie awake every night, you know—she got up quietly and stole over to the house where he was.... She wanted to get the child. Whether she intended to do him harm or not, none of us can be sure. She told Sörrina and Hans Olsa that visitors had come from afar, asking to see the boy, and so she must have him; there wasn’t any way out of it. Yes, that’s what she said!”
“The Lord has certainly laid a heavy cross upon you! But remember, He will remove it in His own good time!... Now, tell me, how is she between these attacks?”
“Well, you see, she may be all right for months; one who had never known her well would hardly suspect that anything was wrong with her during this time; she does her work like all the rest of us. In the dead of winter, of course, when the blizzards are raging and we don’t see any other folks for weeks at a time, she has days when she seems to go all to pieces; but I hardly reckon that as the disease—that sort of thing happens to a good many of us, let me tell you!”
“What do you intend to do about it this summer?”
“This summer?” ... Per Hansa’s face was drawn with fear as he turned to the minister.... “If Satan lets his hosts loose upon us again this summer, then I don’t know what will happen!”
The minister patted him on the shoulder:
“Take no thought for the morrow! The plague cannot last forever. And remember that the Lord is always near. As the number of thy days, so shall thy strength be. And now take this advice from me: From now on keep close to her; be toward her as you were during those happy days when you first got her; let your affection warm her into the understanding that it is good to be human; and lighten her burdens in every way.... Above everything, do not take her child away from her again. You will simply have to be as watchful as you can.... And now I will perhaps stay here to-night; arrange it so that I can be alone with her awhile to-morrow.” ...
The minister gazed before him in deep thought, his heart wrung with pity and compassion. “Perhaps the Lord will allow me to reach her mind with a clarifying idea. His word is living life and can move mountains.... When I return you must take her to Communion.”
His hand was patting the shoulder on which it rested. Per Hansa wept, his sobs coming in short gasps that shook his frame; he experienced a blessing descending upon him, and his burden grew lighter. There was much more he wanted to say, but just now he could not speak....
A long pause followed; then the minister spoke again: “Let us not stand here longer in fear and darkness, talking about sad things; our bodies need nourishment.”
They walked across the yard in the quiet prairie evening, Per Hansa so happy that he could gladly have offered the minister his whole crop as it stood in all its beauty ... and he had a hundred acres seeded in, counting it near and far.
Just as they reached the door of the hut somebody rounded the corner on the run and called in a quick, scared voice, “Father!”
Both men jumped, so suddenly had the figure come out of the darkness.
“Is that you, Ola? What are you up to, anyway?”
“Father, come here!” The boy grasped Per Hansa by the arm and tried to pull him along. “Hans is sitting up on the Indian mound, crying and taking on! I can’t get him to come home!”
“Is he sick?”
“No!”
“What’s the matter with him, then?” The father shook the boy.
“He is afraid of mother ... you must come right away!”
The boy sped away into the darkness.
Per Hansa gave the minister a look which seemed to say: “Now you see how things are here!” ... And all the radiance that for a moment had lighted up his soul was suddenly gone out. He asked the minister to enter.... “Tell them that I and the boys will be right along.” ... Then he too disappeared.
The minister stood there for a while in deep uncertainty; at last he turned toward the door, made the sign of the cross in front of it, said a prayer, then opened it and went in.
... But across the fields ran Ole, and the father went after him.
“Where is he?”
“Over there!”
“You run home. I guess I can find him. Is it over there by the grave?”
“Yes ... here ...”
Ole vanished on the other side of the mound.
“Store-Hans, where are you keeping yourself?”
A smothered cry came through the darkness.
Per Hansa followed the sound and almost stumbled over a writhing form which lay on the ground; he bent over and lifted it up in his arms.
“Hansy-boy, what’s the matter?”
The father sat down with the limp, slender body of the boy in his arms, rocking and lulling it.
“Is ... is ... mother queer again?”
“No, indeed! Mother is all right, and now supper is ready.”
“Did ... did she ... kill Permand?”
Per Hansa took a firmer hold of the boy, got up, and started to run.
“Did she do it?”
The father spoke harshly:
“I don’t want to hear any more of such wicked talk! Mother is all right ... all of us are ... and now she has supper ready, and everything.” He stopped and set the boy down. “Now wipe your face—we can’t come into the house this way.” ... The father began to dry the boy’s tear-stained face. “You must wash yourself as soon as you get in the house,” he said, gently, taking the boy by the hand.
V
Nothing out of the ordinary happened that evening. When the minister came into the hut he greeted them in an even voice, “God’s peace upon this house!” Then he took off his vestments, folded them up and put them in his valise, looked around for a chair, and sat down. And now that he had removed his official garb he looked like a different man; the special odour of sanctity that had rested on him seemed to have departed; he sat there quietly, having little to say, looking like a man who has just passed through a great hardship and is very tired.... The table was set for supper; upon it had been placed one candle, and another stood on a little shelf by the stove. Sörine was still in the house, bustling about and helping with the meal; And-Ongen sat on one of the beds, playing with her baby brother, who had been washed and dressed for the night and was now ready to be put to sleep. Sörine kept talking and laughing with the children as she worked, and an air of cheerfulness had come over the room.
Beret stood by the stove, bent over, washing some pots and pans; she glanced once over her shoulder at the minister as he sat down; but very soon she had to look again. And then she did something that she often wondered at afterward: she wiped her hands, took a clean bowl from the cupboard, filled it with fresh milk, and offered it to him, saying: “Have some milk, please, to stay your hunger while you wait.”
The minister took the bowl without looking at her; he emptied it at one draught, put it down, and thanked her in a few brief words.
Almost immediately Beret grew bashful and uneasy over what she had done; in her nervousness she picked up a shirt that she was making for one of the boys, sat down by the candlelight near the stove, and began to sew as hard as she could; but she kept her face turned away from the minister.
Per Hansa and the boys came in; Sörine announced that supper was ready; the four men sat down and began the meal. The minister looked at the younger boy; his face was swollen, his eyes were red with weeping; a heavy veil seemed to hide his handsome features. At the sight of the boy the minister felt more like crying than eating; a sudden revulsion overcame him. Laying down his knife and fork, he asked for another bowl of milk, which he emptied slowly, and then waited for the others to get through. When he thought they had finished, he folded his hands on the table and began to pray to the unseen one whose presence was always near.
So quickly did he begin, that at first Per Hansa didn’t realize what was going on and was on the point of asking the minister what he said. The same thing happened to the others: Ole had just discovered that he wasn’t quite satisfied, and was reaching for another piece of bread; Sörine was about to offer them all more coffee. But Beret sat bowed over her sewing, trying to catch every word; she took a few stitches, and then the work dropped to her lap; something compelled her to turn and look at him. The light of the candle cast a reddish gleam over his face; his beard seemed more silvery than ever; the countenance was that of a good child who is tired and wants to be put to bed.... His voice was gentle and low.... He is really a fine man, thought Beret, and kept on listening....
