In the spring, soon after the snow had disappeared, young Ingmar
and Strong Ingmar returned to the village to start the sawmill.
They had been up in the forest the whole winter cutting timber and
making charcoal. And when Ingmar got back to the lowlands he fell
like a bear that had just crawled out from its lair. He could
hardly accustom himself to the glaring sunlight of an open sky, and
blinked as if the light hurt him. The roaring of the rapids and the
sound of human voices seemed almost intolerable to him, and all the
noises on the farm were a veritable torture to his ears. At the
same time he was glad; heaven knows he did not show it, either in
speech or manner, but that spring he felt as young as the fresh
shoots on the birches.
Oh, but it seemed good to him to sleep once more in a comfortable
bed, and to eat properly cooked food! And then to be at home with
Karin, who looked after his comfort as tenderly as a mother! She
had ordered new clothes for him; and she had a way of coming in
from the kitchen and handing him some dainty or other, as if he
were still a little boy. And what wonderful things had happened at
home while he was up in the forest! Ingmar had heard only a few
vague rumours about Hellgum's teachings; but now Karin and Halvor
told him of the great happiness that had come to them, and of how
they and their friends were trying to help one another to walk in
the ways of God.
"We are sure you will want to join us," said Karin.
Ingmar replied that maybe he would, but that he must think it over
first.
"All winter I longed for you to come home and share our bliss," the
sister went on, "for now we no longer live upon earth, but in 'The
New Jerusalem which is come down from Heaven!'"
Ingmar said he was glad to hear that Hellgum was still in the
neighbourhood. The summer before the preacher had often dropped in
at the mill to chat with Ingmar, and the two had become good
friends. Ingmar thought him the finest chap he had ever met. Never
had he come across any one who was so much of a man, so firm in his
convictions, and so sure of himself. Sometimes, when there had been
a great rush of work at the mill, Hellgum had pulled off his coat
and given them a lift. Ingmar had been amazed at the man's
cleverness; he had never seen any one who was so quick at his work.
Just then Hellgum happened to be away for a few days, but was
Expected back shortly.
"Once you've talked with Hellgum, I think that you will join us,"
Karin said. Ingmar thought so, too, although he felt a little
reluctant about accepting anything which had not been approved by
his father.
"But wasn't it father himself who taught us that we must always
walk in the ways of God?" argued Karin.
Everything seemed to be so bright and so promising! Ingmar had
never dreamed that it would be so delightful to get back among
people once more. There was only one thing wanting: no one ever
spoke of the schoolmaster and his wife, or of Gertrude, which was
most disquieting to him. He had not seen Gertrude for a whole year.
In the summer he had never been without news of her; for then
hardly a day went by that some one did not speak of the Storms. He
thought that perhaps this silence regarding his old friends was
accidental. When one feels timid about asking questions, and when
no one voluntarily speaks of that which one longs above everything
to hear about, it is mighty provoking, to say the least.
But if young Ingmar seemed to be happy and content, the same could
not be said of Strong Ingmar. The old man had of late become sullen
and taciturn and difficult to get on with.
"I believe you are homesick for the forest," Ingmar said to him one
afternoon as they sat on separate logs eating their sandwiches.
"God knows I am!" the old man burst forth. "I only wish I had never
come back at all!"
"Why, what's gone wrong at home?"
"How can you ask! You must know as well as I that Hellgum has been
raising the deuce around here."
Ingmar answered that, on the contrary, he had heard that Hellgum
had become a big man.
"Yes, he has grown so big and strong that he's been able to upset
the whole parish," Strong Ingmar sneered.
It seemed strange to Ingmar that the old man never evinced a
particle of affection for any of his own kin. He cared for nobody
and for nothing save the Ingmarssons and the Ingmar Farm. Therefore
Ingmar felt that he must stand up for the son-in-law.
"I think his doctrine a good one," he said.
"Oh, you do, do you?" snapped the old man; and he gave him a
withering look. "Do you think Big Ingmar would have thought so?"
Ingmar replied that his father would have upheld any one who worked
for righteousness.
"It's your belief, then, that Big Ingmar would have approved of
calling all persons who do not belong to Hellgum's band devils and
anti-Christs, and that he would have refused to associate with his
old friends because they held to their old faith?"
"I hardly think that such people as Hellgum and Halvor and Karin
would behave in that way," said Ingmar.
"Just you try to oppose them once, and you'll soon hear what they
think of you!"
Ingmar cut off a big corner of his sandwich and stuffed his mouth
full, so he would not have to talk. It irritated him to see Strong
Ingmar in such bad humour.
"Heigho, hum! It's a queer world," sighed the old man. "Here you
sit, the son of Big Ingmar, with nothing to say, while my Anna Lisa
and her husband are living on the fat of your land. The best people
in the parish bow and scrape to them, and every day they're being
fêted, here, there, and everywhere."
