The night of the dance at Strong Ingmar's, Tims Halvor was away
from home, and his wife, Karin, slept alone in the little chamber
off the living-room. In the night Karin had a frightful dream. She
dreamt that Elof was alive and was holding a big revel. She could
hear him in the next room clinking glasses, laughing loudly, and
singing ribald songs. She thought, in the dream, that Elof and his
boon companions were getting noisier and noisier, and at last it
sounded as though they were trying to break up both tables and
chairs. Then Karin became so frightened that she awoke. But even
after she had awakened the noise continued. The earth shook, the
windows rattled, the tiles on the roof were loosened, and the old
pear trees at the gables lashed the house with their stout
branches. It was as if Judgment Day had come.
Just when the noise was at its height a window pane was sprung,
and the shattered glass fell jingling against the floor. A violent
gust of wind rushed through the room, and then Karin thought she
heard a laugh quite close to her ear--the same kind of laugh that
she had heard in the dream. She fancied she was about to die. Never
had she felt such a sense of terror; her heart stopped, and her
whole body became numb and cold as ice.
All at once the noise died down, and Karin, as it were, came back
to life. The raw night wind came sweeping into the room; so after a
little Karin decided to get up and stuff something into the broken
window pane. As she stepped out of the bed, her legs gave way, and
she found that she could not walk. She did not cry for help, but
quietly laid down again. "I'll surely be able to walk when I feel
more composed," she thought. In a few moments she made another
attempt. This time, too, her legs failed her, and she fell prone on
the floor beside the bed.
In the morning, when people were astir in the house, the doctor was
called in. He was at a loss to understand what had come over Karin.
She did not appear to be ill, nor was she paralyzed. He was of the
opinion that her trouble had been brought on by fright.
"You'll soon be all right again," he assured her. Karin listened to
the doctor, but said nothing. She felt certain that Elof had been
in the room during the night, and that he was the cause of her
trouble. She also had the feeling that she would never recover from
this shock.
All that morning she sat up in bed, and brooded. She tried to
reason out why God had let this trial come upon her. She examined
her conscience thoroughly, but could not discover that she had
committed any special sin that merited such a terrible punishment.
"God is unjust to me," she thought.
In the afternoon she was taken to Storm's mission house, where at
that time a lay preacher named Dagson led the meetings. She hoped
that he could tell her why she had been punished in this way.
Dagson was a popular speaker, and never had he had so many hearers
as on that afternoon. My, but what a gathering of people down at
the mission house! And no one talked of anything but what had
happened in the night at Strong Ingmar's hut. The whole community
was in a state of terror, and had turned out in full force, in
order to hear the Word of God preached with a force that would
annihilate their fears. Hardly a quarter of the people could get
inside; but windows and doors were wide open, and Dagson had such a
powerful voice that he could be heard even by those on the outside.
Of course he knew what had occurred, and what the people wanted to
hear. He opened his address with a terror-striking word picture of
hell and the prince of darkness. He reminded them of the evil one
who skulks about in the dark to capture souls, who lays the snares
of sin and sets the traps of vice. The people shuddered. They
seemed to see a world full of devils, tempting and enticing them to
destruction. Everything was a sin and a danger. They were wandering
among pitfalls, hunted and tormented like the wild beasts of the
forest. When Dagson talked in this strain, his voice pierced the
room like a blasting wind, and his words were like tongues of fire.
All who heard Dagson's sermon likened it to a roaring torrent of
flame. With all this talk about demons and fire and smoke, they had
the same feeling as when trapped in a burning forest--when the fire
creeps along the moss upon which you are treading, and smoke clouds
fill the air you breathe, and the heat singes your hair, while the
roar of the fire fills your ears, and flying sparks set fire to
your clothing.
Thus did Dagson drive the people through flame and smoke and
desolation. They had fire in front of them, fire behind them, and
fire to left and right of them, and saw only destruction ahead of
them. Yet, after taking them through all these horrors, he finally
led them to a green spot in the forest, where it was peaceful and
cool and safe. In the centre of a flowery meadow sat Jesus, with
His arms outstretched toward the fleeing and hunted men and women
who cast themselves at His feet. Now all danger was past, and they
suffered no further distress nor persecution.