During the summer there are at times dark days on the prairie; the rain is cold, the fog dreary and dank, sticking to one’s clothes like wool. But it may happen that toward evening, just as the day is nearly done, a curtain is suddenly drawn aside; in the western sky appears a window—not built by the hand of man—all luminous with splendour; out of it shines a radiance clearer and more glorious than anything the eye has ever beheld; all around the window night and darkness hang suspended like draperies—they too radiating a glory not of this world.... Thus was the splendour which now pervaded Per Hansa’s sod house. All had folded their hands without knowing it. Over on the bed the play continued; happy laughter arose, though it did not seem to disturb the prayer. But after a while that also quieted down.... Then Permand heard the voice of the one he had been playing with earlier in the evening; it tempted him so hard that he could not resist; clad in his little nightdress, he crawled out of the bed, toddled across the earthen floor to the minister, put both hands on the knees that rose before him, and looked up merrily into the man’s face. All who saw it felt shocked at the impropriety; they wanted to stop the child, but only feared a greater impropriety in anything they might do. Per Hansa was on the point of speaking sharply, but his voice failed; Sörine thought of snatching the child away, but only remained motionless and aghast, ... “I suppose I shall have to do it myself,” thought Beret—yet she, too, could not get up from her chair.... The child had entered a glory where no one dared to follow.... Without interrupting his flow of words, the minister lifted the boy onto his knees, folded the baby hands within his own, and went on with the prayer.... “Oh, this is too bad!” cried Beret to herself, struggling to rise. “The child’s nightshirt is dirty—he mustn’t sit there!” But still she could not get up from her chair: the one with whom the minister was talking stood too near.... The words flowed on without a pause, softly and sweetly, like the warm rain of a summer evening. It was as if the minister had much to confide to that other one; the other one seemed to be objecting, as if He hesitated to do what was asked; then the minister prayed more fervently; not that he raised his voice—the words came with the same gentleness—but he threw his whole soul into them, as if he refused on any account to give in.
At last he came to the little boy who sat there on his lap—the child he had christened that day. And it seemed almost uncanny to listen to what he said; one could hardly make out whether he was talking to the unseen being or to the boy himself; at times it sounded as if they might be one and the same.... He laid his hand tenderly on the child’s head; his eyes seemed closed, but the words had caught a new inspiration; to those who listened, it seemed a wonderful thing....
“Set him aside, O God,” the pastor prayed, “as Thou didst formerly with Thy chosen ones in times of yore!... Set him aside, and consecrate him as a true Nazarene!... Let him indeed fulfil the promise of his splendid name and become a true victor here, both over himself and for the salvation of his people.... And now may Thy blessed peace rest on this house, for ever and ever ... Amen!”
He sat with closed eyes for some time, his hand still resting on the boy’s head; the others were very still. Beret trembled throughout her body; a choking feeling came over her, and at last she had to cough. She glanced down in confusion at her sewing.
“I haven’t done this right!” she thought, distractedly, trying to calm herself. She looked at the sewing again, got up to fetch the shears, and ripped out what she had been doing.
Then the minister began to play with the boy, in a natural, happy way; and in a little while they both seemed to be having great fun. But he didn’t have anything to say to the others; and they, in turn, couldn’t find anything to say to him.
But the next morning, as they sat at the breakfast table, the minister was both merry and talkative, and helped himself so liberally to the food that it was a pleasure just to see him do it. He asked many questions regarding the life and conditions in that vicinity, and showed himself so well informed about farming that Per Hansa asked, without thinking, whether he had ever been a farmer.... Then he suddenly remembered what the minister had told him to do the evening before; he got up hastily, called to the boys, and they left the house together.
The moment they were gone Beret grew very uneasy; she found her sewing again, and sat down with it in a furtive, embarrassed way. The minister could see nothing unusual about her, except that her face was so singularly childlike; this impression came mostly from the way she used her eyes; it was hard to find them, because she kept looking down in extreme bashfulness and timidity; nor could he seem to easily draw her into conversation.
He came over and stood beside her chair.
“Well, now, Mrs. Holm, I have a request to make of you. Two weeks from next Sunday I shall return; and then I plan to conduct Communion services here in your house.”
Beret was so astonished to hear these words, that she forgot herself for a moment and looked straight at him.
“Here in our sod house?”
“Yes, right here in your house, where you live every day.... Don’t you think it would be a blessing for you to come to the Lord with your sins and taste the sweetness of His mercy?” he said in a quiet voice.
“Here ...?” she asked, greatly agitated. “Oh no—that would never do—oh no!... It’s too filthy and dirty here.... There’s too much ... it’s unclean!” ... She stopped abruptly, blushed scarlet, and looked down into her lap again.
“No doubt there is much sin here,” resumed the minister. “That I am sure of. But the Lord will sanctify the house for us.... And now I want you to plan how nicely we can arrange it for His blessed purposes. Let us consider the matter before I leave.” He looked around the room. “The table had better be taken out—that will give us more room. That big chest we can perhaps use as the altar—that is, if your husband could fix up something for railing. We could probably find some fitting material to cover both that and the chest; perhaps you had better talk to the neighbour women about it.” ... The minister talked on as if everything were decided, with only the responsibility for its execution left in her hands.
She gave him a quick look; her cheeks were flushed.
“That is my father’s chest ... it is a nice chest, too.”
The voice had grown querulous again and bore the same childlike expression; the minister made no reply. He took her hand, thanked her briefly for her hospitality, and hurried out of the room. When he got outside his forehead was damp with perspiration. He saw Per Hansa coming in his direction, but turned away to avoid him....
When Beret sat down awhile later to dress the little boy she felt that she could sing aloud to-day—felt that she had to sing, that she could not help it. Both words and melody seemed to rise in her throat; it was the baptismal hymn that they had used the previous day, and she sang all the verses.... While she sang she handled the boy so gently ... as if she were almost afraid to touch him....
VI
There was much stir and activity all through that summer and fall of ’77; many schooners sailed across the wide prairie, and with them came always excitement. The greater number of them, however, went drifting past, pushing still farther westward into the sun glimmer; but there were others that anchored in the settlement and tied up for good. Many were there already, and sod houses grew up like ant hills.... Prospects seemed favourable here, they said, especially if one would take the time to look around. The soil was probably just as good here as farther west.... Well, why not try it here?...
The Sognings in particular were clever at hanging on to prospective settlers: “No use talking, you couldn’t find better land than this, if you searched clear to the Pacific coast! As far as land is concerned, you might just as well settle here.... And this is an old settlement now, the community well organized, with schools and everything.... You can easily get help for both plowing and building.” ... The Sognings were practical folk, and good talkers, besides; and so they had elected a committee to advise all land seekers that passed through the settlement; this committee had informed itself—at least, it talked that way—about every quarter section that was not yet taken.