Ingmar kept on munching and swallowing. There was nothing he could
say. Strong Ingmar, however, went at him again.
"Yes, it's a fine doctrine that Hellgum is spreading! That's why
half the parish has gone over to him. No one has ever had such
absolute influence over the people, not even Strong Ingmar himself.
He separates children from their parents by preaching that those
who are of his fold must not live among sinners. Hellgum need only
beckon, and brother leaves brother, friend leaves friend, and the
lover deserts his betrothed. He has used his power to create strife
and dissension in every household. Of course, Big Ingmar would have
been pleased to death with that sort of thing! Doubtless he would
have backed Hellgum up in all this! I can just picture him doing
it!"
Ingmar looked up and down; he wanted to get away. He knew, to be
sure, that the old man had been drawing heavily on his imagination,
but all the same this talk depressed him.
"I don't deny that Hellgum has done wonders," he modified. "The way
in which he manages to hold his people together, and the way he can
get those who formerly would have nothing to do with each other to
live on friendly terms, is certainly remarkable. And look how he
takes from the rich to give to the poor, and how he makes each
person protect the other's welfare. I'm only sorry for those on the
outside, who are called children of the devil and are not allowed
in the game. But, of course, you don't feel that way."
Ingmar was thoroughly put out with the old man for speaking so
disparagingly of Hellgum.
"There used to be such peace and harmony in this parish!" the old
man rattled on. "But that's all past and gone. In Big Ingmar's time
we lived in such unity that we had the name of being the friendliest
people in all Dalecarlia. Now there are angels bucking against
devils, and sheep against goats."
"If we could only get the saws going," thought Ingmar, "I wouldn't
have to hear any more of this talk!"
"It won't be long either till it's all over between you and me,"
Strong Ingmar continued. "For if you join Hellgum's _angels_ it
isn't likely that they will let you associate with me."
With an oath Ingmar jumped to his feet. "If you go on talking in
this strain it may turn out just as you say," he warned. "You may
as well understand, once for all, that it is of no use your trying
to turn me against my own people, or against Hellgum, who is the
grandest man I know."
That silenced the old man. In a little while he left his work,
saying that he was going down to the village to see his friend
Corporal Felt. He had not talked with a sensible person for a long
time, he declared.
Ingmar was glad to have him go. Naturally, when a person has been
away from home for a long time he does not care to be told
unpleasant things, but wants every one around him to be bright and
cheerful.
At five the next morning Ingmar got down to the mill, but Strong
Ingmar was there ahead of him.
"To-day you can see Hellgum," the old man began. "He and Anna Lisa
got back late last night. I think they must have hurried home from
their round of feasts in order to convert you."
"So you're at it again!" scowled Ingmar. The old man's words had
been ringing in his ears all night, and he could not help wondering
who was in the right. But now he did not want to listen to any more
talk against his relatives. The old man held his peace for a time;
presently he began to chuckle.
"What are you laughing at?" Ingmar demanded, his hand on the sluice
gate ready to set the sawmill going.
"I was just thinking of the schoolmaster's Gertrude."
"What about her?"
"They said down at the village yesterday that she was the only
person who had any influence over Hellgum--"
"What's Gertrude got to do with Hellgum?"
Ingmar, meanwhile, had not opened the sluice gate, for with the
saws going he could not have heard a word. The old man eyed him
questioningly. Ingmar smiled a little. "You always manage somehow
to have your own way," he said.
"It was that silly goose, Gunhild, Councillor Clementsson's
daughter, who--"
"She's no silly goose!" Ingmar broke in.
"Oh, call it anything you like, but she happened to be at the
Ingmar Farm when this new sect was founded. As soon as she got
home, she informed her parents that she had accepted the only true
faith, and that she would there fore have to leave them and make
her home at the Ingmar Farm. Her parents asked her, of course, why
she wanted to leave home. So she'd be able to lead a righteous
life, she up and told them. But they seemed to think that could be
done just as effectively at home with them. Oh, no, that wouldn't
be possible, she declared, unless one could live with those who
were of the same faith. Her father then asked her if all of them
were going to live on the Ingmar Farm. No, only herself; the others
had true Christians in their own homes. Now Clementsson is a pretty
good sort, as you know, and both he and his wife tried to reason
with Gunhild in all kindness, but she stood firm. At last her
father became so exasperated that he just took her and locked her
up in her room, telling her she'd have to stay there till this
crazy fit had passed."
"I thought you were going to tell me about Gertrude," Ingmar
reminded him.
