least about me! Nor Harald neither! The poor maid-servant, whom they had
need of in the mountain journey is superfluous in the dale. She may go;
they are happy now; they are sufficient to themselves. Whether I live or
die, or suffer, it is indifferent to them. Good, I will therefore no
longer trouble them. I will go, go far, far from here. I will trouble
myself no farther about them; I will forget them as they forget me."
But tears notwithstanding rolled involuntarily over Susanna's cheeks,
and the Barbra wrath ran away with them, and Sanna resumed--
"Yes, I will go: but I will bless them wherever I go. May they find a
maid equally faithful, equally devoted! May they never miss Susanna! And
then, my little Hulda, then my darling and sole joy, soon will I come to
thee. I will take thee into my arms, and carry thee to some still
corner, where undisturbed I may labour for thee. A bit of bread and a
quiet home, I shall find sufficient for us both. And when my heart
aches, I will clasp thee to me, thou little soft child, and thank God
that I have yet some one on earth whom I can love, and who loves me!"
Just as Susanna finished this ejaculation, she was at the door of her
room. She opened it--entered--and stood dumb with astonishment. Were her
senses yet confused, or did she now first wake out of year-long dreams?
She saw herself again in that little room in which she had spent so many
years of her youth, in that little room which she herself had fitted
up, had painted and embellished, and had often described to Harald;--and
there by the window stood the little Hulda's bed, with its flowery
coverlet, and blue muslin hangings. This scene caused the blood to rush
violently to Susanna's heart, and, out of herself, she cried--"Hulda! my
little Hulda!"
"Here I am, Sanna! Here is thy little Hulda!" answered the clear joyous
voice of a child, and the coverlet of the bed moved, and an angelically
beautiful child's head peeped out, and two small white arms stretched
themselves towards Susanna. With a cry of almost wild joy Susanna sprang
forward, and clasped the little sister in her arms.
Susanna was pale, wept and laughed, and knew not for some time what went
on around her. But when she had collected herself, she found herself
sitting on Hulda's bed, with the child folded in her arms, and over the
little, light-locked head, lifted itself a manly one, with an expression
of deep seriousness and gentle emotion.
"Entreat, Susanna, little Hulda," said Harald, "that she bestow a little
regard on me, and that she does not say nay to what you have granted me;
beg that I may call little Hulda my daughter, and that I may call your
Susanna, my Susanna!"
"Oh, yes! That shalt thou, Susanna!" exclaimed little Hulda, while she,
with child-like affection, threw her arms about Susanna's neck, and
continued zealously: "Oh, do like him, Susanna! He likes thee so much;
that he has told me so often, and he has himself brought me hither to
give thee joy. And seest thou this beautiful necklace he has given me,
and he has promised to tell me such pleasant stories in winter. He can
tell so many, do you know! Hast thou heard about Rypan in Justedale,
Sanna? He has told me that! And about the good lady who went about after
the Black Death, and collected all the motherless little children, and
was a mother to them. Oh, Sanna! Do like him, and let him be my father!"
Susanna let the little prattler go on without being able to say a word.
She buried her face in her bosom, and endeavoured to collect her
confused thoughts.
"Susanna," prayed Harald, restlessly and tenderly. "Look at me! Speak to
me a kind word!"
Then raised Susanna her burning and tear-bathed countenance, saying,
"Oh! how shall I ever be able to thank you?"
"How?" said Harold. "By making me happy, Susanna. By becoming my wife."
Susanna stood up, while she said with as much candour as cordiality,
"God knows best how happy I should feel myself, if I could believe--if
words were spoken for your own sake, and not merely for mine. But, ah! I
cannot do it. I know that it is your generosity and goodness----"
"Generosity? Then am I right generous towards myself. For I assure you,
Susanna, that I never thought more of my own advantage than at this
moment; that I am now as completely egotistical as you could desire."