The grasshopper plague had raged frightfully that season, but they would probably soon be rid of it—and, thank God, it took neither man nor beast! This year, too, the hay was spared, and some of their crops had been saved from year to year; several of the farmers even had a little ready money left, after buying the absolutely necessary articles of food and clothing. The herds of live stock were growing constantly, and now the flocks of poultry, larger and larger each season, helped to pay for many of the things that one had to buy.
One fine day a strange monster came writhing westward over the prairie, from Worthington to Luverne; it was the greatest and the most memorable event that had yet happened in these parts. The monster crawled along with a terrible speed; but when it came near, it did not crawl at all; it rushed forward in tortuous windings, with an awful roar, while black, curling smoke streaked out behind it in the air. People felt that day a joy that almost frightened them; for it seemed now that all their troubles were over, that there could be no more hardships to contend with—at least, that was what the Sognings solemnly affirmed.... For now that the railway had come as far as this, it wouldn’t take long before they would see it winding its way into Sioux Falls. Indeed, if this wasn’t a place fit to live in now, where would one find it?—that the Sognings would like to know.... Good neighbours, schools, the finest kind of land, a railroad and everything—what more could anyone wish?...
That summer a number of houses went up to the westward of Spring Creek. Before the minister had come the first time, Hans Olsa had already hauled the materials for both dwelling and barn; now he was building. After the first year he had gone into stock raising; he had the largest herd in the settlement, and was doing very well—for those days.... And Tönseten, after receiving absolution for his great sin, had become all aglow with high ambitions; his prospects were bright of being elected klokker—perhaps deacon, too; life for him was positively glorious, just one grand song. All day his head was full of the idea that he, too, ought to build himself a respectable house. But the plan never seemed to materialize; he still lived in the old sod house. At last Kjersti would lose her temper whenever the project was mentioned. The hut was good enough, she said; besides, they had no one to build for! This latter fact, however, she didn’t refer to oftener than seemed absolutely necessary; it only made her husband sulky, and then he would call her names, like “whimpering Jane” or “weeping willow.” ... He probably wasn’t to blame, poor fellow, after all....
In the fall Henry Solum built an immense barn; he saw that Hans Olsa had done well by raising cattle, and intended to follow his example; the dwelling house could wait until he got some one to take care of it—and that might be next summer, if everything went as it should.... East of the creek, too, framed houses were rising above the sod huts. The Irish, west by the sloughs, were a little slower about building; there things made scant progress until the following year. The pest had raged worse in that locality than anywhere else, because the land lay lower. And the Irish acted with native caution. They have a wise proverb which says that a good barn may perhaps pay for a decent house, but no one has ever heard of a fine dwelling that paid for a decent barn.... These words of wisdom they believed—and put them into practice.
The new houses seemed so out of place, standing up on the open, bare prairie. Did they really belong there? They looked so defiant!... And that was exactly what the savage storm thought when he came along, winter or summer, found these unheard-of objects in his way, puffed and wheezed, took firm hold, and roared in anger. Well, perhaps he did more than that; it happened now and then that a house would be toppled over, or shattered and torn to pieces; but no matter how hard the storm raged and fumed and growled and took on about it, most of the houses remained standing, and their numbers steadily increased as the years went by. And the groves of trees which the settlers had striven so hard to plant and rear—they stretched and spread, they grew in height and breadth and richness every summer. As they grew they hid the houses, except where the driveway was to come in, when plans and visions became reality. There were settlers, even, who wooded themselves in so completely—perhaps to keep out all evil—that their houses could not be seen at all until one came inside the grove....
VII
The weather was beautiful on the Sunday of the Communion service; the pest had already begun, but only that form of it which bred in the soil there at home; nothing had come yet out of the sky. To-day a light breeze was blowing from the southwest; there was just heat enough to be comfortable; the air swept one’s face like a soft, silken veil. The young people felt like taking off their clothes; the sun quivered down through a greenish-blue haze far off in the deep sky; and over on the prairie the first meadow lark had sung that morning. Both the lark and the robin had found their way out there the second summer after the settlers came.
Several folks had arrived ahead of the appointed time, and were standing in little groups around Per Hansa’s house; most of them had walked over, but those who lived farther away had come jolting along in a lumber wagon, the load and the jolting apparently increasing together. The people were all laughing and talking together, full of life and fun; from their actions no one would have gathered that they were on their way to church.
Old Aslak Tjöme, who lived just northwest of Sam Solum, brought his wife in a wheelbarrow. She had fractured her hip on the ice that spring and was still unable to walk.... “God only knows when she’s going to get well again!” said Aslak. “It’s too bad, because even when she is well I have no more help than I need.” ... And Aslak was bringing his wife to church for this reason: he had a notion—just a notion—that if the minister would lay his hands on her she might gain faster.... Anyhow, there was no harm in trying.... Aslak, with his wife in the wheelbarrow, made a funny sight; he had rigged up a high back-rest for her and had fixed a seat in the barrow, covered with a sheepskin rug; on this she sat like a queen on her throne. On either side of the wheelbarrow he had fastened short poles, connecting them with a rope. The woman clung to the rope with one hand; in the other she held a hymn book wrapped in a white handkerchief.
Folks passing them stopped and laughed, and offered to push awhile. “Oh no, thank you!” said Aslak, merrily. “Now I can manage her alone; but it hasn’t always been thus—no, indeed!” Then he laughed again as he pushed on, and looked lovingly at her. She nodded and smiled, laughing back at him.... “You take my place and let me push awhile!” ... That gave them a good laugh together.
The minister had reached the settlement the evening before and had stayed overnight at Per Hansa’s. That morning they had been up early, had hurried through the breakfast, and immediately after had started to put the house in order for the service. It had been thoroughly cleaned and tidied up before he came. All kinds of wild flowers that were to be found on the prairie had been gathered and hung in bouquets of various sizes under the ceiling, or put into glasses and bowls that stood around in every conceivable place. There was something strange and haphazard about it, as if it had been done by children in play.... As the minister looked around, a chill hand seemed to clutch his heart....
The table had been carried outside and the big chest placed diagonally in one corner, just as he had directed on his first visit. Per Hansa had constructed a long, low bench, made up of several small benches; this ran along in front of the chest and was covered with two rugs that Sörine had brought over; the chest itself was draped with a white cloth. The minister took the paten and the chalice and placed them on the improvised altar; he also asked for the two candlesticks he had noticed the other time, and when they had been brought and fitted with candles, he set them on either end of the chest. Over the cold stove they spread another rug; yesterday the boys had stripped off a whole tubful of willow leaves; these were now brought in and scattered around on the floor.
The result was satisfactory. The minister looked around; he had scarcely spoken since he came.... “Now I am going over to the other hut to dress for the service; I shall be there until it is time to begin, and would rather not be disturbed.” ... He glanced at the wife, then at the husband, and said as he went out, “God grant to both of you a blessed Communion!”