"I'll get round to her by and by, if you'll only have patience. I
may as well tell you at once that early the next morning, while
Gertrude and Mother Stina were sitting in the kitchen spinning,
Mrs. Clementsson called to see them. When they saw her they became
alarmed. She, who was usually so happy and light of heart, now
looked as if she'd been crying her eyes out. 'What's the matter?
What has happened? And why do you look so forlorn?' they asked.
Then Mother Clementsson answered that when one has lost one's
dearest treasure, one can't very well look cheerful. I'd like to
give them a good beating!" said the old man.
"Who?" asked Ingmar.
"Why, Hellgum and Anna Lisa. They marched themselves down to
Clementsson's in the night and kidnapped Gunhild."
A cry of amazement escaped Ingmar.
"I'm beginning to think my Anna Lisa is married to a brigand!" said
the old man. "In the middle of the night they came and tapped on
Gunhild's window, and asked her why she wasn't at the Ingmar Farm.
She told them about her parents having locked her in. "'Twas Satan
who made 'em do it,' said Hellgum. All this her father and mother
overheard."
"Did they really?"
"Yes, they slept in the next room, and the door between was partly
open; so they heard all that Hellgum said to entice their daughter."
"But they could have sent him away."
"They felt that Gunhild should decide for herself. How could they
think she would want to leave them, after all they had done for
her? They lay there expecting her to say that she would never
desert her old parents."
"Did she go?"
"Yes, Hellgum wouldn't budge till the girl went along with them.
When Clementsson and his wife realized that she couldn't resist
Hellgum, they let her go. Some folks are like that, you see. In the
morning the mother regretted it, and begged the father to drive
down to the Ingmar Farm and get their daughter. 'No indeed!' he
said, 'I'll do nothing of the sort, and what's more, I never want
to set eyes on her again unless she comes home of her own accord.'
Then Mrs. Clementsson hurried down to the school to see if Gertrude
wouldn't go and talk to Gunhild."
"Did Gertrude go?"
"Yes; she tried to reason with Gunhild, but Gunhild wouldn't
listen."
"I have not seen Gunhild at our house," said Ingmar thoughtfully.
"No, for now she is back with her parents. It seems that when
Gertrude left Gunhild she met Hellgum. 'There stands the one who is
to blame for all this,' she thought, and then she went straight up
to him, and gave him a tongue lashing. She wouldn't have minded
striking him."
"Oh, Gertrude can talk all right," said Ingmar approvingly.
"She told Hellgum that he had behaved like a heathen warrior and
not as a Christian preacher, in skulking about like that in the
night and abducting a young girl."
"What did Hellgum say to that?"
"He stood quietly listening for a while; then he said as meek as
you please that she was right, he had acted in haste. And in the
afternoon he took Gunhild back to her parents and made everything
right again."
Ingmar glanced up at the old man with a smile. "Gertrude is
splendid," he said, "and Hellgum is a fine fellow, even if he is a
little eccentric."
"So that's the way you take it, eh? I thought you would wonder why
Hellgum had given in like that to Gertrude."
Ingmar did not reply to this.
After a moment's reflection the old man began again. "There are
many in the village who want to know on which side you stand."
"I don't see as it matters which party I belong to."
"Let me remind you of one thing," said the old man: "In this parish
we are accustomed to having somebody that we can look up to as a
leader. But now that Big Ingmar is gone, and the schoolmaster has
lost his power over the people, while the pastor, as you know, was
never any good at ruling, they run after Hellgum, and they're going
to follow him just as long as you choose to remain in the
background."
Ingmar's hands dropped; he looked quite worn out. "But I don't know
who is in the right," he protested.
"The people are looking to you for deliverance from Hellgum. You
may be sure that we were spared a lot of unpleasantness by being
away from home all winter. It must have been something dreadful in
the beginning, before people had got used to this converting craze
and to being called devils and hellhounds. But the worst of all was
when the converted children started in to preach!"
"You don't mean to tell me that even the children preached," said
Ingmar doubtingly.
"Oh, yes!" the old man returned. "Hellgum told them that they
should serve the Lord instead of playing, so they started in to
convert their elders. They lay in ambush along the roadside, and
pounced upon innocent passers-by with such ravings as these:
'Aren't you going to begin the fight against the devil? Shall you
continue to live in sin?'"
Young Ingmar did not want to believe what Strong Ingmar was
recounting. "Old man Felt must have put all that into your head,"
he concluded.
"By the way, this was what I wanted to tell you," said Strong
Ingmar: "Felt is done for, too! When I think that all this mischief
has been hatched on the Ingmar Farm, I feel ashamed to look people
in the face."
"Have they wronged Felt in any way?" asked Ingmar.
"It was the work of those youngsters, drat them! One evening, when
they had nothing else to do, they took it into their heads to go
and convert Felt, for of course they had heard that he was a great
sinner."
