BEFORE THE BIRTH
The children were now out of their care--that is to say, all the
eight of them. Soeren and Maren were now no longer young. The wear
and tear of time and toil began to be felt; and it would have been
good to have had something as a stand-by. Soerine, the youngest, was
as far as that goes, also out of their care, in that she was grown
up and ought long ago to have been pushed out of the nest; but there
was a reason for her still remaining at home supported by her old
parents.
She was very much spoiled, this girl--as the youngest can easily be;
she was delicate and bashful with strangers. But, as Maren thought,
when one has given so many children to the world, it was pleasant to
keep one of them for themselves; nests without young ones soon
become cold. Soeren in the main thought just the same, even if he did
grumble and argue that one woman in the house was more than enough.
They were equally fond of children. And hearing so seldom from the
others they clung more closely to the last one. So Soerine remained
at home and only occasionally took outside work in the hamlet or at
the nearest farms behind the downs. She was supposed to be a pretty
girl, and against this Soeren had nothing to say: but what he could
see was that she did not thrive, her red hair stood like a flame
round her clear, slightly freckled forehead, her limbs were fragile,
and strength in her there was none. When speaking to people she
could not meet their eyes, her own wandered anxiously away.
The young boys from the hamlet came wooing over the downs and hung
round the hut--preferably on the warm nights; but she hid herself
and was afraid of them.
"She takes after the bad side of the family," said Soeren, when he
saw how tightly she kept her window closed.
"She takes after the fine side," said the mother then. "Just you
wait and see, she will marry a gentleman's son."
"Fool," growled Soeren angrily and went his way: "to fill both her
own and the girl's head with such rubbish!"
He was fond enough of Maren, but her intellect had never won his
respect. As the children grew up and did wrong in one way or
another, Soeren always said: "What a fool the child is--it takes
after its mother." And Maren, as years went on, bore patiently with
this; she knew quite as well as Soeren that it was not intellect that
counted.
Two or three times in the week, Soerine went up town with a load of
fish and brought goods home again. It was a long way to walk, and
part of the road went through a pine wood where it was dark in the
evening and tramps hung about.
"Oh, trash," said Soeren, "the girl may just as well try a little of
everything, it will make a woman of her."
But Maren wished to shelter her child, as long as she could. And so
she arranged it in this way, that her daughter could drive home in
the cart from Sands farm which was then carrying grain for the
brewery.
The arrangement was good, inasmuch as Soerine need no longer go in
fear of tramps, and all that a timid young girl might encounter;
but, on the other hand, it did not answer Maren's expectations. Far
from having taken any harm from the long walks, it was now proved
what good they had done her. She became even more delicate than
before, and dainty about her food.
This agreed well with the girl's otherwise gentle manners. In spite
of the trouble it gave her, this new phase was a comfort to Maren.
It took the last remaining doubt from her heart: it was now
irrevocably settled. Soerine was a gentlefolks' child, not by birth,
of course--for Maren knew well enough who was father and who mother
to the girl, whatever Soeren might have thought--but by gift of
grace. It did happen that such were found in a poor man's cradle,
and they were always supposed to bring joy to their parents.
Herrings and potatoes, flounders and potatoes and a little bacon in
between--this was no fare for what one might call a young lady.
Maren made little delicacies for her, and when Soeren saw it, he
spat as if he had something nasty in his mouth and went his way.
But, after all one can be too fastidious, and when at last the girl
could not keep down even an omelet, it was too much of a good thing
for Maren. She took her daughter up to a wise woman who lived on the
common. Three times did she try her skill on Soerine, with no avail.
So Soeren had to borrow a horse and cart and drove them in to the
homeopathist. He did it very unwillingly. Not because he did not
care for the girl, and it might be possible, as Maren said, that as
she slept, an animal or evil spirit might have found its way into
her mouth and now prevented the food from going down. Such things
had been heard of before. But actually to make fools of themselves
on this account--rushing off with horse and cart to the doctor just
as the gentry did, and make themselves, too, the laughing stock of
the whole hamlet, when a draught of tansy would have the same
effect--this was what Soeren could not put up with.
But, of course, although the daily affairs were settled by Soeren
Man, there were occasions when Maren insisted on having her
way--more so when it seriously affected _her_ offspring. Then she
could--as with witchcraft--suddenly forget her good behavior, brush
aside Soeren's arguments as endless nonsense, and would stand there
like a stone wall which one could neither climb over, nor get round.
