One day in May there was an auction sale at the Ingmar Farm, and
what a perfect day it was!--quite as warm as in the summertime. The
men had all discarded their long white sheepskin coats and were
wearing their short jackets; the women already went about in the
loose-sleeved white blouses which belonged with their summer dress.
The schoolmaster's wife was getting ready to attend the auction.
Gertrude did not care to go, and Storm was too busy with his class
work. When Mother Stina was all ready to start, she opened the door
to the schoolroom, and nodded a good-bye to her husband. Storm was
then telling the children the story of the destruction of the great
city of Nineveh, and the look on his face was so stern and
threatening that the poor youngsters were almost frightened to
death.
Mother Stina, on her way to the Ingmar Farm, stopped whenever she
came to a hawthorn in bloom, or a hillock decked with white,
sweet-scented lilies of the valley.
"Where could you find anything lovelier than this," she thought,
"even if you were to go as far away as Jerusalem?"
The schoolmaster's wife, like many others, had come to love the
old parish more than ever since the Hellgumists had called it a
second Sodom and wanted to abandon it. She plucked a few of the
tiny wild flowers that grew by the roadside, and gazed at them
almost tenderly. "If we were as bad as they try to make us out,"
she mused, "it would be an easy matter for God to destroy us. He
need only let the cold continue and keep the ground covered with
snow. But when our Lord allows the spring and the flowers to
return, He must at least think us fit to live."
When Mother Stina finally reached the Ingmar Farm she halted and
glanced round timidly. "I think I'll go back," she said to herself.
"I could never standby and see this dear old home broken up." But
all the same she was far too curious to find out what was to be
done with the farm to turn back.
As soon as it became known that the farm was for sale, Ingmar put
in a bid for it. But Ingmar had only about six thousand kroner, and
Halvor had already been offered twenty-five thousand by the
management of the big Bergsana sawmills and ironworks. Ingmar
succeeded in borrowing enough money to enable him to offer an
equally large sum. The Company then raised its bid to thirty
thousand, which was more than Ingmar dared offer; for he could not
think of assuming so heavy a debt. The worst of it was, that not
only would the homestead by this means pass out of the hands of the
Ingmars for all time--for the Company was never known to part with
anything once it became its property--but moreover it was not
likely that it would allow Ingmar to run the sawmill at Langfors
Falls, in which case he would be deprived of his living. Then he
would have to give up all thought of marrying Gertrude in the fall,
as had been planned. It might even be necessary for him to go
elsewhere, to seek employment.
When Mother Stina thought of this, she did not feel very pleasantly
disposed toward Karin and Halvor. "I hope to goodness that Karin
won't come up and speak to me!" she muttered to herself. "For if
she does, I'll just have to let her know what I think of her
treatment of Ingmar. After all, it's her fault that the farm does
not already belong to him. I've been told that they'll need a lot
of money for the journey. Just the same it seems mighty strange
that Karin can have the heart to sell the old place to a
corporation that would cut down all the timber and let the fields
go to waste."
There was some one outside the corporation who wished to buy the
place; it was the rich district judge, Berger Sven Persson. Mother
Stina felt that such an arrangement would be better for Ingmar, as
Sven Persson was a generous man, who would surely let him keep the
sawmill. "Sven Persson will not forget that he was once a poor
goose boy on this farm," she reflected; "and that it was Big Ingmar
who first took him in hand and gave him a start in life."
Mother Stina did not go into the house, but remained in the yard,
as did most of the people who had come to attend the sale. She sat
down on a pile of boards, and began to glance about her very
carefully, as one is wont to do when taking a last look at some
beloved spot.
Surrounding the farmyard on three sides were ranges of outbuildings,
and in the centre was a little storehouse propped on four posts.
Nothing looked particularly old, with the exception of the porch
with the carved moulding at the entrance to the dwelling-house, and
another one, still older, with stout twisted pillars, at the
entrance of the washhouse.