"But in the old days all the children were as afraid of Felt as
they were of witches and trolls," Ingmar reminded.
"Oh, these youngsters were scared, too, but they must have had
their hearts set upon doing something very heroic. So one evening,
as Felt sat stirring his evening porridge, they stormed his cabin.
When they opened the door and saw the old Corporal, with his
bristling moustaches, his broken nose, and his game eye, sitting
before the fire, they were terribly frightened, and two of the
littlest ones ran away. The dozen or so that went in knelt in a
circle around the old man, and began to sing and pray."
"And didn't he drive them out?" asked Ingmar.
"If only he had!" sighed the old man. "I don't know what had come
over the Corporal. The poor wretch must have been sitting there
brooding over the loneliness and desolation of his old age. And
then I suppose it was because those who had come to him were
children. The fact that children had always been afraid of him must
have been a source of grief to the old man; and when he saw all
those baby faces, with their upturned eyes filled with shining
tears, he was powerless. The children were only waiting for him to
rush at them and strike them. Although they kept right on singing
and praying, they were ready to cut and run the instant he made a
move. Presently a pair of them noticed that Felt's face was
beginning to twitch. 'Now he'll go for us,' they thought, getting
up to flee. But the old man blinked his one good eye, and a tear
rolled down his cheek. 'Hallelujah!' the youngsters shouted, and
now, as I've already told you, it's all up with Felt. Now he does
nothing but run about to meetings, and fasts and prays, and fancies
he hears the voice of God."
"I don't see anything hurtful in all that," said Ingmar. "Felt was
killing himself with drink when the Hellgumists took him into
camp."
"Well, you've got so many friends to lose that a little thing like
this wouldn't matter to you. No doubt you would have liked it if
the children had succeeded in converting the schoolmaster."
"I can't imagine those poor little kids trying to tackle Storm!"
Ingmar was dumfounded. What Strong Ingmar had said about the parish
being turned upside down must be true after all, he thought.
"But they did, though," Strong Ingmar replied. "One evening, as
Storm was sitting in the classroom writing, a score of them came
in and began preaching to him."
"And what did Storm do?" asked Ingmar, unable to keep from laughing.
"He was so astounded at first that he couldn't say or do a thing.
But, as luck would have it, Hellgum had arrived a few moments
before and was in the kitchen talking with Gertrude."
"Was Hellgum with Gertrude?"
"Yes; Hellgum and Gertrude have been friends ever since the day
that he acted upon her advice in the little matter with Gunhild.
When Gertrude heard the racket in the schoolroom, she said: 'You're
just in time to see something new, Hellgum. It would seem that
henceforth the children are to instruct the schoolmaster.' Then
Hellgum laughed, for he comprehended that this sort of thing was
ludicrous. He promptly drove the children out, and abolished the
nuisance."
Ingmar noticed that the old man was eying him in a peculiar way;
it was as if a hunter were looking at a wounded bear and wondering
whether he should give it another shot.
"I don't know what you expect of me," said Ingmar.
"What could I expect of you, who are only a boy! Why, you haven't a
penny to your name. All you've got in the world are your two empty
hands."
"I verily believe you want me to throttle Hellgum!"
"They said down at the village that this would soon blow over if
you could only induce Hellgum to leave these parts."
"Whenever a new religious sect springs up there's always strife and
dissension," said Ingmar. "So this is nothing out of the common."
"All the same, this will be a good way for you to show people what
sort of stuff you're made of," the old man persisted.
Ingmar turned away and set the saws going. He would have liked
above everything to ask how Gertrude was getting along, and whether
she had already joined the Hellgumists; but he was too proud to
betray his fears.
At eight o'clock he went home to his breakfast. As usual, the table
was heaped with tempting dishes, and both Halvor and Karin were
especially nice to him. Seeing them so kind and gentle, he could
not believe a word of Strong Ingmar's chatter. He felt light of
heart once more, and positive that the old man had exaggerated. In
a little while his anxiety about Gertrude returned, with a force so
overwhelming that it took away his appetite, and he could not touch
his food. Suddenly he turned to Karin and said abruptly:
"Have you seen anything of the Storms lately?"
"No!" replied Karin stiffly. "I don't care to associate with such
ungodly people."
Here was an answer that set Ingmar thinking. He wondered whether he
had better speak or be silent. If he were to speak it might end in
a break with his family; at the same time he did not want them to
think that he up held them in matters that were altogether wrong.
"I have never seen any signs of ungodliness about the schoolmaster's
folks," he retorted. "And yet I have lived with them for four
years."
The very thought that had occurred to Ingmar the moment before, now
came to Karin. She, too, wondered whether she should or should not
speak. But she felt that she would have to hold to the truth, even
if it hurt Ingmar; therefore she said that if people would not
hearken to the voice of God, one could not help but think them
ungodly.