Dagson spoke as he himself felt. If he could only lay himself down
at Jesus' feet, a sense of great peace and serenity would come to
him, and he had no more fear of the snares of the world.
After the service there was great emotional excitement. Many
persons rushed up to the speaker and thanked him, with tears
streaming down their faces. They told him that his words had
awakened them to a true faith in God. But all this time Karin sat
unmoved. When Dagson had finished speaking, she raised her heavy
eyelids and looked up at him, as if reproaching him for not having
given her anything. Just then some one outside cried in a voice
loud enough to be heard by the entire congregation:
"Woe, woe, woe to those who give stones for bread! Woe, woe, woe to
those who give stones for bread!"
Whereupon everybody rushed out, curious to see who it was that had
spoken those words, and Karin was left sitting there in her
helplessness. Presently members of her own household came back, and
told her that the person who had cried out like that was a tall,
dark stranger. He and a pretty, fair-haired woman had been seen
coming down the road, in a cart, during the service. They had
stopped to listen, and just as they were about to drive on, the man
had risen up and spoken. Some folks thought they knew the woman.
They said she was one of Strong Ingmar's daughters--one of those
who had gone to America and married there. The man was evidently
her husband. Of course it is not so easy to recognize a person whom
one has known as a young girl in the ordinary peasant costume, when
she comes back a grown woman dressed up in city clothes.
Karin and the stranger were evidently of the same mind regarding
Dagson. Karin never went to the mission house again. But later in
the summer, when a Baptist layman came to the parish, baptizing and
exhorting, she went to hear him, and when the Salvation Army began
to hold meetings in the village, she also attended one of these.
The parish was in the throes of a great religious upheaval. At all
the meetings there were awakenings and conversions. The people
seemed to find what they had been seeking. Yet among all those whom
Karin had heard preach, not one could give her any consolation.
***
A blacksmith named Birger Larsson had a smithy close by the
highroad. His shop was small and dark, with a low door, and an
aperture in place of a window. Birger Larsson made common knives,
mended locks, put tires on wheels and on sled runners. When there
was nothing else to be done, he forged nails.
One evening, in the summer, there was a rush of work at the smithy.
At one anvil stood Birger Larsson flattening the heads of nails;
his eldest son was at another anvil forging iron rods and cutting
off pins. A second son was blowing the bellows, a third carried
coal to the forge, turned the iron, and, when at white heat,
brought it to the smiths. The fourth son, who was not more than
seven years old, gathered up the finished nails and threw them into
a trough filled with water, afterward bunching and tying them.
While they were all hard at work a stranger came up and stationed
himself in the doorway. He was a tall, swarthy-looking man, and he
had to bend almost double to look in. Birger Larsson glanced up
from his work to see what the man wanted.
"I hope you don't mind my looking in, although I have no special
errand here," said the stranger. "I was a blacksmith myself in my
younger days, and can never pass by a smithy without first stopping
to glance in at the work."
Birger Larsson noticed that the man had large, sinewy hands--regular
blacksmith's hands. He at once began to question him as to who he
was and whence he came. The man answered pleasantly, but without
disclosing his identity. Birger thought him clever and likable,
and after showing him around the shop, he went outside with him
and began to brag about his sons. He had seen hard times, he said,
before the boys were big enough to help with the work; but now
that all of them were able to lend a hand, everything went well.
"In a few years I expect to be a rich man," he declared.
The stranger smiled a little at that and said he was pleased to
hear that Birger's sons were so helpful to him. Placing his heavy
hand on Birger's shoulder, and looking him square in the eyes, he
said: "Since you have had such good aid from your sons in a
material way, I suppose you also let them help you in the things
that pertain to the spirit?" Birger stared stupidly. "I see that
this is a new thought to you," the stranger added. "Ponder it till
we meet again." Then he went on his way smiling, and Birger
Larsson, scratching his head, returned to his work. But the
stranger's query haunted his mind for several days. "I wonder what
made him say that?" he mused. "There must be something back of it
all that I don't understand."