Afterwards he would be sorry that the magic word which should have
brought Maren down from her high and mightiness, failed him at the
critical moment. For she _was_ a fool--especially when it affected
her offspring. But, whether right or wrong, when she had her great
moments, fate spoke through her mouth, and Soeren was wise enough to
remain silent.
This time it certainly seemed as if Maren was in the right; for the
cure which the homeopathist prescribed, effervescent powder and
sweet milk, had a wonderful effect. Soerine throve and grew fat, so
that it was a pleasure to see her.
There can be too much of a good thing, and Soeren Man, who had to
provide the food, was the first to think of this. Soerine and her
mother talked much together and wondered what the illness could be,
could it be this or could it be that? There was a great to-do and
much talking with their heads together; but, as soon as Soeren
appeared, they became silent.
He had become quite unreasonable, going about muttering and
swearing. As though it was not hard enough already, especially for
the poor girl! He had no patience with a sick person, beggar that he
was; and one day it broke out from him with bitterness and rage:
"She must be--it can be nothing else."
But like a tiger, Maren was upon him.
"What are you talking about, you old stupid? Have _you_ borne eight
children, or has the girl told you what's amiss? A sin and a shame
it is to let her hear such talk; but now it is done, you might just
as well ask her yourself. Answer your father, Soerine--is it true,
what he says?"
Soerine sat drooping by the fireplace, suffering and scared. "Then it
would be like the Virgin Mary," she whispered, without looking up.
And suddenly sank down, sobbing.
"There, you can see yourself, what a blockhead you are," said Maren
harshly. "The girl is as pure as an unborn child. And here you come,
making all this racket in the house, while the child, perhaps, may
be on the point of death."
Soeren Man bowed his head, and hurried out on to the downs. Ugh! it
was just like thunder overhead. Blockhead she had called him--for
the first time in the whole of their life together; he would have
liked to have forced that word home again and that, at once, before
it stuck to him. But to face a mad, old wife and a howling girl--no,
he kept out of it.
Soeren Man was an obstinate fellow; when once he got a thing into his
three-cornered head, nothing could hammer it out again. He said
nothing, but went about with a face which said: "Ay, best not to
come to words with women folk!" Maren, however, did not
misunderstand him. Well, as long as he kept it to himself. There was
the girl torturing herself, drinking petroleum, and eating soft soap
as if she were mad, because she had heard it was good for internal
weakness. It was too bad; it was adding insult to injury to be
jeered at--by her own father too.
At that time he was as little at home as possible, and Maren had
no objection as it kept him and his angry glare out of their way.
When not at sea, he lounged about doing odd jobs, or sat gossiping
high up on the downs, from where one could keep an eye on every
boat going out or coming in. Generally, he was allowed to go in
peace, but when Soerine was worse than usual, Maren would come
running--piteous to see in her motherly anxiety--and beg him to
take the girl in to town to be examined before it was too late.
Then he would fall into a passion and shout--not caring who might
hear: "Confound you, you old nuisance--have you had eight children
yourself and still can't see what ails the girl?"
Before long he would repent, for it was impossible to do without
house and home altogether; but immediately he put his foot inside
the door the trouble began. What was he to do? He had to let off
steam, to prevent himself from going mad altogether with all this
woman's quibbling. Whatever the result might be, he was tempted to
stand on the highest hill and shout his opinion over the whole
hamlet, just for the pleasure of getting his own back.
One day, as he was sitting on the shore weighting the net, Maren
came flying over the downs: "Now, you had better send for the
doctor," said she, "or the girl will slip through our fingers. She's
taking on so, it's terrible to hear."
Soeren also had himself heard moans from the hut; he was beside
himself with anger and flung a pebble at her. "Confound you, are you
deaf too, that you cannot hear what that sound means?" shouted he.
"See and get hold of a midwife--and that at once; or I'll teach
you."
When Maren saw him rise, she turned round and ran home again. Soeren
shrugged his shoulders and fetched the midwife himself. He stayed
outside the hut the whole afternoon without going in, and when it
was evening he went down to the inn. It was a place within which he
seldom set his foot; there was not sufficient money for that; if
house and home should have what was due to it. With unaccustomed
shaking hand he turned the handle, opened the door with a jerk and
stood with an uncertain air in the doorway.