Then Halvor joined in. "The question of the children is a vital
one," he said. "They should be given the right kind of training."
"Storm has trained the entire parish, and you, too, Halvor," Ingmar
reminded him.
"But he has not taught us how to live rightly," said Karin.
"It seems to me that you have always tried to do that, Karin."
"Let me tell you how it was to live by the old teaching. It was
like trying to walk upon a round beam: one minute you were up, the
next you were down. But when I let my fellow-Christians take me by
the hand and support me, I can tread the straight and narrow path
of Righteousness without stumbling."
"I dare say," Ingmar smiled; "but that's too easy."
"Even so, it's quite difficult enough, but no longer impossible."
"But what about the Storms?"
"Those who belong with us took their children out of the school.
You see we didn't want the children to absorb any of the old
teaching."
"What did the schoolmaster say to that?"
"He said it was against the law to take children away from school,
and promptly sent a constable over to Israel Tomasson's and Krister
Larsson's to fetch their children."
"And now you are not on friendly terms with the Storms?"
"We simply keep to ourselves."
"You seem to be at odds with every one."
"We only keep away from those who would tempt us to sin."
As the three went on talking, they lowered their voices. They were
all very fearful of every word they let drop, for they felt that
the conversation had taken a painful turn.
"But I can give you greetings from Gertrude," said Karin, trying to
assume a more cheerful tone. "Hellgum had many talks with her last
winter; he says that she expects to join us this evening."
Ingmar's lips began to quiver. It was as if he had been going about
blindfolded all day, expecting to be shot, and now the shot had
come; the bullet had pierced his heart.
"So she wants to become one of you!" he murmured faintly. "Many
things can happen here while one is up in the dark forest." Ingmar
seemed to think that all this time Hellgum had been ingratiating
himself with Gertrude, and had laid snares to catch her. "But
what's to become of me?" he asked suddenly. And there was a
strange, helpless appeal in his voice.
"You must embrace our faith," said Halvor decisively. "Hellgum is
back now, and if he talks to you once, you'll soon become
converted."
"But maybe I don't care to be converted!"
Halvor and Karin stared at Ingmar in speechless amazement.
"Maybe I don't want any faith but my father's."
"Don't say anything until you have had a talk with Hellgum," begged
Karin.
"But if I don't join you I suppose you won't want me to remain
under your roof?" said Ingmar, rising. As they did not reply, it
seemed to him that all at once he had been cut off from everything.
Then he pulled himself together and looked more determined. "Now I
want to know what you're going to do about the sawmill!" he
demanded, thinking it was best to have this matter settled once for
all.
Halvor and Karin exchanged glances; both were afraid of committing
themselves.
"You know, Ingmar, that there is no one in the world who is more
dear to us than you," said Halvor.
"Yes, yes; but what about the sawmill?" Ingmar insisted.
"The principal thing is to get all your timber sawed."
At Halvor's evasive reply, Ingmar drew his own conclusions. "Maybe
Hellgum wants to run the sawmill, too?"
Karin and Halvor were perplexed at Ingmar's show of temper; since
telling him that about Gertrude, they could not seem to get
anywhere near him.
"Let Hellgum talk to you," pleaded Karin.
"Oh, I'll let him talk to me," said Ingmar, "but first I'd like to
know just where I stand."
"Surely, Ingmar, you must know that we wish you well!"
"But Hellgum is to run the sawmill?"
"We must find some suitable employment for Hellgum so that he may
remain in his own country. We have been thinking that possibly you
and he might become business partners, provided you accept the only
true faith. Hellgum is a good worker." This from Halvor.
"Since when have you been afraid to speak plainly, Halvor?" said
Ingmar. "All I want to know is whether Hellgum is to have the
sawmill."
"He is to have it if you resist God," Halvor declared.
"I'm obliged to you for telling me what a good stroke of business
it would be for me to adopt your faith."
"You know well enough it wasn't meant in that way," said Karin
reprovingly.
"I understand quite well what you mean," returned Ingmar. "I'm to
lose Gertrude and the sawmill and the old home unless I go over to
the Hellgumists." Then Ingmar turned suddenly and walked out of the
house.
Once outside, the thought came to him that he might as well end
this suspense, and find out at once where he stood with Gertrude.
So he went straight down to the school-house. When Ingmar opened
the gate a mild spring rain was falling. In the schoolmaster's
beautiful garden all things had started sprouting and budding. The
ground was turning green so rapidly that one could almost see the
grass growing. Gertrude was standing on the steps watching the
rain, and two large bird-cherry bushes, thick with newly sprung
leaves, spread their branches over her. Ingmar paused a moment,
astonished at finding everything down here so lovely and peaceful.