Mother Stina thought of all the old Ingmarssons whose feet had trod
the yard. She seemed to see them coming home from their work in the
evening, and gathering around the hearth, tall and somewhat bent,
always afraid of intruding themselves, or of accepting more than
they felt was their due.
And she thought of the industry and honesty which had always been
practised on this farm. "It ought never to be allowed!" was her
thought as regards the auction. "The king should be told of it!"
Mother Stina took it more to heart than if it had been a question
of parting with her own home.
The sale had not yet begun, but a good many people had arrived.
Some had gone into the barns to look over the live stock; others
remained out in the yard examining the farm implements placed there
for inspection. Mother Stina on seeing a couple of peasant women
come out of a cowshed grew indignant. "Just look at Mother Inga and
Mother Stava!" she muttered. "Now they've been in and picked out a
cow apiece. Think how they'll be going around bragging that they've
got a cow of the old breed from the Ingmar Farm!"
When she saw old Crofter Nils trying to choose a plow she smiled a
little scornfully.
"Crofter Nils will think himself a real farmer when he can drive a
plough that Big Ingmar himself has used."
More and more people kept gathering round the things to be
auctioned off. The men looked wonderingly at many of the farming
tools, which were of such old-time make that it was difficult to
guess what they had been used for. A few spectators had the
temerity to laugh at the old sleighs some of which were from
ancient times and were gorgeously painted in red and green; and the
harnesses that went with them were studded with white shells, and
fringed with tassels of many colours.
Mother Stina seemed to see the old Ingmarssons driving slowly in
these old sleighs, going to a party or coming home from a church
wedding, with a bride seated beside them. "Many good people are
leaving the parish," she sighed. For to her it was as if all the
old Ingmars had gone on living at the farm up to that very day,
when their implements and their old carts and sleds were being
hawked about.
"I wonder where Ingmar is keeping himself, and how he feels? When
it seems so dreadful to me, what must it be for him?"
The weather being so fine, the auctioneer proposed that they carry
out all the things that were to go under the hammer, so as to avoid
any overcrowding of the rooms. So maids and farm hands carried out
boxes and chests, all painted in tulips and roses, Some of them had
been standing in the attic, undisturbed, for centuries. They also
brought out silver jugs and old-fashioned copper kettles, spinning-wheels
and carders, and all kinds of odd-looking weaving appliances. The
peasant women gathered around all these old treasures, picking them
up and turning them over.
Mother Stina had not intended to buy anything, when she remembered
that there was supposed to be a loom here on which could be woven
the finest damask, and went up to look for it. Just then a maid
came out with a huge Bible, which, with its thick leather bindings
and its brass clasps and mountings, was so heavy that she could
hardly carry it.
Mother Stina was as astounded as if some one had struck her in the
face; and went back to her seat. She knew, of course, that no one
nowadays reads these old Bibles, with their obsolete and antiquated
language, but just the same it seemed strange that Karin would want
to sell it.
It was perhaps the very Bible the old housewife was reading when
they came and told her that her husband, the great-grandfather of
young Ingmar, had been killed by a bear. Everything that Mother
Stina saw had something to tell her. The old silver buckles lying
on the table had been taken from the trolls in Mount Klack by an
Ingmar Ingmarsson. In the rickety chaise over yonder the Ingmar
Ingmarsson who had lived during her childhood had driven to church.
She remembered that every time he had passed by her and her mother
on their way to church, the mother had nudged her and said: "Now
you must curtsy, Stina, fox here comes Ingmar Ingmarsson."
She used to wonder why it was that her mother always wanted her to
curtsy to Ingmar Ingmarsson; she had never been so particular when
it came to the judge or the bailiff.
Afterward she was told that when her mother was a little girl and
went to church with her mother, the latter had always nudged her
and said: 'Now you must curtsy, Stina, for here comes Ingmar
Ingmarsson."
"God knows," sighed Mother Stina, "it's not only because I had
expected that Gertrude would some day have been mistress here that
I grieve, but it seems to me as if the whole parish were done for."