***
The day after the stranger had talked with Birger Larsson an
extraordinary thing took place at Tims Halvor's old shop, which
since his marriage to Karin had been turned over to his
brother-in-law, Bullet Gunner. Gunner was away at the time, and, in
his absence, Brita Ingmarsson tended the shop. Brita was named
after her mother, Big Ingmar's handsome wife, whose good looks she
had inherited. Moreover, she had the distinction of being the
prettiest girl ever born and reared on the Ingmar Farm. Although
she bore no outward resemblance to the old Ingmars, she was,
nevertheless, quite as conscientious and upright as any of them.
When Gunner was absent Brita always ran the business in her own
way. Whenever old Corporal Felt would come stumbling in, tipsy and
shaky, and ask for a bottle of beer, Brita would give him a blunt
"No," and when poor Kolbjörn's Lena came and wanted to buy a fine
brooch, Brita sent her home with several pounds of rye meal. The
peasant woman who dropped in to buy some light flimsy fabric was
told to go home and weave suitable and durable cloth on her own
loom. And no children dared come into the shop to spend their poor
coppers for candy and raisins when Brita was in charge there.
That day Brita had not many customers. So for hours and hours she
sat quite alone, staring into vacancy, despair burning in her eyes.
By and by she got up and took out a rope; then she moved a little
stepladder from the shop into the back room. After that she made a
loop in one end of the rope, and fastened the other end to a hook
in the ceiling. Just as she was about to slip her head into the
noose, she happened to look down.
At that moment the door opened and in walked a tall, dark man. He
had evidently entered the shop without her having heard him, and on
finding no one in attendance, had stepped behind the counter and
opened the door to the next room.
Brita quietly came down from the ladder. The man did not speak, but
withdrew into the shop, Brita slowly following him. She had never
seen the man before. She noticed that he had black curly hair,
throat whiskers, keen eyes, and big, sinewy hands. He was well
dressed, but his bearing was that of a labourer. After seating
himself on a rickety chair near the door, he began to stare hard at
Brita.
By that time Brita was again standing behind the counter. She did
not ask him what he wanted; she only wished he would go away. The
man just stared and stared, never once taking his eyes off her.
Brita felt that she was being held by his gaze, and could not move.
Presently she grew impatient, and said, in her mind: "What's the
use of your sitting there watching me? Can't you understand that
I'm going to do what I want to do, anyhow, as soon as I'm left
alone? If this were only something that could be helped," Brita
argued mentally, "I wouldn't mind your hindering me, but it can't
be remedied now."
All the while the man sat gazing intently at her.
"Let me say to you that we Ingmars are not fitted to be
shopkeepers," Brita continued in her thoughts. "You don't know
how happy we were, Gunner and I, till he took up with this
business. Folks certainly warned me against marrying him; they
didn't like him, on account of his black hair, his piercing eyes,
and his sharp tongue. But we two were fond of each other, you see,
and there was never a cross word between us till Gunner took over
the shop. But since then all has not been well. I want him to
conduct the business in my way. I can't abide his selling wine and
beer to drunkards, and it seems to me that he ought to encourage
people in buying only such things as are useful and necessary; but
Gunner thinks this a ridiculous notion. Neither of us will give in
to the other, so we are forever wrangling, and now he doesn't care
for me any more."
She gave the man a savage look, amazed at his not yielding to her
mute entreaties.
"Surely you must understand that I cannot go on living under the
shame of knowing that he lets the bailiff serve executions upon
poor people and take from them their only cow or a couple of sheep!
Can't you see that this thing will never come right? Why don't you
go, and let me put an end to it all!"
Brita, under the man's gaze, gradually became quieter in her mind,
and in a little while she began to cry softly. She was touched by
his sitting there and protecting her against herself.