Entering the other hut, where he had slept the previous night, the minister slowly began to put on his canonicals. His lips moved in prayer; his brow was wet with perspiration. When he had dressed he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned his head on one hand. As he sat there, his bowed figure seemed strangely powerless and insignificant; the strength that he had so fervently prayed for at this hour, he had not received. When he finally took the books from the valise his hand trembled. His face looked pale and tired; now he felt the need of a strong faith—and when he sought it he sought in vain!...
... In him the faith was lacking; of that he was painfully aware.
With a supreme effort he got up from the bed and went out into the yard.
When he reached the other house it was packed full of people; the elders had found places in the front of the room; there also sat Aslak Tjöme with his wife, the invalid woman comfortably propped up at his side; Per Hansa and his wife sat on the very first bench, right in front of the improvised altar. The minister scanned the crowd, paused for a moment, then came forward and spoke calmly to Per Hansa: “Now, when the service begins, you two will please come forward first. As soon as you have received Communion, you had better go outside, for it will be hot and stuffy in here.” Then he went from person to person, writing down the names of the communicants; at once a deep silence fell on the room.
As the text for the Communion sermon the minister had chosen The Glory of the Lord; rather, he had not chosen it—it had suggested itself powerfully to him on the day he had gone away after talking with Beret. He had at once recognized the fitness of the theme. And now, to-day, it had returned to him with overwhelming force; here sat people who, perhaps for many years, had had no chance, no single opportunity, to confess their sins before the Lord and receive His blessed remission. Among them was one soul, sore perplexed, that he must try to reach.... He had seen clearly on his last visit—at least, he thought he had seen—that what the woman needed above everything else was the gladness of salvation, the abiding joy that issues out of the faith and the firm conviction that life is good because the Lord Himself has ordained it all.... Until he faced her he had felt so happy over the theme.... Ah, well, perhaps the Lord would vouchsafe unto him the necessary strength ... yes, if he only could find the faith within his own soul!...
He asked the assembly to keep quiet and remain seated during the Communion service, and began the service at once.
But as he started to preach the words he wanted would not come; in those that came there seemed to be no power; to-day something had happened to him which he could not control. He heard himself speak, and it seemed like the voice of another. He could not fathom it; here he stood before a remarkable congregation, under the most inspiring circumstances; he had been given a text more wonderful than any servant of the Lord could rightly hope to find; in all ways he was better prepared to conduct Communion services to-day than he had ever been before.... And yet he could not preach ... the words would not come!...
They were failing him utterly now. Here he was preaching about the Glory of the Lord—and stuttering like a child!... “I must go a little slower and try to collect my thoughts; that may help me; perhaps it will bring the words I need.... It makes no difference if I don’t speak so loud; the people can hear me well enough, if I can only express myself simply and clearly!” ... He struggled to find the right words, the aptest illustrations; his face grew flushed with the unusual exertion; great beads of sweat stood out on it and began to roll down.... But all to no purpose....
... “If I am not careful,” he thought, “I will break down completely; I’m not saying a thing that is worth while!” ... And he spoke even more slowly, making long pauses between his sentences, so that it sounded like a sort of conversation—a one-sided argument against a silent adversary.... The man who had looked forward with such fervour to preaching this sermon on The Glory of the Lord was making a sorry mess of it as he rambled on in disconnected phrases.
But he must keep going; he had asked the people to remain seated, and they were expecting a long discourse; to disappoint them would be a scandal.
... “The Glory of the Lord—what is it? One might suppose it to be too wonderful for us to talk about.... Nothing to that remark!” he thought, as soon as he had said it.... “Nothing but empty words about holy things!” ...
He began to enumerate all the examples from the Scriptures that he had been striving for two weeks to cull and arrange; everything calculated to show the real wonders of the Glory of the Lord:
... “Did not Adam and Eve behold the Glory of the Lord as they walked in innocence in Paradise? The Lord spake to them in the paths of the Garden; that was in the morning of time, when the world was still young and everything in it was pure and beautiful.... And Enoch who was translated that he should not see death.... Abraham and Sarah, as they saw the promise made to them fulfilled before their eyes in such a wonderful fashion.... Jacob, who fought with the Lord and wrestled with Him as man to man—what was he allowed to see?... And that man of God, up on Mount Sinai, as he stood face to face with the Lord of Hosts.... and Jonah, and all the rest?” ... The speaker toiled through the entire Old Testament and pushed his way into the New.... “What was it that the little band of disciples experienced when they sat at table with Him and He Himself brake the bread for them and handed them the cup?”
The minister paused, wiping the perspiration from his face. Every time he drew one of these word pictures for them, the idea came to him more and more forcibly: “These people, sitting here in front of me, are Sognings and Vossings; the man of the house and his wife are fisher-folk from Nordland.... How can they understand the things that happened to an alien people, living ages ago, in a distant land? The Israelites were an Oriental race; they didn’t know anything about Dakota Territory, either; they had no experience of the hardships out here!” ... He could have wept aloud in his sore distress; here he stood, an old and tried servant of God—and now he had preached himself through the whole Bible without finding the Glory of the Lord!...
... “This will never, never do!” he thought, and continued doggedly to speak in slow accents, like one who goes about looking for something while he talks aloud to himself. His eyes roamed helplessly over the rows of faces; they fixed on a fly buzzing around the room, and followed it while he talked. A little way off sat a young woman with three small children; she was a fine, bright-looking woman, tanned and burned by the sun; that must be the girl that Tönseten had married, he thought. The oldest child leaned up against her, the second lay with his head on her thigh; he seemed to be sleeping, for the minister saw only the curly head. She had the youngest child in her lap. He had been restless for a long time, and the mother had unbuttoned her clothes to nurse him. The fly buzzed and buzzed, made a turn in the air, and settled on the nose of the nursing child; the mother raised her hand and swept it away, and as she did so she drew the hand caressingly over the face of the child.
The minister kept on looking at the group.... He had talked himself into complete bankruptcy respecting all things great and beautiful, without finding a message that seemed to apply here. Now, taking a sudden shift, he began to address the little group directly before him; not that he actually pointed to the sunburnt, healthy woman who sat there watching the fly, too busy to listen to him; but he commenced to speak of the love of mother and child. And all at once he did something that he had never done before in a Communion sermon—he told a story; it was a sentimental story, too—and he had always despised sentimentality in preaching:
Once upon a time, he said, a Norwegian immigrant woman landed in New York City; her name was Kari—she was widowed and had nine children.... New York is a terribly large city. Imagine the difficulties a poor immigrant woman meets with there—one who can neither speak nor understand the language! And this woman hadn’t a single friend in all America. When she landed, and saw the great throngs of people, and looked at the whirlpool of traffic, she got terribly frightened, poor soul! She had been told that in this foreign metropolis almost anything might happen to a mother coming alone with nine children; and so she had prepared herself in her own way. Around her waist was wound a long rope; this she now unrolled, tying all nine children to it in single file, but keeping the end still securely fastened around her waist. In this fashion Kari plodded through the streets of the great city, a laughingstock to all passers-by. But just the same, she reached her destination at last, with all her nine children safe and sound!... Wasn’t that rope a fine illustration of a mother’s love?