"And your sister Alette," continued Susanna, with downcast eyes; "I know
that she does not wish to call me her sister, and----"
"And since Alette once was so stupid," said now a friendly female voice,
"therefore is she here to deprecate it." And Alette embraced heartily
the astonished Susanna, whilst she continued--"Oh, Susanna! without you
I should now no longer have a brother. I know you better now, and I have
read in the depths of his heart and know that he can now no longer be
happy but through you. Therefore I implore you, Susanna, implore you
earnestly, to make him happy. Be his wife, Susanna, and be my sister."
"And you, too, Alette," said Susanna, deeply moved; "will you too
mislead me with your sweet words? Ah! could you make me forget that it
is my weakness----that is, I who, through my confession have called
forth---- But that can I never; and therefore can I not believe you, ye
good, ye noble ones! And therefore I implore and adjure you----"
"What fine speeches are making here?" now interrupted a solemn voice,
and Mrs. Astrid stood before the affectionately contending group, and
spoke thus with an assumed sternness. "I will hope that my young
relatives and my daughter Susanna do not take upon them to transact and
to determine important affairs without taking me into the council. But
yes, I perceive by your guilty countenances that this is the fact; and
therefore I shall punish you altogether. Not another word of the
business then till eight days are over; and then I demand and require,
as lady and mistress of this house, that the dispute be brought before
me, and that I have a word to say in the decision. Susanna remains here
in the mean time in safe keeping, and I myself shall undertake to watch
her. Dost thou believe seriously, Susanna," and Mrs. Astrid's voice
changed into the most affectionate tones, while she clasped the young
maiden in her arms, "dost thou believe that thou canst so easily escape
me? No, no, my child! Thou deceivest thyself there. Since thou hast
saved our lives, thou hast become our life-captive--thou, and with thy
little Hulda! But supper is laid under the lime-trees in the garden, my
child; and let us gather strength from it for the approaching strife."
THE LAST STRIFE.
The wingéd troops hie
From the black woods outpouring;
Under them fly
Storms and waves roaring.
Over them waken
Mild stars, and beckon
The troop to the sheltering palms.
AUTUMN SONG, BY VELHAVEN.
There is on earth much sorrow and much darkness; there is crime and
sickness,--the shriek of despair, and the deep, long, silent torture.
Ah! who can name them all, the sufferings of humanity, in their
manifold, pale dispensations? But, God be praised! there is also an
affluence of goodness and joy; there are noble deeds, fulfilled hopes,
moments of rapture, decades of blissful peace, bright marriage-days, and
calm, holy death-beds.
Three months after the strife just mentioned, there was solemnised at
Semb, in Heimdal, one of those bright wedding-days, when the suns of
nature and of men's hearts combined to call forth on earth a paradise,
which is always to be found there, though frequently hidden, fettered,
deeply bound by the subterranean powers.
Yet from the faces of the fallen shine out
The lofty features of their heavenly birth,
And Daphne's heart beats 'neath the rugged bark.
TEGNER.
It was an autumn day, but one of those autumn days when a sun warm as
summer and a crystally pure air cause the earth to stand forth in the
brightest splendour before the azure-blue eyes of heaven; when Nature
resembles a novice, who adorns herself the most at the moment that she
is about to take the nun's veil, and to descend into her winterly grave.
The heights of the dale shone in the most gorgeous play of colours. The
dark pines, the soft-green firs, the golden-tinged birches, the hazels
with their pale leaves, and the mountain ashes with their bunches of
scarlet berries, arranged themselves on these in a variety of changing
masses; while the Heimdal river, intoxicated with the floods of heaven,
roared onward more impetuous and powerful than ever. Many-coloured
herds, which had returned fat and plump from the Säters, wandered on its
green banks. The chapel-bells rung joyously in the clear air, while the
church-going people streamed along the winding footpath from their
cottages towards the house of God. From the margin of the river at Semb
ran a little fleet of festally adorned boats. In the most stately of
these sate, under a canopy of leaves and flowers, the Lady of Semb; but
no longer the pale, sorrowful one, whose glances seemed to seek the
grave. A new youth appeared now to play upon her cheeks, to breathe upon
her lips, while the clear eyes, with a glad and quiet enjoyment, gazed
around her, now on the beauties of nature, and now on a more beautiful
sight which she had immediately before her eyes--a happy human pair.