Just then the pastor came along, looking solemn and depressed. He
did not stop an instant, but went straight to the house. Mother
Stina surmised that he had come to plead Ingmar's cause with Karin
and Halvor.
Shortly after, the manager of the sawmills at Bergsåna arrived, and
also judge Persson. The manager, who was there in the interest of
the corporation, straightway went inside, but Sven Persson walked
about in the yard for a while and looked at the things. Presently
he stopped in front of a little old man with a big beard, who was
sitting on the same pile of boards as Mother Stina.
"I don't suppose you happen to know, Strong Ingmar, whether Ingmar
Ingmarsson has decided to buy the timber I offered him?"
"He says no," the old man answered, "but I shouldn't be surprised
if he were to change his mind soon." At the same time he winked and
jerked his thumb in the direction of Mother Stina, thus cautioning
Sven Persson not to let her hear what they were talking about.
"I should think he'd be satisfied to accept my terms," said the
Judge. "I don't make these offers everyday; but this I'm doing for
Big Ingmar's sake."
"You're right about its being a good offer," the old man agreed,
"but he says that he has already made a deal else where."
"I wonder if he has really considered what it is that he's losing?"
said Sven Persson, and walked on.
Thus far none of the Ingmarsson family had been seen about the
yard; but presently young Ingmar was discovered standing leaning
against a wall, quite motionless, and with his eyes half closed.
Now a number of people got up to go over and shake hands with him,
but when they were quite close, they bethought themselves and went
back to their seats.
Ingmar was deathly pale, and every one who looked at him could see
that he was suffering keenly; therefore, no one ventured to speak
to him. He stood so quietly that many had not even noticed that he
was there. But those who had could think of nothing else. Here
there was none of the merriment which usually prevails at auctions.
With Ingmar standing there, hugging the wall of the old home he was
about to lose, they felt no inclination to laugh or to joke.
Then came a moment for the opening of the auction. The auctioneer
mounted a chair, and began to offer the first lot--an old plow.
Ingmar never moved. He was more like a statue than a human being.
"Good heavens! why can't he go away?" said the people. "He doesn't
have to stay here and witness this miserable business. But the
Ingmarssons never behave like other folks."
The hammer then fell for the first sale. Ingmar started as if it
had caught him; but in a moment he again became motionless. But at
every ring of the hammer a shudder went through him.
Two peasant women passed just in front of Mother Stina; they were
talking about Ingmar.
"Think! If he had only proposed to some rich farmer's daughter he
might have had enough money to buy the farm; but of course he's
going to marry the schoolmaster's Gertrude," said one.
"They say that a rich and influential man has offered to give him
the Ingmar Farm as a wedding present, if he will marry his
daughter," said the other. "You see, they don't mind his being
poor, because he belongs to such a good family."
"Anyway, there's some advantage in being the son of Big Ingmar."
"It would indeed have been a good thing if Gertrude had had a
little, so that she could have given him a lift," thought Mother
Stina.
When all the farming implements had been sold, the auctioneer moved
over to another part of the yard, where the household linens were
piled. He then bean to offer for sale home-woven fabrics--table
cloths, bed linen, and hangings, holding them up so that the
embroidered tulips and the various fancy weaves could be seen all
over the yard.
Ingmar must have noticed the light flutter of the linen pieces as
they were being held aloft, for he involuntarily glanced up. For a
moment his tired eyes looked out upon the desecration, then he
turned away.
"I've never seen the like of that," said a young peasant girl. "The
poor boy looks as if he were dying. If he'd only go away instead of
standing here tormenting himself!"
Mother Stina suddenly jumped to her feet as if to cry out that this
thing must be stopped; then she sat down again. "I mustn't forget
that I'm only a poor old woman," she sighed.
All at once there was a dead silence, which made Mother Stina look
up. The silence was due to the sudden appearance of Karin, who had
just come out from the house. Now it was quite plain what they all
thought of Karin and her dealings, for as she went across the yard
every one drew back. No one put out a hand to greet her, no one
spoke to her; they simply stared disapprovingly.