He was already beginning to feel less disquieted. Gertrude had not
yet seen him. He closed the gate very gently, then went toward her.
When he was quite close he stopped and gazed at her in rapt wonder.
When he had last seen her she was hardly more than a child, but in
one short year she had developed into a dignified and beautiful
young lady. She was now tall and slender and quite grown up, her
head was finely poised on a graceful neck; her skin was soft and
fair, shading into a fresh pink about the cheeks; her eyes were
deep and thoughtful, and her mouth, around which mischief and
merriment had once played, now expressed seriousness and wistful
longing.
On seeing Gertrude so changed, a sense of supreme happiness came to
Ingmar. A peaceful stillness pervaded his whole being; it was as
though he were in the presence of something great and holy. It was
all so beautiful that he wanted to go down on his knees and thank
God.
But when Gertrude saw Ingmar she suddenly stiffened, her eyebrows
contracted, and between her eyes there appeared the shadow of a
wrinkle. He saw at once that she did not like his being there, and
it cut him to the quick. "They want to take her from me," he
thought; "they have already taken her from me." The feeling of
Sabbath peace vanished, and the old fear and anxiety returned.
Waving all ceremony, he asked Gertrude if it was true that she
intended to join Hellgum and his followers. She answered that it
was. Then Ingmar asked her if she had considered that the
Hellgumists would not allow her to associate with persons who did
not think as they did. Gertrude quietly answered that she had
carefully considered this matter.
"Have you the consent of your father and mother?" asked Ingmar.
"No," she replied; "they know nothing as yet."
"But, Gertrude--"
"Hush, Ingmar! I must do this to find peace. God compels me."
"No," he cried, "not God, but--"
Gertrude suddenly turned toward him.
Then Ingmar told her that he would never join the Hellgumists. "If
you go over to them, that will part us for ever."
Gertrude looked at him as much as to say that she did not see how
this could affect her.
"Don't do it, Gertrude!" he implored.
"You mustn't think that I'm acting heedlessly, for I have given
this matter very serious thought."
"Then think it over once more before you act."
Gertrude turned from him impatiently.
"You should also think it over for Hellgum's sake," said Ingmar
with rising anger, seizing her by the arm.
She shook off his hand. "Are you out of your senses, Ingmar?" she
gasped.
"Yes," he answered; "these doings of Hellgum are driving me mad.
They must be stopped!"
"What must be stopped?"
"You'll find out before long."
Gertrude shrugged her shoulders.
"Good-bye, Gertrude!" he said in a choking voice. "And remember
what I tell you. You will never join the Hellgumists!"
"What do you intend to do, Ingmar?" asked the girl, for she was
beginning to feel uneasy.
"Good-bye, Gertrude, and think of what I have said!" Ingmar shouted
back, for by that time he was halfway down the gravel walk.
Then he went on his way. "If I were only as wise as my father!" he
mused. "But what can I do? I'm about to lose all that is dearest to
me, and I see no way of preventing it." There was one thing,
however, of which Ingmar was certain: if all this misery was to be
forced upon him, Hellgum should not escape with his skin.
He went down to Strong Ingmar's but in the hope of meeting the
preacher. When he got to the door, he caught the sound of loud and
angry voices. There seemed to be a number of visitors inside, so he
turned back at once. As he walked away he heard a man say in angry
tones: "We are three brothers who have come a long way to call you
to account, John Hellgum, for what has befallen our younger
brother. Two years ago he went over to America, where he joined
your community. The other day we received a letter telling us that
he had gone out of his mind, brooding over your teaching."
Then Ingmar hurried away. Apparently there were others besides
himself who had cause for complaint against Hellgum, and they were
all of them equally helpless.
He went down to the sawmill, which had already been set going by
Strong Ingmar. Above the buzzing noise of the saws and the roar
of the rapids he heard a shriek; but he paid no special heed to it.
He had no thought for anything save his strong hatred of Hellgum.
He was going over in his mind all that this man had robbed him of:
Gertrude and Karin, his home and his business.
Again he seemed to hear a cry. It occurred to him that possibly a
quarrel had arisen between Hellgum and the strangers. "There would
be no harm done if they were to beat the life out of him," he
thought.
Then he heard a loud shout for help. Ingmar dropped his work and
went rushing up the hill. The nearer he approached the hut the
plainer he heard Hellgum's cries of distress, and when he finally
reached the cabin it seemed as if the very earth around it shook
from the scuffling and struggling inside.
He cautiously opened the door and tiptoed in. Over against the wall
stood Hellgum defending himself with an axe. The three strangers--
all of them big, powerful men--were attacking him with clubs.