Near her, more like a little angel than a mortal child, sate little
Hulda, with a wreath of the flowers called by the Norwegians
"thousand-peace," in her bright locks. All looks, however--as they
ought--were fixed on the bride and bridegroom; and both were, in truth,
handsome and charming to look upon; the more so, because they appeared
so perfectly happy. In a following boat was seen a little strife between
a young lady and her husband, who would wrap round her a cloak, which
she would not willingly have. The spectators were tempted to take part
with him in his tender care for the young wife, who was soon to become a
mother. The issue of this strife was, that--Alf got the upper hand of
Alette. Other boats contained other wedding guests. The men who rowed
the boats had all wreaths round their yellow straw hats. And thus so
advanced the little fleet, amid joyous music, along the river to the
chapel.
The chapel was a simple building, without any other ornament than a
beautiful altar-piece, and an abundance of flowers and green branches,
which now, for the occasion, adorned the seats, the walls, and the
floor.
The sermon was simple and cordial, the singing pure; in a word, no
dissonant tone came hither to disturb the devotion which the arrangement
of divine service in Norway is so well adapted to call forth and
maintain.[19]
Here Harald and Susanna called on heaven, from faithful and earnest
hearts, to bless their sincere intention, in joy and in trouble on the
earth, to love one another, and were declared by the congregation to be
a pair.
Many people had come this day to church; and when the wedding-train
returned homewards, many boats joined themselves to it, and followed it
to the opposite shore with singing and loud huzzas.
But Susanna did not feel herself truly calm and happy till in Mrs.
Astrid's quiet room she had bowed her forehead on her knee, and had felt
her maternal hands laid in blessing upon her head. Her heart was so full
of gratitude it seemed ready to burst.
"I have then a mother!" she exclaimed, as she embraced Mrs. Astrid's
knees, and looked up to her with the warmest and most child-like
affection;--"Ah! I am too happy, far too happy! God has given me, the
poor solitary one, a home and a mother----"
"And a husband, too! Forget him not, I beseech! He too will be
included!" said Harald, as he gently embraced Susanna, and also bent his
knee before the maternal friend.
Mrs. Astrid clasped them both warmly in her arms, and said, with a
still, inward voice, as she went with them to the window, whence was
seen the beautiful dale in all its whole extent: We begin to-day
together a new life, and we will together endeavour to make it happy. At
this moment when I stand, surrounded by you, my children, and looking
forward as it were into a beautiful future, I seem to myself so well to
understand how that may be. We have not here the treasures of art; we
have not the life of the great world, with its varying scenes to enliven
and entertain us; but our lives need not therefore be heavy and
earth-bound. We have Heaven, and we have--Nature! We will call down the
former into our hearts and into our home, and we will inquire of the
latter concerning its silent wonders, and through their contemplation
elevate our spirits. By the flame of our quiet hearth we will sometimes
contemplate the movements of the great world-drama, in order thereafter
with the greater joy to return to our own little scene, and consider how
we can best, each of us play out our part. "And I promise you
beforehand," continued Mrs. Astrid, assuming a playful tone, "that mine
shall not be, to make so long a speech as now."
But both Harald and Susanna joined in assuring Mrs. Astrid that she
could not possibly speak too long.
"Well, well," said she kindly; "if you will sometimes listen to the old
woman's preachings, she, on the other hand, will often be a child with
you, and learn with you, and of you. I am at this moment equally curious
about nature, and long to make a closer acquaintance with her. The
thought of it throws a kind of vernal splendour over my autumn."
"And assuredly," said Harald, "the intercourse with nature operates
beneficently, and with a youth-restoring power upon the human heart. I
always remember with delight the words of Goethe, when in his eightieth
year, he returned one spring from a visit in the country, sunburnt and
full of gladness: 'I have had a conversation with the vine,' said he,
'and you cannot believe what beautiful things it has said to me.' Do we
not seem here to behold a new golden age beam forth, in which the voices
of nature become audible to the ear of man, and he in conversation with
her to acquire higher wisdom and tranquillity of life?"