Karin looked tired and worn, and stooped more than usual. A bright
red spot appeared on both cheeks, and she looked as miserable as in
the days when she had had her struggles with Elof. She had come out
to find Mother Stina and ask her to go inside. "I didn't know till
just now that you were here, Mother Storm," she said.
Mother Stina at first declined, but was finally persuaded.
"We want all the old antagonisms to be forgotten now that we are
going away," said Karin.
While they were going toward the house Mother Stina ventured: "This
must be a trying day for you, Karin."
Karin's only response was a sigh.
"I don't see how you can have the heart to sell all these old
things, Karin."
"It is what one loves most that one must first and foremost
sacrifice to the Lord," said Karin.
"Folks think it strange--" Mother Stina began, but Karin cut her
short.
"The Lord, too, would think it strange if we held back anything we
had offered in His Name."
Mother Stina bit her lip. She could not bring herself to say
anything further. All the reproaches which she had meant to heap
upon Karin stuck in her throat. There was an air of lofty dignity
about Karin that disarmed people; therefore, no one had the courage
to upbraid her. When they were on the broad step in front of the
porch, Mother Stina tapped Karin on the shoulder.
"Have you noticed who is standing over there?" she asked, and
pointed to Ingmar.
Karin winced a little, but was careful not to look over at her
brother. "The Lord will find a way out for him," she murmured. "The
Lord will surely find away out."
To all appearances the living-room was not much changed by reason
of the auction, for in there the seats and cupboards and bedsteads
were stationary. But shining copper utensils no longer adorned the
walls, the built-in bedsteads looked bare, stripped of their
coverings and hangings, and the doors of the blue-painted
cupboards, which in the old days were always left standing half
open, to let visitors see the great silver jugs and beakers that
filled its shelves, were now closed; which meant that there was
nothing inside worth showing. The only wall decoration the room
boasted was the Jerusalem canvas, which on that day had a fresh
wreath around it.
The large room was thronged with relatives and coreligionists of
Halvor and Karin. One after another, they were conducted with much
ceremony to a large, well-spread table, for refreshments.
The door to the inside room was closed. In there negotiations for
the sale of the farm itself were pending. The talking was loud and
heated, especially on the part of the pastor.
In the living-room, on the other hand, the people were very quiet,
and when any one spoke, it was in hushed tones; for every one's
thoughts were in the little room where the fate of the farm was
being settled.
Mother Stina turned to Gabriel, saying: "I suppose there's no
chance of Ingmar getting the farm?"
"The bidding has gone far beyond his figure by now," Gabriel
replied. "The innkeeper from Karmsund is said to have offered
thirty-two thousand, and the Company's bid has been raised to
thirty-five. The pastor is now trying to persuade Karin and Halvor
to let it go to the innkeeper rather than to the Company."
"But what about Berger Sven Persson?"
"It seems that he has not made any bid to-day."
The pastor was still talking. He was evidently pleading with some
one. They could not hear what he said, but they knew that no
decision had been reached or the pastor would not have gone on
talking.
Then came a moment of silence, after which the innkeeper was heard
to say, not exactly loudly, but with a clearness that made every
word carry: "I bid thirty-six thousand, not that I think the place
is worth that much, but I can't bear the thought of its becoming a
corporation property."
Immediately after there was a noise as of some one striking a table
with his fist, and the manager of the Company was heard to shout:
"I bid forty thousand, and more than that Karin and Halvor are not
likely to get."
Mother Stina, who had turned as white as a sheet, got up and went
back to the yard. It was dreary enough out there, but not as
insufferable as sitting in the close room listening to the haggling.
The sale of linen was over; the auctioneer had again changed his
place, and was about to cry out the old family silverware--the
heavy silver jugs inlaid with gold coin, and the beakers bearing
inscriptions from the seventeenth century. When he held up the
first jug, Ingmar started forward as if to stop the sale, but
restrained himself at once, and went back to his place.