It occurred to the minister that he had come down to very commonplace things—yet he spoke straight out, from the fulness of his heart.... The people were listening intently; the woman with three little children stopped chasing the fly; he longed to tell her to go on with her duties and not mind him.... But all at once she seemed to become his own mother, as plainly as if he had seen her in the flesh; and he remembered how she had struggled and suffered as a pioneer woman, first in Illinois, afterward in Minnesota. He was profoundly moved as he caught this reflection of her destiny; his words came faster, pouring forth without a trace of effort.... “But when such love exists between a poor pioneer woman and her plain, ordinary children, what must it not be when it rises to Divinity—the love of Him Who is the source of love itself—of Him Who cares for all life, yea, even for the worm crawling in the dust? The love of mother and child can be only an infinitesimal part of that other love; yet, small and imperfect as it is, it still carries a breath of the Divine omnipotence.... If you, pioneer mothers, have not seen the Glory of the Lord, then no preacher of the Gospel will ever be able to show it to you!... And now come forward to the altar of God and taste that He is good.... Come, with all your sins and all your sorrows.... Bring Him your trials and your grief! Love itself, eternal and boundless, is present here. He is ready and willing to lighten your burdens, just as a mother cares for her nursing child.... Come and receive freely of the abundance of grace. Come and behold the Glory of the Lord!” ...
The minister ended his sermon, looked at his watch, and his brows knit in a puzzled frown. How had this happened? According to the watch, he had been speaking for an hour and fifteen minutes. Could it be possible?
The people came forward, knelt down before Per Hansa’s big chest, and received an assurance so gracious and benign that they could hardly credit its reality.... Many eyes filled with tears during that hour....
The absolution took a long time. The minister looked again at his watch; he still couldn’t understand where the time had gone. In his heart he blamed himself bitterly; not only had he spoiled the Communion sermon, but he had also made it so long that no time was left for the regular sermon of the day!
And so he omitted the sermon altogether, brought the Communion service to a close, and ended with a fervent admonition to the communicants to go directly home and remain quiet for the rest of the day.... They mustn’t stop anywhere to gossip and talk!... He would return at the end of four weeks, at which time he intended to take up the question of organizing a congregation.
He refused to stop for dinner; having hastily drunk a bowl of milk, he got into his cart at once and drove off.... The cart shook and rattled; the old nag ambled along; the minister sat immersed in a deep gloom.... “Never before,” he thought, “have I failed so miserably in any service!”
VIII
It rained both Monday and Tuesday, but not so hard that Hans Olsa had to stop building. With two carpenters to help him, he made such good progress that the day was gone even before it had begun—or so it seemed to him. Which was hardly to be wondered at, because from morning till night could be heard rumbling out of the caverns of his bulky chest a continuous monotone that was seriously meant to be a song; as steady and deliberate as everything he did—as he himself was, for that matter—the vocal performance droned and rumbled on and never came to an end; and so each day proved too short, both for himself and his song.
Yes, now Hans Olsa was building himself a real house, and he sang all day at his work. And why shouldn’t he sing? This was going to be a beautiful house, larger—very much larger, in fact—than he had originally planned; it was to have a roomy kitchen, both a dining room and a parlor, with three bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs.
Concerning the matter of bedrooms on the ground floor, there had been a long-drawn argument between him and Sörine; not a serious disagreement, exactly, but—well, they had talked about it a great deal! Hans Olsa was never in the habit of saying unkind things to his wife; and Sörine always smiled, even when she was provoked; so a real quarrel between the two was hard to raise. But in this instance she held tenaciously to her idea that there must be a bedroom downstairs, no matter how many others he might build elsewhere; and that plan called for an addition to the house, which seemed a needless extravagance. And it was so unlike her—she was never known to be extravagant! So he had tried to reason the idea out of her head; but he finally had had to give it up as a bad job. And since there was no way out of building an addition, while he was about it, he thought, he might as well extend it clear across the house. Thus it had come about that there were to be two extra bedrooms downstairs.... Very unwise, a needless expense, and so utterly unlike her; but there stood the framework, all complete. Nothing to do about it now.
That Sörine was a real gift from on high no one knew better than Hans Olsa himself; and now, this particular summer, there was nothing that he would not gladly have done for her. Ever since last spring, when she had confided to him that she was with child, he had been in a state of blissful anticipation—this time he felt sure that it would be a boy. Hence the new house—hence the song. As soon as she had told him the great news he had come to the decision that that event should never take place in the old sod house; and if it meant such a lot to her to get that room downstairs, she certainly should have it, no matter how unreasonable it might be.
Hans Olsa was fully aware, these days, how everything was arranging itself for his benefit, and he walked about in a state of blissful contentment and thankfulness; his herd had steadily increased from year to year; every season he got more and more land under cultivation; there must be an end to the plague some time, so all wise men said; here, where there was not a human being to be seen the year they came, large settlements were now springing up; the soil was good, the rain and the sunshine were plentiful. And now he was building a mansion for him who was coming.... How marvellous it all was!... Hans Olsa was both a sensible and a serious-minded man; but he would gladly have built two more rooms if she had asked for them, just to show his gratitude....
He had been present at the service last Sunday, had taken part in the Communion; and the longer the service had lasted the stronger and deeper had grown his felicity. He was only a common, uneducated man, and probably lacked a proper conception of the wonders the minister preached about; yet this he knew for certain, that nothing so glorious as that Communion service in Per Hansa’s sod house had he ever before experienced, and the happiness of that hour was still glowing with steady warmth in Hans Olsa’s heart.... As Per Hansa and Beret had knelt before the chest, he had looked at them, thinking of many things. Beret’s sad condition could easily be seen in her face. Ah no, when reason once leaves a person, it seldom returns!... And Per Hansa himself had become an old man long before his time: his hair and beard were grey; his face was thin and worn; not till then had Hans Olsa fully realized the terrible struggle his lifelong friend was going through. He had gazed at the kneeling couple until his large, heavy features drooped with sympathy. Could he at that moment have shared his own happiness with his friend, he would have handed it over to him without a question.
Coming home from the service that day, he had wandered about the place, pondering over an idea which he wasn’t ready to mention to his wife until he had given it more thought. But on Monday night he broached the subject to Sörine: Shouldn’t they offer to take Per Hansa’s youngest child?... Did she suppose that would be too much for her?... You see, he wasn’t any too sure about it, himself.... And now he told her all his thoughts of the previous Sunday.... What did she say—should they offer to take the child?...
Sörine laughed and asked him teasingly if he didn’t think he’d soon have enough with his own? The next instant, however, she too became serious; and now she confided in him that for a long time she had been thinking about this very same thing, herself. But she hadn’t mentioned it to Per Hansa because he knew that she was only too willing; had he wanted to bring it about, he would only have had to ask her....