As soon as the man saw that Brita was weeping, he rose and went
toward the door. When he was on the doorstep, he turned and again
looked straight into her eyes, and said in a deep voice: "Do
thyself no harm, for the time is nearing when thou shalt live in
righteousness."
Then he went his way. She could hear his heavy footsteps as he
walked, down the road. Brita ran into the little room, took down
the rope, and carried the stepladder back into the shop. Then she
dropped down on a box, where she sat quietly musing for two full
hours. She felt, somehow, that for a long time she had wandered in
a darkness so thick that she could not see her hand before her. She
had lost her way and knew not whither she had strayed, and with
every step she had been afraid of sinking into a quagmire or
stumbling headlong into an abyss. Now some one had called to her
not to go any farther, but to sit down and wait for the break of
day. She was glad that she would not have to continue her perilous
wanderings; now she sat quietly waiting for the dawn.
***
Strong Ingmar had a daughter who was called Anna Lisa. She had
lived in Chicago for a number of years, and had married there a
Swede named John Hellgum, who was the leader of a little band of
religionists with a faith and doctrine of their own. The day after
the memorable dance night at Strong Ingmar's, Anna Lisa and her
husband had come home to pay a visit to her old father.
Hellgum passed his time taking long walks about the parish. He
struck up an acquaintance with all whom he met on the way. He
talked with them at first of commonplace things; but just before
parting with a person, he would always place his large hand upon
his or her shoulder, and speak a few words of comfort or warning.
Strong Ingmar saw very little of his son-in-law, for that summer
the old man and young Ingmar, who had now gone back to the Ingmar
Farm to live, were hard at work daytimes putting up a sawmill below
the rapids. It was a proud day for Strong Ingmar when the sawmill
was ready and the first log had been turned into white planks by
the buzzing saws.
One evening on his way home from work, the old man met Anna Lisa on
the road. She looked frightened, and wanted to run away. Strong
Ingmar, seeing this, quickened his pace, thinking all was not well
at home. When he reached his but he stopped short, frowning. As far
back as he could remember, a certain rosebush had been growing
outside the door. It had been the apple of his eye. He had never
allowed any one to pluck a rose or a leaf from that bush. Strong
Ingmar had always guarded the bush very tenderly, because he
believed it sheltered elves and fairies. But now it had been cut
down. Of course it was his son-in-law, the preacher, who had done
this, as the sight of the bush had always been an eyesore to him.
Strong Ingmar had his axe with him, and his grip on the handle
tightened as he entered the hut. Inside sat Hellgum with an open
Bible before him. He raised his eyes and gave the old man a
piercing look, then went on with his reading; this time aloud:
"Even as ye think, we will be as the heathen, as the families of
the countries, to serve wood and stone, it shall not be at all as
ye think. As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand,
and with stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule
over you--"
Without a word Strong Ingmar turned and walked out of the house.
That night he slept in the barn. The following day he and Ingmar
Ingmarsson set out for the forest to burn charcoal and fell timber.
They were to be gone the whole winter.
On two or three occasions Hellgum had spoken at prayer meetings and
outlined his teaching, which he maintained was the only true
Christianity. But Hellgum, who was not as eloquent a speaker as
Dagson, had made no converts. Those who had met him outside and had
only heard him say a few telling words, expected great things from
him; but when he tried to deliver a lengthy address he became
heavy, prosy, and tiresome.
***
Toward the close of summer Karin became utterly despondent over her
condition. She rarely spoke. All day long she sat motionless in her
chair. She went to hear no more preachers, but stayed at home,
brooding over her misfortune. Once in a while she would repeat to
Halvor her father's old saying about the Ingmars not having
anything to fear so long as they walked in the ways of God. Now she
had come to the conclusion that there was no truth even in that.
Halvor, not knowing what to do, on one occasion suggested that she
talk with the newest preacher, but Karin declared that she would
never again look to a parson for help.
One Sunday, toward the end of August, Karin sat at the window in
the living-room. A Sabbath stillness rested over the farm, and she
could hardly keep awake. Her head kept sinking nearer and nearer
her breast, and presently she dropped into a doze.