"Our wisdom," said Mrs. Astrid, as she looked smilingly around, "has not
in the mean time prevented Susanna from being more sensible than us,
for she has thought of the wedding-guests, while we have quite forgotten
them. But we will now follow her!"
* * * * *
After the wedding-dinner spiced with skåls and songs, and especially
with hearty merriment, Mrs. Astrid retired to her own room, and Alette
assumed the hostess's office in the company.
Sitting at her writing-table, Mrs. Astrid, with an animated air, and
quick respiration, sketched the following lines:
"Now come, come, my paternal friend, and behold your wishes, your
prognostications fulfilled; come and behold happiness and inexpressible
gratitude living in the bosom which so long was closed even to hope.
Come, and receive my contrition for my pusillanimity, for my murmurings;
come and help me to be thankful! I long to tell you orally how much is
changed within me; how a thousand germs of life and gladness, which I
believed to be dead, now spring up in my soul restored to youth. I
wonder daily over the feelings, the impressions which I experience; I
scarcely know myself again. Oh, my friend! how right you were--it is
never TOO LATE!
"Ah! that I could be heard by all oppressed, dejected souls! I would cry
to them--'Lift up your head, and confide still in the future, and
believe that it is never TOO LATE!' See! I too was bowed down by long
suffering, and old age had moreover overtaken me, and I believed that
all my strength had vanished; that my life, my sufferings were in
vain--and behold; my head has been again lifted up, my heart appeased,
my soul strengthened; and now, in my fiftieth year, I advance into a new
future, attended by all that life has of beautiful and worthy of love!
"The change in my soul has enabled me better to comprehend life and
suffering, and I am now firmly convinced _that there is no fruitless
suffering, and that no virtuous endeavour is in vain_. Winter days and
nights may bury beneath their pall of snow the sown corn; but when the
spring arrives, it will be found equally true, that 'there grows much
bread in the winter night.' It has pleased Providence to remove the
covering from my eyes here upon earth; for many others will this only
be removed when their eyes have closed on the earthly day; all will,
however, one day see what I now see, and acknowledge what I now
acknowledge with joy and thankfulness.
"Clear and bright now lies my way before me. In concert with my beloved
children, with the teacher of my youth, and my friend, who I hope will
spend in my house the evening of his days, I will convert this place
into a vale of peace. And when I shall leave it and them, may peace
still remain amongst them with my memory! And now, thou advancing age,
which already breathes coldly on my forehead; thou winter twilight of
earthly life, in which my days will sink more and more, come and
welcome! I fear thee no longer; for it has become warm and light in my
heart. Even under bodily spasms and pains, I will no more misconceive
the value of life; but with an eye open to all the good upon earth, I
will say to my dear ones:
Bewail me not, for I am still so blest,
The peace of heaven doth dwell within my breast."
Mrs. Astrid laid down her pen, and lifted up her tear-bright and beaming
eyes; she caught sight of Harald and Susanna, who arm-in-arm wandered
down the dale. They went on in gladness, and yet seemed to contend; and
the question between them was, indeed, upon a most important
matter--namely, which of them should hereafter have in their house the
_last word_. Harald wished that this should hereafter be, as lord and
master, his exclusive prerogative. Susanna declared that she should not
trouble herself about his prerogative; but when she was in the right
intended to persist in it to the uttermost. In the mean time they had
unconsciously advanced to the spring--the Water of Strife--which had
witnessed their first contention, and over which now doves, as at the
first time, circled with silver-glancing wings. And here Harald seized
Susanna's hand, led her to the spring, and said solemnly--
"My wife! I have hitherto spoken jestingly, but now is the moment of
seriousness. Our forefathers swore by the bright water of Leipter, and I
now swear by the water of this clear spring, that if thou hereafter
shalt oppose me beyond the power of my mind to bear, I will silence
thee, and compel thee to hold thy peace in this manner----"
The doves, attracted by some wonderful sympathy, now flew rapidly down
upon the head and shoulders of the young couple. All strife was hushed,
and you might hear the soft and playful murmur of the spring, which
seemed to whisper about--what?
Oh, heaven-azure well,
Say what thou now didst see!