They couldn’t be sure of that, her husband objected; Per Hansa knew that she was soon going to have one of her own, and he was not the kind of a man to impose on others.... He doubted very much, as a matter of fact, if Per Hansa fully realized the seriousness of Beret’s condition. Should the plague return this summer and that awful spell come over her again, there was no telling what might happen.... “Isn’t it really up to us, who can see the true state of affairs?”
Sörine gave an unexpected answer to this question: “I believe that Beret is jealous of me because I’m so fond of her little boy.... I think I’ve noticed it.”
Hans Olsa pondered this information awhile.... Perhaps his wife was right; and there were other difficulties, too.... Suppose they did take the boy. Could they be certain that he would thrive better here? And if he didn’t, where would be the gain?... And would it be fair to the parents even to suggest such a thing?... At any rate, if things came to such a pass that Per Hansa had to send Beret away—which wasn’t at all improbable—then some one would have to take the child permanently.... And just now, wouldn’t it be too great a burden for Sörine?... No, Hans Olsa couldn’t quite see his way clear....
Sörine only laughed at him.... Certainly she would undertake to be a mother to that blessed dear little boy—it would be only one more—that is, if it ever seemed necessary. But she doubted very much if Per Hansa would consent to the plan; he thought more of that boy than of any of the other children, unless she was much mistaken.... They discussed the matter at great length that evening.
IX
Wednesday afternoon of the same week a faint mist floated before the sun. A light, warm rain fell at intervals from drifting shreds of clouds. Between showers the sun peeped through the clouds to see what was going on down on the prairie; and he set the rainbow here and there as a sign that he was well pleased. There was a big blue heaven behind it all, the air very still ... beautiful weather.
Beret sat in the old sod barn which Per Hansa long since had made over into a workshop and storehouse, sewing a shirt for little Permand. The door was open and she sat where she could look out. She had sent And-Ongen to the field with some water for the boys, who were hoeing the potatoes. Per Hansa was repairing the roof of the new barn. It had been leaking there since the frost went out of the ground last spring, because the willow poles used for supports had not been heavy enough. She could not see him from where she sat, but she could hear him working.
“Yes,” she sighed, looking up from her sewing, “he can manage his work all right. I only wish I could do mine as well.” ... Her face carried the same childlike expression that the minister had noticed, her eyes had the same dreamy, far-away stare; they seemed to be seeing something she did not want to behold, looking for something that would never happen; hence the strange sadness that always shone through them.
She felt perfectly happy, however, but felt so tired and drowsy; it had been this way every day now since that remarkable man had placed his hand on her and in his prophetic voice had assured her that from this time forth she was released from the bonds of Satan.... That any man could have such power!... Yet she knew positively now that he hadn’t been deceiving her, because burden after burden had been lifted from her soul—she felt so light that she could almost float in the air.... But after a while this drowsiness had come on. She could not imagine what ailed her; she slept well at night, and yet was so sleepy during the day that it was a constant struggle to keep awake; to-day she had lain down right after eating and had fallen asleep immediately.
... A blessed man he was, indeed.... And the way he had got them to sing! She had to smile as she remembered it.... Just imagine! he had made them sing exactly the same hymns here in this sod house as the people sang in the churches in Norway—yet no harm had befallen the house on that account.... Melodies were yet hanging throughout the room; yesterday while at work she had heard them everywhere. She had even caught one up and followed it—had sung until Per Hansa came rushing in, to ask her what was the matter; he had looked at her so queerly.... He ought not to get frightened just because she sang!
As she recalled the incident now, snatches of the song came back to her again, and she began humming.... No, no—this would never do! She might scare some one again—people seemed so easily frightened here.... This had turned out to be a rather hard piece of sewing, but the child was going to look fine in his new shirt.... Would she be able to hear him in the other hut when he woke up?... Well, he had a pretty good voice!...
... Surely, now, mother will stop asking for him when she hears he is going to be a minister!... The smile on her childlike face broadened and lighted up.... A minister in the family—I, the mother of a servant of God—why, that is exactly as it is in the Bible!... Her hands trembled as stitch followed stitch. But thoughts were crowding rapidly on her now; she laid down her sewing.
... When mother comes—and she can be expected at any time now—I shall tell her all that has happened here lately. And then I shall say: “You would never have become the grandmother of a minister if I had remained in Norway. Such miracles do not happen there.” ... But very likely she’ll not believe what I tell her.... Beret’s expression became thoughtful and troubled; she rested her hands idly in her lap.... Then I must tell her that now we have a church, right here in our house. At that she’ll only laugh and shake her head, and she’ll probably say: “Now, Beret, you don’t know what you are talking about!” That’s just what she’ll say.... But I will have to answer: “Now, mother, I certainly do. Listen to me: We have a real church. There is an altar with candles on it, and the altar is father’s big chest!” ... That will astonish her still more.... “Beret, my child,” she’ll say, “you are too foolish—you must guard your speech. One doesn’t say everything that comes into one’s head, you know!” ... But then I’ll show her how Syvert and Kjersti, Hans Olsa and Sörine and all the rest, knelt down before the chest and there partook of the Glory of the Lord. I shall describe it all.... She knows Hans Olsa and Sörine—she will believe them.... I must show her just where the chest stood.... Let me see if I can remember the exact words he used:—“the gracious forgiveness of all thy sins.” ... Yes, he said all ... all ... I am sure of that ... I remember it distinctly....
For some time Beret sat deeply absorbed in her thoughts, her sewing in her lap, her hands resting on it without motion.... Mother will sit by the stove, just as she always has done when she has been here. “Well,” she’ll ask, “are you sure now, Beret, that he is going to be a minister? Don’t draw hasty conclusions—you’ve always been so impulsive!” That’s exactly what she’ll say.... Then I must answer: “Yes, mother, you needn’t doubt it any longer; for I myself sat here and heard how this wonderful man argued about it with the Lord—and how he got his way, too. And both Per Hansa and Sörine heard it also. You can ask them if you don’t believe me.” ... Then mother will look at me in her kind way, for a long, long time. At last she’ll say: “Well, if God can use him, it certainly isn’t proper for me to want him; though I would like to have some one of yours with me. But now you must take good care of him, my child!” ... “Yes, mother, how can I help it? How can I ever forget that he is to go out into the world to give of the Glory of the Lord to the children of men?” ... Then mother will get up to go.... I must say to her: “Don’t forget to greet father! You might just as well tell him all this, about his big chest.” ...
Beret’s face had gradually grown very serious. But the sound of heavy steps in the yard brought her out of her reveries. Some one stopped at the barn, and then went in; in a moment she heard the voice of Per Hansa.... What can they want of him now?... Hm, hm—it’s Per Hansa this, and Per Hansa that! First one comes and takes him away, and then another; they never leave him a minute in peace! Can’t they understand that I need him at home?... And he is so easily talked around—he can’t say no to anyone.... I suppose it’s some more hauling—and then he’ll be gone for a long time....
