Lars Gunnarson was decidedly pleased with himself for having taken
the cap and stick away from Jan; it looked as if he had at the same
time relieved the peasant of his mania.
A fortnight after the auction at Bergvik a catechetical meeting was
held at Falla. People had gathered there from the whole district
round about Dove Lake, the Ruffluck folk being among them. There
was nothing in Jan's manner or bearing now that would lead one to
think he was not in his right mind.
All the benches and chairs in the house had been moved into the
large room on the ground floor and arranged in close rows, and
there sat every one who was to be catechized, including Jan; for
to-day he had not pushed his way up to a better seat than he was
entitled to. Lars kept his eyes on Jan. He had to admit to himself
that the man's insanity had apparently been checked. Jan behaved
now like any rational being; he was very quiet and all who greeted
him received only a stiff nod in response, which may have been due
to a desire on his part not to disturb the spirit of the meeting.
The regular meeting was preceded by a roll call, and when the
pastor called out "Jan Anderson of Ruffluck Croft," the latter
answered "here" without the slightest hesitation--as if Emperor
Johannes of Portugallia had never existed.
The clergyman sat at a table at the far end of the room, with the
big church registry in front of him. Beside him sat Lars Gunnarson,
enlightening him as to who had moved away from the district within
the year, and who had married.
Jan having answered all questions correctly and promptly, the
pastor turned to Lars and put a query to him in a low tone of voice.
"It was not as serious as it appeared," said Lars. "I took it out
of him. He works at Falla every day now, as he has always done."
Lars had not thought to lower his voice, as had the pastor. Every
one knew of whom he was speaking and many glanced anxiously at Jan,
who sat there as calm as though he had not heard a word.
Later, when the catechizing was well on, the pastor happened to ask
a trembling youth whose knowledge of the Scriptures was to be
tested, to repeat the Fourth Commandment.
It was not wholly by chance the pastor had chosen this commandment
as his text for that evening. When seated thus in a comfortable old
farmhouse, with its olden-time furniture, and much else that
plainly bespoke a state of prosperity, he always felt moved to
impress upon his hearers how well those prosper who hold together
from generation to generation, who let their elders govern as long
as they are able to do so, and who honour and cherish them
throughout the remaining years of their lives.
He had just begun to unfold the rich promises which God has made to
those who honour father and mother, when Jan of Ruffluck arose.
"There is some one standing outside the door who is afraid to come
in," said Jan.
"Go see what the matter is, Börje," said the pastor. "You're
nearest the door."
Börje rose at once, opened the door, and glanced up and down the
entry.
"There's nobody out there," he replied. "Jan must have heard
wrongly."
After this interruption the pastor proceeded to explain to his
listeners that this commandment was not so much of a command as it
was good counsel, which should be strictly followed if one wished
to succeed in life. He was himself only a youth, but this much he
had already observed: lack of respect toward parents and
disobedience were at the bottom of many of life's misfortunes.
While the pastor was speaking Jan time and again turned his head
toward the door and he motioned to Katrina, who was sitting on the
last bench and could more easily get to the door than he could, to
go open it.
Katrina kept her seat as long as she dared; but being a bit fearful
of crossing Jan these days, she finally obeyed him. When she had
got the door open, she, like Börje, saw no one in the entry. She
shook her head at Jan and went back to her seat.
The pastor had not allowed himself to be disconcerted by Katrina's
movements. To the great joy of all the young people, he had almost
ceased putting questions and was voicing some of the beautiful
thoughts that kept coming into his mind.
"Think how wisely and well things are ordered for the dear old
people whom we have with us in our homes!" he said. "Is it not a
blessing that we may be a stay and comfort to those who cared for
us when we were helpless, to make life easy for those who perhaps
have suffered hunger themselves that we might be fed? It is an
honour for a young couple to have at the fireside an old father
or mother, happy and content--"
When the pastor said that a smothered sob was heard from a corner
of the room. Lars Gunnarson, who had been sitting with head
devoutly bowed, arose at once. Crossing the floor on tiptoes, so as
not to disturb the meeting, he went over to his mother-in-law,
placed his arm around her, and led her up to the table. Seating her
in his own chair, he stationed himself behind it and looked down at
her with an air of solicitude; then he beckoned to his wife to come
and stand beside him. Every one understood of course that Lars
wanted them to think that in this home all was as the pastor had
said it should be.