The well whispered--
By a kiss--two disputants
United happily!
"Aha! here we have them!" exclaimed a merry voice, a little way behind
the two who were kissing; "but I must tell you that it is not polite
thus to leave your guests, to----"
"Come, Susanna," interposed Alette, smiling, whilst she took the arm of
the deeply blushing Susanna, "come, and let us leave these egotistical
gentlemen, who always will be waited upon, to themselves a little. It
does them an infinite deal of good. We will in the mean time go
together, and open our hearts to each other about them."
"Sweet Alette!" said Susanna, glad in this way to be released from
Brother-in-law Lexow's jokes, "how happy it makes me to see you so gay
and healthy, spite of your residence up in the North, which you feared
so much."
"Ah!" said Alette, softly and sincerely, "a husband like my Lexow can
make summer and happiness blossom forth all over the earth; but----" and
now again the melancholy expression crept over Alette's countenance; but
she constrained herself, and continued joyfully, "but we need not now
hold forth in praise of these good gentlemen, who, I observe, have
nothing better to do than to come and listen to us; and therefore--(and
here Alette raised her voice significantly)--since we have done with my
dear husband, we will give yours his well-merited share. Has he not
shockingly many faults? Is he not--between us two--selfish and
despotic?"
"That I deny!" exclaimed Harald, as he sprang forward, and placed
himself before Susanna; "and thou, my wife, contradict it if
thou--dare."
"Dare!" exclaimed Alette; "she must dare it, for you strengthen my word
by your deed. Is he not a despot, Susanna?"
"Am I a despot, Susanna? I say a thousand times 'No!' thereto. What dost
thou say?"
"I say--nothing," said Susanna, blushing, with a graceful movement, and
drew closer to Alette; "but--I think what I will."
"It is good, however," cried Harald, "that I have found out a way to
have the last word!"
"Have you discovered that, brother-in-law?" said Lexow, laughing; "now,
that is almost a more important discovery than that which Columbus made.
Impart it to me above all things."
"It will serve you nothing at all," said Alette, as, with jesting
defiance, she turned her pretty little head towards him; "because my
last word is, in every case, a different kind of one to yours."
"How?"
"Yes. My last word, as well as my last thought, remains--Alf!"
"My Alette! my sweet Alette! why these tears?"
"Susanna," whispered Harald, "I will prepare you for it in time, that my
last word remains--Sanna!"
"And mine--Harald!"
Susanna went now again on Harald's arm, Alette on her Alf's.
* * * * *
After we have, towards the end of our relation, presented such cheerful
scenes--ah! why must we communicate one of a more tragical nature? But
so fate commands, and we are compelled to relate, that----the grey and
the white ganders--weep not, sentimental reader!--which already, three
weeks before Susanna's marriage, had been put up to fatten, closed a
contentious life a few days before the same, and were united in a
magnificent _à la daube_, which was served up and eaten, to celebrate
the day of Harald's and Susanna's Last Strife and the beginning of an
eternal union.
* * * * *
Often afterwards, during her happy married life, stood Susanna by the
clear spring, surrounded by the feathered herd, which she fed, whilst
she sang to two little, healthy, brown-eyed boys, and to a young
blooming girl, this little song, with the conviction of a happy heart:
At times a little brawl
Injures not at all,
If we only love each other still
Cloudy heaven clears
Itself, and bright appears,
For such is Nature's will.
The heart within its cage
Is a bird in rage,
Which doth madly strive to fly!
Love and truth can best
Flatter it to rest,
Flatter it to rest so speedily.[20]
FOOTNOTES:
[19] The divine service in Norway is not, as still in Sweden, mingled
with worldly affairs. After the sermon merely some short prayers are
read, in which the clergyman blesses the people in the same words which
for thousands of years have been uttered over the wanderers of the
deserts. They have not here the barbaric custom of reading from the
pulpit announcements of all possible things--inquiries after thieves and
stolen pieces of clothing, etc., which, to the worshippers, and
especially to the partakers of the sacrament, are so unspeakably
painful, and in cold winter days are enough to freeze all devotion.
AN AFTER-WORD.