She picked up her work again, but the sewing failed to claim her attention.... It took a long while over that errand. Who could it be?
Putting the work away, Beret stepped quickly out of the door, stealthily crossed the yard to the side of the new barn, and pressed herself close to the wall.... Oh, this was Hans Olsa! It was all right, then—he certainly didn’t need any more hauling.
She was straightening up to return, when something arrested her—kind words spoken slowly in a deep voice..... Hush! hush! They ought not to talk that way about her when she was listening!
... “Should Beret get another spell, you know what might happen—a calamity none of us could get over. We’ve all seen enough of such things.... Now, we will take the boy and care for him as though he were our own flesh and blood.... Sörrina and I have talked it over.”
Beret’s childlike features suddenly took on a peculiarly covert expression.... Ah-ha! So that’s his errand?... Hush! Hush! There is Per Hansa speaking!... His voice sounds so queer—can he have been frightened again?...
... “That’s more than good of you and Sörrina—I realize it all; but matters will have to take their own course.... She is the mother, and I can see how she clings to him.... This spring I worried a lot about what I ought to do when summer came; but now I’ve decided that she shall keep the child with her. If she doesn’t get well by having him at home, it certainly won’t make things any easier for her to have him away—that I know.... She risked her life for him once, and she shall not be bereft of the happiness of having him with her now, no matter what happens.... There’s a Destiny that rules us all—it’s bound to overtake us, whether we are here or there.”
... “Now I’m afraid you are taking too great a responsibility upon yourself,” said the other voice, slowly. “Remember what might have happened last summer when she had the spell.”
A short silence fell in the barn. Beret’s features grew tense. Bending over with a quick, fierce movement, she snatched up a piece of stake and grasped it tightly.
... “No,” came Per Hansa’s voice in meditative tones, “that’s just what none of us can say for certain. She might have escaped the attack altogether if the child had been at home.... I remember how pitiably she seemed to miss him. I’m not at all sure that isn’t what brought on the spell. Perhaps that burden, added to everything else, became too much for her.... And even if the spell had come on with him here at home, she might not have harmed him—I doubt it very much....”
As Beret drank in these words the tenseness all left her; the weapon she had seized dropped from her hand; her body straightened up; she looked about in wide-eyed wonder.... Were those church bells she heard?... But the voices were beginning again on the other side of the wall.... Hush! Hush!
... “Do you really think so?” asked Hans Olsa, seriously.
... “Well, I tell you, Hans Olsa, there’s hardly an angle to this affair that I have not considered. I’m thinking of nothing else, when I’m asleep as well as when I’m awake. And this I do know,” he added with great certainty, “that a kinder person than Beret the Lord never made; there’s nothing but kindness in her.... I’ve come to the conclusion that even in her beclouded moments she has meant no harm to the child—no matter how things may have looked to us.... When all is said and done, it’s my own fault from beginning to end.”
“O God! How beautiful these bells ring!” thought Beret.
... “Because,” Per Hansa went on, sadly, “I should not have coaxed and persuaded her to come with me out here.... Perhaps it was her misfortune that we two ever met.... You remember how it was in Nordland: We had boats that we sailed to Lofoten in, big crafts that could stand all kinds of rough weather, if properly handled; and then there were the small boats that we used for the home fishing; the last were just as fine and just as good for their own purposes as the other kind for theirs, but you couldn’t exchange them; you couldn’t sail to Lofoten with the small boats, nor fish at home in the larger ones.... For you and me, life out here is nothing; but there may be others so constructed that they don’t fit into this life at all; and yet they are finer and better souls than either one of us.... There are so many things we don’t comprehend.”
... “I certainly ought to know Beret,” remarked the other voice, thoughtfully. “We were playmates, she and I.” ...
... “I doubt that very much,” interrupted Per Hansa, “though you are an observing man. I have lived with her all these years, yet I must confess that I don’t know her.... She is a better soul than any I’ve ever met. It’s only lately that I have begun to realize all she has suffered since we came out here. The minister was probably right; no one can ever fathom the depths of a mother’s heart.... The urge within me drove me on and on, and never would I stop; for I reasoned like this, that where I found happiness others must find it as well.... But you see how things have turned out!... The finest castle on earth I was going to build her—and here we’re still living in a mole’s hole—all my dreams have been crushed in misery.... But this I’ve decided, that she shall keep the baby—though I thank you for the offer.” ... The sadness in Per Hansa’s voice had grown deeper and more profound than the grey autumn evening that falls on the bleak prairie.
... “You mustn’t feel hurt about the offer,” put in the slow voice of Hans Olsa. “We only thought it might do a little good.”
Beret listened no more; she walked away like one in a dream of happiness; she did not know where she was going nor what she did. In the southern sky floated transparent little clouds; rainbow ribbons hung down from them. She saw the rainbow’s glow; her face was transfigured; she walked on in ecstasy.... “Are there signs for us in the sky?... That is the Glory of the Lord now ... See!... The whole heavens are full of it!... There ... and there again ... everywhere!”
She reached the other house, came to the door, and would have gone by, but in the house a child was crying loudly. Beret stopped short and passed her hand across her face, as if trying to wake herself from a dream that possessed her; then she went quickly into the house. Over on the bed sat Permand, crying as though his heart would break. Beret hurried to the bed, threw herself down on it, took the boy in her arms, and hugged him close; she felt as if she had got back a child that had been irretrievably lost; she wept as she fondled him, while wave upon wave of gratitude welled up within her.
The boy was so astonished at his mother’s strange behaviour that he stopped crying immediately and lay quiet; then he wriggled out of her arms and threw himself on the pillow, one of his forefingers in his mouth, the other pointing out into the air, as children often will do when they don’t know whether to laugh or cry. There was something so irresistibly comical about him as he lay there pointing at nothing, that a sudden surge of playfulness swept over her and she threw herself down beside him on the pillow. Then he gave her his very biggest smile, letting the finger that had been hovering in the air fall on her face. At that they both burst out laughing—she so boisterously that he withdrew the finger and gave her a frown. She stopped laughing at once, petting and fondling him until she had won him completely.
X
As Beret lay there playing with the child she was suddenly overcome with drowsiness; it seemed to her that she simply could not resist snatching a little sleep—it would feel so delicious. In a moment she had dozed off and was carried away into an infinite, glittering blue space with rainbows hung all around it. The air felt soft and warm about her. A voice, loud and clear, yet very beautiful, was speaking through the sky.... She could not have slept long, for when she awoke there sat the boy close by her side, poking a wet finger into her eyelid. She hastily raised up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes, unable to bring herself fully awake.... “My, how I must have slept!” she thought.... She gazed wide-eyed at the child beside her, and rubbed her eyes again, but could not seem to be able to connect things in her mind.... “Why, what am I thinking about?” she said, half amused. “This is my own little Permand!”