They carried no guns, so it was evident that they had come simply
to give Hellgum a sound thrashing. But because he had put up a good
fight, they were so enraged that they went at him with intent to
kill. They hardly noticed Ingmar; they regarded him as nothing but
a lank gawk of a boy who had just happened in.
For a moment Ingmar stood quietly looking on. To him it was like
a dream, wherein the thing one desires most suddenly appears
without one's knowing whence or how it came about. Now and again
Hellgum cried for help.
"Surely you can't think I'm such a fool as to help you!" Ingmar
said in his mind.
Suddenly one of the men dealt Hellgum a terrific blow on the head
that made him let go his hold on the axe and fall to the floor.
Then the others threw down their clubs, drew their knives, and cast
themselves upon him. Instantly a thought flashed across Ingmar's
mind. There was an old saying about the folk of his family, to the
effect that every one of them was destined at some time or other
during his lifetime to commit a dastardly and wrong deed. Was it
his turn now, he wondered?
All at once one of the assailants felt himself in the grip of a
pair of strong arms that lifted him off his feet and threw him
bodily out of the house; the second one had hardly time to think of
rising before the same thing happened to him; and the third, who
had managed to scramble to his feet, got a blow that sent him
headlong after the others.
After Ingmar had thrown them all out, he went and stood in the
doorway. "Don't you want to come back?" he challenged laughingly.
He would not have minded their attacking him; testing his strength
was good sport.
The three brothers seemed quite ready to renew the fight, when one
of them shouted that they had better take to their heels he had
seen a figure coming along the path behind the elms. They were
furiously disappointed at not having finished Hellgum, and, as they
turned to go, one of them ran back, pounced upon Ingmar, and
stabbed him in the neck.
"That's for meddling with our affair!" he shouted.
Ingmar sank down, and the man ran off, with a taunting laugh.
A few minutes later Karin came along and found Ingmar sitting on
the doorstep with a wound in his neck, and inside she discovered
Hellgum, who by that time had got to his feet again and was now
leaning against the wall, axe in hand and his face covered with
blood. Karin had not seen the fleeing men; she supposed that
Ingmar was the one who had attacked Hellgum and wounded him. She
was so horrified that her knees shook. "No, no!" she thought, "it
can't be possible that any one in our family is a murderer." Then
she recalled the story of her mother. "That accounts for it," she
muttered, and hurried past Ingmar over to Hellgum.
"Ingmar first!" cried Hellgum.
"The murderer should not be helped before his victim," said Karin.
"Ingmar first! Ingmar first!" Hellgum kept shouting. He was so
excited that he raised his axe against her. "He has fought the
would-be murderers and saved my life!" he said.
When Karin finally understood, and turned to help Ingmar, he was
gone. She saw him stagger across the yard, and ran after him,
calling, "Ingmar! Ingmar!"
Ingmar went on without even turning his head. But she soon caught
up with him. Placing her hand on his arm, she said:
"Stop, Ingmar, and let me bind up your wound!"
He shook off her hand and went ahead like a blind man, following
neither road nor bypath. The blood from his open wound trickled
down underneath his clothes into one of his shoes. With every step
that he made, blood was pressed out of the shoe, leaving a red
track on the ground.
Karin followed him, wringing her hands. "Stop, Ingmar, stop!"
she implored. "Where are you going? Stop, I say!"
Ingmar wandered on, straight into the wood, where there was no
one to succor him. Karin kept her eyes fixed on his shoe, which
was oozing blood. Every second the footprints were becoming
redder and redder.
"He's going into the forest to lie down and bleed to death!"
thought Karin. "God bless you, Ingmar, for helping Hellgum!" she
said gently. "It took a man's courage to do that, and a man's
strength, too!"
Ingmar tramped straight ahead, paying no heed whatever to his
sister. Then Karin ran past him and planted herself in his way. He
stepped aside without so much as glancing at her. "Go and help
Hellgum!" he muttered.
"Let me explain, Ingmar! Halvor and I were very sorry for what
we said to you this morning, and I was just on' my way to Hellgum
to let him know that, whichever way it turned out, you were to keep
the sawmill."
"Now you can give it to Hellgum," was Ingmar's answer. He walked
on, stumbling over stones and tree stumps.
Karin kept close behind, trying her best to conciliate him. "Can't
you forgive me for my mistake of a moment in thinking you had
fought with Hellgum? I could hardly have thought differently."
"You were very ready to believe your own brother a murderer,"
Ingmar retorted, without giving her a look. He still walked on.
When the grass blades he had trampled down came up again, blood
dripped from them. It was only after Karin had noticed the peculiar
way in which Ingmar had spoken Hellgum's name, that she began to
realize how he hated the preacher. At the same time she saw what a
big thing he had done.