A few minutes later an old peasant came bearing the silver jug,
which he respectfully deposited at Ingmar's feet. "You must keep
this as a souvenir of all that by right should have been yours," he
said.
Again a tremor passed through Ingmar's body; his lips quivered,
and he tried to say something.
"You needn't say anything now," said the old peasant. "That will
keep till another time." He withdrew a few paces, then suddenly
turned back. "I hear that folks are saying you could take over the
farm if you cared to. It would be the greatest service you could
render this parish."
There were a number of old servants living at the farm, who had
been there from early youth. Now that old age had overtaken them
they still stayed on, and over these hung a pall of uncertainty
such as had not touched the others. They feared that under a new
master they would be turned out of their old home to become
beggars. Or, whatever happened, they knew in their hearts that no
stranger would care for them as their old master and mistress had
done. These poor old pensioners wandered restlessly about the
farmyard all day long. Seeing them shrink past, frail and helpless,
with a look of hopeless appeal in their weak, watery eyes, every
one felt sorry for them.
Finally one old man, who was nearly a hundred, hobbled up to
Ingmar, and sat down on the ground quite close to him. It seemed to
be the only place where he could be at ease, for there he remained
quietly, resting his shaky old hands on the crook of his cane. And
as soon as old Lisa and Cowhouse Martha saw where Pickaxe Bengt had
taken refuge, they, too, came tottering up, and sat down at Ingmar's
feet. They did not speak to him, but somehow they must have had a
vague idea that he would be able to protect them--he who was now
Ingmar Ingmarsson.
Ingmar no longer kept his eyes closed. He stood looking down at
them, as if he were counting up all the years and all the trials
through which they had lived, serving his people; and it seemed to
him that his first duty was to see that they be allowed to live out
their days in their old home. He glanced out over the yard, caught
the eye of Strong Ingmar, and nodded to him, significantly.
Whereupon Strong Ingmar, without a word, went straight to the
house. He passed through the living-room to the inner room, and
stationed himself by the door, where he waited for an opportunity
to deliver his message.
The pastor was standing in the middle of the room talking to Karin
and Halvor, who were sitting as stiff and motionless as a pair of
mummies. The manager from Bergsåna was at the table looking
confident, for he knew that he was in a position to outbid all the
others. The innkeeper from Karmsund was standing at the window, in
such a fever of agitation that great beads of sweat came out on his
forehead, and his hands shook. Berger Sven Persson sat on the sofa
at the far end of the room, twiddling his thumbs, his hands clasped
over his stomach, his big commanding face impassive.
The pastor was done talking, and Halvor glanced over at Karin for
advice; but she sat as if in a trance, staring blankly at the floor.
Then Halvor turned to the pastor, and said: "Karin and I have got
to consider that we are going to a strange land, and that we and
the brethren must live on the money we can get for the farm. We've
been told that the fare alone to Jerusalem will cost us fifteen
thousand kroner. And then, afterward, we must get a house and keep
ourselves in food and clothes. So we can hardly afford to give
anything away."
"It's unreasonable of you people to expect Karin and Halvor to sell
the farm for a mere song, just because you don't want the Company
to have it!" said the manager. "It seems to me that it would be
well to accept my offer at once, if for no other reason than to put
an end to all these useless arguments."
"Yes," Karin spoke up, "we'd better take the highest bid."
But the parson was not so easily beaten! When it came to a question
of handling a worldly matter he always knew just what to say. Now
he was the man, and not the preacher.
"I'm sure that Karin and Halvor care enough about this old farm to
want to sell to some person who would keep up the property, even if
they have to take a couple of thousand kroner less," he said.
Then he proceeded to tell--for Karin's special benefit--of various
farms that had gone to waste after falling into the hands of
corporations.