"So, that was it, after all," said he with miserable bravado. And he
repeated the same sentence over and over again the whole evening,
until it was time to stumble home.
Maren was out on the down waiting for him; when she saw the state he
was in, she burst into tears. "So, that was----" he began, with a
look which should have been full of withering scorn--but suddenly he
stopped. Maren's tears moved him strangely deep down under
everything else; he had to put his arms round her neck and join in
her tears.
The two old people sat on the down holding each other until their
tears were spent. Already considerable evil had fallen in the path
of this new being; now fell the first tears.
When they had got home and busied themselves with mother and child
and had gone to rest in the big double bed, Maren felt for Soeren's
hand. So she had always fallen asleep in their young days, and now
it was as if something of the sweetness of their young days rose up
in her again--was it really owing to the little lovechild's sudden
appearance, or what?
"Now, perhaps, you'll agree 'twas as I told you all along," said
Soeren, just as they were falling asleep.
"Ay, 'twas so," said Maren. "But how it could come about ... for men
folk...."
"Oh, shut up with that nonsense," said Soeren, and they went to
sleep.
* * * * *
So Maren eventually had to give in. "Though," as Soeren said, "like
as not one fine day she'd swear the girl had never had a child."
Womenfolk! Ugh! there was no persuading them.
Anyhow, Maren was too clever to deny what even a blind man could see
with a stick; and it was ever so much easier for her to admit the
hard truth; in spite of the girl's innocent tears and solemn
assurances, there was a man in the case all the same, and he
moreover, the farmer's son. It was the son of the owner of Sands
farm, whom Soerine had driven home with from the town--in fear of the
dark forest.
"Ay, you managed it finely--keeping the girl away from vagabonds,"
said Soeren, looking out of the corners of his eyes towards the new
arrival.
"Rubbish! A farmer's son is better than a vagabond, anyway,"
answered Maren proudly.
After all it was she who was right; had she not always said there
was refinement in Soerine? There was blue blood in the girl!
One day, Soeren had to put on his best clothes and off he went to
Sands farm.
"'Twas with child she was, after all," said he, going straight to
the point. "'Tis just born."
"Oh, is it," said the farmer's son who stood with his father on the
thrashing-floor shaking out some straw. "Well, that's as it may be!"
"Ay, but she says you're the father."
"Oh, does she! Can she prove it, I'd like to know."
"She can take her oath on it, she can. So you had better marry the
girl."
The farmer's son shouted with laughter.
"Oh, you laugh, do you?" Soeren picked up a hayfork and made for the
lad, who hid behind the threshing-machine, livid with fear.
"Look here," the boy's father broke in: "Don't you think we two old
ones had better go outside and talk the matter over? Young folk
nowadays are foolish. Whatever the boy's share in the matter may be,
I don't believe he'll marry her," began he, as they were outside.
"That he shall, though," answered Soeren, threateningly.
"Look you, the one thing to compel him is the law--and that she will
not take, if I know anything about her. But, I'll not say but he
might help the girl to a proper marriage--will you take two hundred
crowns once and for all?"
Soeren thought in his own mind that it was a large sum of money for a
poor babe, and hurried to close the bargain in case the farmer might
draw back.
"But, no gossip, mind you, now. No big talk about relationship and
that kind of thing," said the farmer as he followed Soeren out of the
gate. "The child must take the girl's name--and no claim on us."
"No, of course not!" said Soeren, eager to be off. He had got the two
hundred crowns in his inner pocket, and was afraid the farmer might
demand them back again.
"I'll send you down a paper one of these days and get your receipt
for the money," said the farmer. "It is best to have it fixed up all
right and legal."
He said the word "legal" with such emphasis and familiarity that
Soeren was more than a little startled.
"Yes, yes," was all Soeren said and slipped into the porch with his
cap between his hands. It was not often he took his hat off to any
one, but the two hundred crowns had given him respect for the
farmer. The people of Sands farm were a race who, if they did break
down their neighbor's fence, always made good the damage they had
done.
Soeren started off and ran over the fields. The money was more than
he and Maren had ever before possessed. All he had to do now was to
lay out the notes in front of her so as to make a show that she
might be impressed. For Maren had fixed her mind on the farmer's
son.