She was suddenly awakened by the sound of a voice just outside her
window. She could not see who the speaker was, but the voice was
strong and deep. A more beautiful voice she had never heard.
"I know, Halvor, that it doesn't seem reasonable to you that a
poor, uneducated blacksmith should have found the truth, when so
many learned men have failed," said the voice.
"I don't see how you can be so sure of that," Halvor questioned.
"It's Hellgum talking to Halvor," thought Karin, trying to close
the window, which she was unable to reach.
"It has been said, as you know," Hellgum went on, "that if somebody
strikes us on one cheek we must turn the other cheek also, and that
we should not resist evil, and other things of the same sort; all
of which none of us can live up to. Why, people would rob you of
your house and home, they'd steal your potatoes and carry off your
grain, if you failed to protect what was yours. I guess they'd take
the whole Ingmar Farm from you."
"Maybe you're right," Halvor admitted.
"Well, then, I suppose Christ didn't mean anything when He said all
that; He was just talking into the air, eh?"
"I don't know what you're driving at!" said Halvor.
"Now here's something to set you thinking," Hellgum continued. "We
are supposed to be very far advanced in our Christianity. There's
no one nowadays who steals, no one who commits murder or wrongs the
widow and the fatherless, and of course no one hates or persecutes
his neighbour any more, and it wouldn't occur to any of us, who
have such a good religion, to do any wrong!"
"There are many things that aren't just as they ought to be,"
drawled Halvor. He sounded sleepy, and anything but interested.
"Now if you had a threshing machine that wouldn't work, you'd find
out what was wrong with it. You wouldn't give yourself any rest
till you had discovered wherein it was faulty. But when you see
that it is simply impossible to get people to lead a Christian
life, shouldn't you try to find out whether there is anything the
matter with Christianity itself?"
"I can't believe there are any flaws in the teachings of Jesus,"
said Halvor.
"No, they were unquestionably sound from the start; but it may be
that they have become a little rusty, as it were, from neglect. In
any perfect mechanism, if a cog happens to slip--only one tiny
little cog--instantly the whole machinery stops!"
He paused a moment as if searching for words and proofs.
"Now let me tell you what happened to me a few years ago," he
resumed. "I then tried for the first time in my life to really live
by the teachings. Do you know what the result was? I was at that
time working in a factory. When my fellow-workmen found out what
manner of man I was, they let me do a good share of their work in
addition to my own. In thanks they took the job away from me by
conniving to throw the blame on me for a theft committed by one of
them. I was arrested, of course, and sent to the penitentiary."
"One doesn't ordinarily run across such bad people," returned
Halvor indifferently.
"Then said I to myself: It wouldn't be very hard to be a Christian
if one were only alone on this earth, and there were no fellow
humans to be reckoned with. I must confess that I really enjoyed
being in prison, for there I was allowed to lead a righteous life,
undisturbed and unmolested. But after a time I began to think that
this trying to be good in solitude was about as effective as the
automatic turning of a mill when there's no corn in the grinder.
Inasmuch as God had seen fit to place so many people in the world,"
I reasoned, "it must have been done with the idea that they should
be a help and a comfort to one another, and not a menace. It
occurred tome, finally, that Satan must have taken something away
from the Bible, so that Christianity should go to smash."
"But surely he never had the power to do that," said Halvor.
"Yes; he has taken out this precept: _Ye who would lead a Christian
life must seek help among your fellowmen_."
Halvor did not venture a reply, but Karin nodded approvingly. She
had listened very carefully, and had not missed a word.
"As soon as I was released from prison," Hellgum continued, "I went
to see an old friend, and asked him to help me lead a righteous
life. And, mind, when we were two about it, at once it became
easier. Soon a third party joined with us, then a fourth, and it
became easier and easier. Now there are thirty of us who live
together in a house in Chicago. All our interests are common
interests; we share and share alike. We watch over each other's
lives, and the way of righteousness lies before us, smooth and
even. We are able to deal with one another in a Christly manner,
for one brother does not abuse the kindness of another, nor trample
him down in his humility."