"Every one will be singing your praises for what you did to-day,
Ingmar; it will be known far and wide," she said. "You don't want
to die and miss all the honours, do you?"
Ingmar laughed scornfully. Then he turned toward her a face that
was pale and haggard. "Why don't you go home, Karin?" he said. "I
know well enough whom you would prefer to help." His steps became
more and more uncertain, and now, where he had walked, there was a
continuous streak of blood on the ground.
Karin was about beside herself at the sight of all this blood. The
great love which she had always felt or Ingmar kindled with new
ardour. Now she was proud of her brother, and thought him a stout
branch of the good old family tree.
"Oh, Ingmar!" she cried, "you'll have to answer before God and your
fellowmen if you go on spilling your life's blood in this way. You
know, if there is anything I can do to make you want to live, you
have only to speak."
Ingmar halted, and put his arm around the stem of a tree to hold
himself up. Then, with a cynical laugh, he said: "Perhaps you'll
send Hellgum back to America?"
Karin stood looking down at the pool of blood that was forming
around Ingmar's left foot, pondering over the thing her brother
wanted her to do. Could it be that he expected her to leave the
beautiful Garden of Paradise where she had lived all winter, and go
back to the wretched world of sin she had come out of?
Ingmar turned round squarely; his face was waxen, the skin across
his temples was tightly drawn, and his nose was like that of a dead
person; but his under lip protruded with a determination that he
had never before shown, and the set look about the mouth was
sharply defined. It was not likely that he would modify his demand.
"I don't think that Hellgum and I can live in the same parish," he
said, "but it's plain enough that I must make way for him."
"No," cried Karin quickly, "if you will only let me care for you,
so that your life may be spared to us, I promise you that I will
see that Hellgum goes away. God will surely find us another
shepherd," thought Karin, "but for the time being it seems best to
let Ingmar have his way."
After she had staunched the wound, she helped Ingmar home and put
him to bed. He was not badly wounded. All he needed was to rest
quietly for a few days. He lay abed in a room upstairs, and Karin
tended him and watched over him like a baby.
The first day Ingmar was delirious, and lived over all that had
happened to him in the morning. Karin soon discovered that Hellgum
and the sawmill were not the only things that had caused him
anxiety. By evening his mind was clear and tranquil; then Karin
said to him: "There is some one who wishes to speak to you."
Ingmar replied that he felt too tired to talk to any one.
"But I think this will do you good."
Directly afterward Gertrude came into the room. She looked quite
solemn and troubled. Ingmar had been fond of Gertrude even in the
old days, when she was full of fun, and provoking. But at that time
something within him had always fought against his love. But now
Gertrude had passed through a trying year of longing and unrest,
which had wrought such a wonderful change in her that Ingmar felt
an uncontrollable longing to win her. When Gertrude came over to
the bed, Ingmar put his hand up to his eyes.
"Don't you want to see me?" she asked.
Ingmar shook his head. He was like a wilful child.
"I only want to say a few words to you," said Gertrude.
"I suppose you've come to tell me that you have joined the
Hellgumists?"
Then Gertrude knelt down beside the bed and lifted his hand from
his eyes. "There is something which you don't know, Ingmar," she
whispered.
He looked inquiringly at her, but did not speak. Gertrude blushed
and hesitated. Finally she said:
"Last year, just as you were leaving us, I had begun to care for
you in the right way."
Ingmar coloured to the roots of his hair, and a look of joy came
into his eyes; but immediately he became grave and distrustful
again.
"I have missed you so, Ingmar!" she murmured.
He smiled doubtingly, but patted her hand a little as thanks for
her wanting to be kind to him.
"And you never once came back to see me," she said reproachfully.
"It was as if I no longer existed for you."
"I didn't want to see you again until I was a well-to-do man and
could propose to you," said Ingmar, as if this were a self-evident
matter.
"But I thought you had forgotten me!" Gertrude's eyes filled up.
"You don't know what a terrible year it has been. Hellgum has been
very kind, and has tried to comfort me. He said my heart would be
at rest if I would give it wholly to God."
Ingmar now looked at her with a newborn hope in his gaze.
"I was so frightened when you came this morning," she confessed, "I
felt that I couldn't resist you, and that the old struggle would
begin anew."
Ingmar's face was beaming.
"But this evening, when I heard about your having helped the one
man whom you hated, I couldn't hold out any longer." Gertrude grew
scarlet. "I felt somehow that I had not the strength to do a thing
that would part me from you." Then she bowed her head over Ingmar's
hand, and kissed it.
And it seemed to Ingmar as if great bells were ringing in a holy
day. Within reigned Sabbath peace and stillness, while love, honey
sweet, rested upon his lips, filling his whole being with a
blissful solace.