Once or twice Karin glanced up at the pastor. He wondered whether
he had finally succeeded in making some impression upon her. "There
must surely be a little of the pride of the old peasant matron
still left in her," he thought as he went on telling of tumbledown
farmhouses and underfed cattle.
He finally ended with these words: "I know perfectly well that if
the corporation is fully determined to buy the Ingmar Farm, it can
go on bidding against the farmers until they are forced to give up;
but if Karin and Halvor want to prevent this old place from
becoming a ruined corporation property, they will have to settle on
a price, so that the farmers may know what to be guided by."
When the pastor made that proposition, Halvor, uneasy, glanced over
at Karin, who slowly raised her eyelids.
"Certainly Halvor and I would rather sell the place to some one of
our own kind. Then we could go away from here knowing that
everything would continue in the old way."
"If some person outside the Company wants to give forty thousand
for the property, we will be satisfied to accept that sum for it,"
said Halvor, knowing at last what his wife's wishes were.
When that was said, Strong Ingmar walked over to Sven Persson and
whispered to him.
Judge Persson immediately arose and went up to Halvor. "Since you
say you are willing to take forty thousand kroner for the farm,
I'll buy it at that figure," he said.
Halvor's face began to twitch, and a lump seemed to rise in his
throat; he had to swallow before he could speak. "Thank you,
judge," he finally stammered. "I'm glad that I can leave the farm
in such good hands!"
Judge Persson then shook hands with Karin, who was so moved that
she could hardly keep back the tears.
"You may be sure, Karin, that everything here will be as of old,"
he said.
"Are you going to live at the farm yourself?" Karin inquired.
"No," said he, then added with great solemnity: "My youngest
daughter is to be married in the summer, and she and her husband
are to have the farm as a gift from me." He then turned to the
pastor and thanked him.
"Well, Parson, you'll have it your own way," he said. "I never
dreamed in the days when I was a poor goose boy on this place that
some time it would be in my power to arrange for an Ingmar
Ingmarsson to come back to the Ingmar Farm!"
The pastor and the other men all stood staring at the judge in
dumb amazement, not grasping at first what was meant.
Karin left the room at once. While passing through the living-room
to the yard, she drew herself up, retied her headkerchief, and
smoothed out her apron. Then, with an air of solemn dignity, she
went straight up to Ingmar and grasped his hand.
"Let me congratulate you, Ingmar," she said, her voice shaking with
joy. "You and I have been strongly opposed to each other of late in
matters of religion; but since God does not grant me the solace of
having you with us, I thank Him for allowing you to become master
of the old farm."
Ingmar did not speak. His hand lay limp in Karin's, and when she
let it drop, he stood there looking just as unhappy as he had
looked all day.
The men who had been inside at the final settlement came out now,
and shook hands with Ingmar, offering their congratulations. "Good
luck to you, Ingmar Ingmarsson of the Ingmar Farm!" they said.
At that a glimmer of happiness crossed Ingmar's face, and he
murmured softly to himself: "Ingmar Ingmarsson of the Ingmar Farm."
He was like a child that has just received a gift it has long been
wishing for. But the next moment his expression changed to one of
intense revolt and repugnance, as if he would have thrust the
coveted prize from him.
In a flash the news had spread .all over the farm. People talked
loudly and questioned eagerly; some were so pleased they wept for
joy. No one listened now to the cries of the auctioneer, but
everybody crowded around Ingmar to wish him happiness--peasants and
gentlefolk, friends and strangers, alike.
Ingmar, standing there, surrounded by all these happy people,
suddenly looked up. He then saw Mother Stina, standing a little
apart from the others, her eyes fixed on him. She was very pale,
and looked old and poor. As he met her gaze, she turned and walked
away.
Ingmar hastily left the others and hurried after her. Then bending
down to her, every muscle of his face aquiver with grief, he said
in a husky voice:
"Go home to Gertrude, Mother Stina, and tell her that I have
betrayed her, that I've sold myself for the farm. Tell her never to
think more of such a miserable wretch as I."