As Halvor remained silent, Hellgum spoke on convincingly: "You
know, of course, that he who wishes to do something big always
allies himself with others who help him. Now you couldn't run this
farm by yourself. If you wanted to start a factory, you'd have to
organize a company to coöperate with you, and if you wanted to
build a railway, just think how many helpers you'd have to take on!
"But the most difficult work in the world is to live a Christian
life; yet that you would accomplish single-handed and without the
support of others. Or maybe you don't even try to do so, since you
know beforehand that it can't be done. But we--I and those who have
joined me back there in Chicago--have found a way. Our little
community is in truth the New Jerusalem come down from Heaven. You
may know it by these signs: the gifts of the Spirit which descended
upon the early Christians, have also fallen upon us. There are some
among us who hear the Voice of God, others who prophesy, and
others, again, who heal the sick--"
"Can you heal the sick?" Halvor broke in eagerly.
"Yes," answered Hellgum. "I can heal those who have faith in me."
"It's rather hard to believe something different from what one was
taught as a child," said Halvor thoughtfully.
"Nevertheless, I feel certain, Halvor, that very soon you will give
your full support to the upbuilding of the New Jerusalem," Hellgum
declared.
Then came a moment of silence, after which Karin heard Hellgum say
good-bye.
Presently Halvor went into the house. On seeing Karin seated by the
open window, he remarked: "You must have heard all that Hellgum
said."
"Yes," she replied.
"Did you hear him say that he could heal any one who had faith in
him?"
Karin reddened a little. She had liked what Hellgum said better
than anything she had heard that summer. There was something sound
and practical about his teaching which appealed to her common
sense. Here were works and service and no mere emotionalism, which
meant nothing to her. However, she would not admit this, for she
had made up her mind to have no further dealings with preachers. So
she said to Halvor: "My father's faith is good enough for me."
***
A fortnight later Karin was again seated in the living-room. Autumn
had just set in; the wind howled round the house and a fire
crackled on the hearth. There was nobody in the room but herself
and her baby daughter, who was almost a year old and had just
learned to walk. The child was sitting on the floor at her mother's
feet, playing.
As Karin sat watching the child, the door opened, and in came a
tall, dark man, with keen eyes and large sinewy hands. Before Karin
had heard him say a word, she guessed that it was Hellgum.
After passing the time of day, the man asked after Halvor. He
learned that Karin's husband had gone to a town meeting, and was
expected home shortly. Hellgum sat down. Now and then he
glanced over at Karin, and after a little he said:
"I've been told that you are ill."
"I have not been able to walk for the past six months," Karin
replied.
"I have been thinking of coming here to pray for you," volunteered
the preacher.
Karin closed her eyes and retired within herself.
"You have perhaps heard that by the Grace of God I am able to
heal the sick?"
The woman opened her eyes and sent him a look of distrust. "I'm
much obliged to you for thinking of me," she said, "but it isn't
likely that you can help me, as I'm not the kind that changes faith
easily."
"Possibly God will help you, anyhow, since you have always tried to
live an upright life."
"I'm afraid I don't stand well enough in the sight of God to expect
help from Him in this matter."
In a little while Hellgum asked her if she had looked within to get
at the cause of this affliction. "Has Mother Karin ever asked
herself why this affliction has been visited upon her?"
Karin made no reply; again she seemed to retire within herself.
"Something tells me that God has done this that His Name might be
glorified," said Hellgum.
At that Karin grew angry and two bright red spots appeared in her
cheeks. She thought it very presumptuous in Hellgum to think this
illness had come upon her simply to give him an opportunity to
perform a miracle.
Presently the preacher got up and went over to Karin. Placing his
heavy hand on her head, he asked: "Do you want me to pray for you?"
Karin immediately felt a current of life and health shoot through
her body, but she was so offended at the man for his obtrusiveness
that she pushed away his hand and raised her own as if to strike
him. Her indignation was beyond words.