She sat up on the edge of the bed, lifted the boy tenderly, and put him down in her lap. To her own surprise, she was trembling in every limb; she felt a sudden overwhelming bashfulness, like a lover who for the first time comes close to his beloved.
“I want something to eat now!” murmured the boy in a voice that was full of well-being.
—Of course, this little fellow needs food! she thought.
The boy wriggled out of her arms and slid down to the floor.... She could hardly take her eyes away from him; she began to feel almost frightened because of all the vigorous life in that sound little body.
She hastily left the bed and started to find something for the child to eat. It was in her mind to get some milk from a shelf in the corner; but instead of going there she remained standing in the middle of the floor, looking about the room, her eyes still large with wonder.... Everything looked so strange in here to-day! What could have happened. It seemed to her that she hadn’t been here for a long time.... The child was growing impatient; he took hold of her skirt, shook it, and wanted her to hurry.... It confused her dreadfully to stand here like a stranger in her own house!... Well, anyway, there was the bowl of milk she had been looking for.... Where was the spoon, now, that she always used for skimming?... And used she not to have a special cup for the child?... And the bread—he had to have a slice of bread with his milk!... Where was the bread always kept in this house?...
Beret went searching about in her own home like a housewife who had been away on a long visit and returns a partial stranger. But the feeling of home-coming filled her with such joy, that she could only laugh at her bewilderment.... She found one thing here, another there; at last the boy had eaten his fill and was satisfied.
All at once another thought struck her; she glanced around with puzzled anxiety.... Where were the rest of the family to-day?... Surely Per Hansa was somewhere around. Hadn’t she just been talking to him?... And where could the children be keeping themselves?... It exasperated her, yet she couldn’t help laughing; here they had all been with her only a moment ago, and now she couldn’t recall the least little thing! Was she walking in her sleep, in broad daylight.... Thinking vaguely that she must try to get things cleared up, she went out of the door and looked around.
The mildness of the afternoon greeted her like a friend. She breathed in the pure air deeply, straightening her body, throwing back her arms.... What fine weather, these days!... The trees around the yard caught her eye; again she had the feeling of having just returned from a long journey. The idea! Look how big that grove is getting to be!... Over on the prairie, some distance away, rose a half-finished house. Well, that’s Hans Olsa’s. It will be fine for Sörrina to move into that new house! No matter how good care you take of a sod house, it’s never very satisfactory—dust and dirt keep falling from the ceiling all the time, especially when it gets old.... But who was that tall, stooping man coming out of the barn? Now he had greeted her quietly in a deep voice and walked on.... Beret began to be worried. Wasn’t that Hans Olsa? Didn’t she know her own neighbour?... Hearing some one still in the barn, she hurried across the yard and peered in.
“Are you in there?” she called.
A stocky, broad-shouldered man appeared in the barn door; his face was deeply furrowed; his hair and beard, heavily sprinkled with grey, were now full of dust and straw. As she looked at him she felt strangely uneasy and disturbed; but she couldn’t help giving him a bright smile:
“What in the world has happened to you, Per Hansa?”
He stood staring fixedly at her, unable to stir a muscle. No power on earth could have taken his eyes away from her face at that moment; he caught hold of the jamb of the door to steady himself.... God in heaven!—what had happened....
Beret saw his great agitation. Now her disturbance increased—her concern over him grew genuine. “Are you sick, Per Hansa?” she asked in tones of deepest sympathy, coming closer to him. “You mustn’t keep on with this work when you aren’t feeling well; there can’t be such a hurry about it, you know.”
Per Hansa cleared his throat to speak, but no words came ... he could only look at her.
She noticed his pale, haggard face, and her anxiety grew insistent. “You’ve got to quit right now!... I’ll run in and boil some milk for you!” ... She hurried off to the house, too full of her new-found solicitude to wait for an answer.
In the open door Per Hansa stood gazing at her as she went; he longed to follow her, to touch her, to talk to her, but he dared not do it.... There was a spade standing beside the door; he picked it up and set it down inside....
“No, it better not stand in here.” He picked it up again and put it back.... His eyes rested on a hammer lying on the floor—the one he had been using a moment ago. “I must remember to put that hammer away before it gets tramped into the ground.” ... Next moment he forgot all about it.... He was shaking violently from head to foot; he had to lean up against the wall.... “God be merciful! I haven’t seen her like this for many years!” ... Then he sighed wearily.... “But I don’t suppose it means anything.”
Beret came into the house, moving with purpose and confidence now, and hurried to light the fire. The boy was still sitting at the table; no sooner did he see her than he wanted more to eat. But she had no time to bother with him; she put a pan on the stove and filled it with milk.... “Poor fellow, he must have caught a cold, in all this rainy weather,” she thought. “And summer colds are hard to get rid of, unless they’re taken in time. I’d better mix some pepper with the milk.... If I could only persuade him to lie down so that I’d have a chance to cover him up and get him good and warm, I’d soon have him all right again.... Colds don’t usually last very long with him.”
As she was tidying up the bed she chanced to get a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung on the wall behind it; she had to take a second look.... “Good gracious! What a sight I am to-day! No wonder he looked worried—he who always wants me so nice!” ... While she was waiting for the milk to simmer, she washed her face and combed her hair; that done, she opened the big chest, found her best Sunday garments, and hurriedly put them on.... Now then, she wasn’t quite so much of a scarecrow....
The milk boiled; she lifted it off the stove, went to the door, and called Per Hansa.... As a timid child enters a stranger’s house and does not dare to put aside his cap, so now Per Hansa stepped across his own threshold. Permand was still sitting by the table; his father caught sight of him there, and walking over to him, picked the boy up and sat down in his stead; then he put him on his lap and gently stroked his hair.... His voice was gone—it would not come.... All the while he was casting furtive glances at his wife; big beads of sweat stood on his forehead.
She brought him a cup of the steaming milk. “I put pepper in it; now you must get it down while it’s still hot.... Then you shall go right to bed and get good and warm!”
Without protest he did as she bade him, sipping cup after cup of the strong hot mixture; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her face.... But still he found no words to say to her; whenever he tried to speak his throat closed....
While he was drinking she came and sat down by his side, telling him innocently how topsy-turvy things had seemed to her to-day. Why, she had just lain down for a moment with the child, and when she woke up it had seemed as though she had been gone for years and a day! She laughed merrily as she told him about it.
Per Hansa listened in silence, looked at her, and drank of the hot mixture until the tears rolled down his cheeks.... She chatted on unconsciously, her voice low but full and very sweet; as he gazed at her, he saw in her face only intelligent concern—only loving solicitude—exactly like the dear Beret-girl that he used to know!... When he found it impossible to swallow another drop of the hot pepper-and-milk, she insisted that he lie down at once; if he would only take a good sweat, this cold would soon pass off. Per Hansa obeyed like a docile child, while she herself came and tucked the quilt around him.... “Now try to drop off to sleep.... Don’t worry—you’ll soon be all right.”