Hellgum withdrew toward the door. "One should not reject the help
which God sends, but accept it thankfully."
"That's true," Karin returned. "Whatever God sends one is obliged
to accept."
"Mark well what I say to you! This day shall salvation come unto
this house," the man proclaimed.
Karin did not answer.
"Think of me when you receive the help!" he said. The next instant
he was gone.
Karin sat bolt upright in her chair, the red spots still burning in
her cheeks. "Am I to have no peace even in my own house?" she
muttered. "It's singular how many there are nowadays who think
themselves sent of God."
Suddenly Karin's little girl got up and toddled toward the
fireplace. The bright blaze had attracted the child, who, shrieking
with delight, was making for it as fast as her tiny feet could
carry her.
Karin called to her to come back, but the child paid no heed to
her; at that moment she was trying to clamber up into the
fireplace. After tumbling down a couple of times, she finally
managed to get upon the hearth, where the fire blazed.
"God help me! God help me!" cried Karin. Then she began to shout
for help, although she knew there was no one near.
The little girl bent laughingly over the fire. Suddenly a burning
ember rolled out and fell on her little yellow frock. Instantly
Karin sprang to her feet, rushed over to the fireplace, and
snatched the child in her arms. Not until she had brushed away all
the sparks from the child's dress, and had made sure that her baby
was unharmed, did she realize what had happened to herself. She was
actually on her feet; she had been walking again, and would always
be able to walk!
Karin experienced the greatest mental shake-up she had ever felt in
her life, and at the same time the greatest sense of happiness. She
had the feeling that she was under God's special care and
protection, and that God Himself had sent a holy man to her house
to strengthen her and to heal her.
***
That autumn Hellgum often stood on the little porch of Strong
Ingmar's cottage, looking out across the landscape. The country
round about was growing more beautiful every day: the ground was
now a golden brown, and all the leafy trees had turned either a
bright red or a bright yellow. Here and there loomed stretches of
woodland that shimmered in the breeze like a billowy sea of gold.
Against the shadowy background of the fir-clad hills could be seen
splashes of yellow; they were the leaf trees that had strayed in
among the pines and spruces and taken root there.
As an humble gray hut, when ablaze, gives out light and brilliancy,
thus did this humble Swedish landscape flame into a marvel of
splendour. Everything was so wondrously golden, exactly as one
might imagine that a landscape on the surface of the sun would
look.
Hellgum was thinking, as he viewed this scene, that a time was
coming when God would let the land reflect the brightness of His
Glory, and when the seeds of Truth which had been sawn during the
summer would yield golden harvests of righteousness.
Then, to and behold, one evening Tims Halvor came over to the croft
and invited Hellgum and his wife to come with him to the Ingmar
Farm!
On arriving they found everything in holiday order; around the
house all the old dry birch leaves had been cleared away; farm
implements and carts, which at other times were scattered about the
yard, had now been put out of sight.
"They must be having a number of visitors here," thought Anna Lisa.
Just then Halvor opened the front door, and they stepped inside.
The living-room was full of people who were seated upon benches all
along the walls, solemnly expectant. Hellgum noticed that they were
the leading people of the parish. The first persons he recognized
were Ljung Björn Olofsson and his wife, Martha Ingmarsson; also
Bullet Gunner and his wife. Then he saw Krister Larsson and Israel
Tomasson with their wives, all of whom were members of the Ingmar
family. Presently he saw Hök Matts Ericsson and his son Gabriel,
the councillor's daughter Gunhild, and several persons besides.
Altogether there were about twenty people present.
When Hellgum and Anna Lisa had gone round and shaken hands with
every one, Tims Halvor said:
"We who are assembled here have been thinking over the things
Hellgum has said to us during the summer. Most of us belong to an
old family whose wish it has ever been to walk in the ways of God.
If Hellgum can help us do this, we are ready to follow him."
The next day the news spread like wildfire throughout the parish
that a new religious sect had sprung up on the Ingmar Farm, which
was supposed to embody the only correct and true principles of
Christianity.