The minister looked pleased as he glanced up at the old mother and
her children. The only thing that affected him a little
unpleasantly was that the old woman wept all the while. He had
never before succeeded in calling forth such deep emotion in any of
his parishioners.
"It is not difficult to keep the Fourth Commandment when we are
young and still under the rule of our parents," the pastor
continued; "but the real test comes later, when we are grown and
think ourselves quite as wise--"
Here the pastor was again interrupted. Jan had just risen and gone
to the door himself. He seemed to have better luck than had Börje
or Katrina: for he was heard to say "Go'-day" to somebody out in
the entry.
Now every one turned to see who it was that had been standing
outside all the evening, afraid to come in. They could hear Jan
urging and imploring. Evidently the person wished to be excused,
for presently Jan pulled the door to and stepped back into the
room, alone. He did not return to his seat, but threaded his way up
to the table.
"Well, Jan," said the pastor, somewhat impatient, "may we hear now
who it is that has been disturbing us the whole evening?"
"It was the old master of Falla who stood out there," Jan replied,
not in the least astonished or excited over what he had to impart.
"He wouldn't come in, but he bade me tell Lars from him to beware
the first Sunday after Midsummer Day."
At first not many understood what lay back of Jan's words. Those
who sat in the last rows had not heard distinctly, but they
inferred from the startled look on the pastor's face that Jan must
have said something dreadful. They all sprang up and began to crowd
nearer the table, asking to right and left who on earth he could
have been talking to.
"But Jan!" said the pastor in a firm tone, "do you know what you
are saying?"
"I do indeed," returned Jan with an emphatic nod. "As soon as he
had given me the message for his son-in-law he went away. 'Tell
him,' he said, 'that I wish him no ill for letting me lie in the
snow in my agony and not coming to my aid in time; but the Fourth
Commandment is a strict one. Tell him from me he'd better repent
and confess. He will have until the Sunday after Midsummer to do it
in.'"
Jan spoke so rationally and delivered his strange message with such
sincerity that both the pastor and the others firmly believed at
first that Eric of Falla had actually stood outside the door of his
old home and talked with Jan. And naturally they all turned their
eyes toward Lars Gunnarson to see what effect Jan's words had had
on him.
Lars only laughed. "I thought Jan sane," he said, "or I shouldn't
have let him come to the meeting. The pastor will have to pardon
the interruption. It is the madness breaking out again."
"Why of course!" said the pastor, relieved. For he had been on the
point of believing he had come upon something supernatural. It was
well, he thought, that this was only the fancy of a lunatic.
"You see, Pastor," Lars went on explaining, "Jan has no great love
for me, and it's plain now he hasn't the wit to conceal it. I must
confess that in a sense I'm to blame for his daughter having to go
away to earn money. It's this he holds against me."
The parson, a little surprised at Lars's eager tone, gave him a
searching glance. Lars did not meet that gaze, but looked away.
Perceiving his mistake, he tried to look the parson in the face.
Somehow he couldn't--so turned away, with an oath.
"Lars Gunnarson!" exclaimed the pastor in astonishment. "What has
come over you?"
Lars immediately pulled himself together.
"Can't I be rid of this lunatic?" he said, as though Jan were the
one he had sworn at. "Here stand the pastor and all my neighbours
regarding me as a murderer only because a madman happens to hold a
grudge against me! I tell you he wants to get back at me on account
of his daughter. How could I know that she would leave home and go
wrong simply because I wanted what was due me. Is there no one here
who will take charge of Jan," he asked, "so that the rest of us may
enjoy the service in peace?"
The pastor sat stroking his forehead. Lars's remarks troubled him;
but he could not reprimand him when he had no positive proof that
the man had committed a wrong. He looked around for the old mistress
of Falla; but she had slipped away. Then he glanced out over the
gathering, and from that quarter he got no help. He was confident
that all in the room knew whether or not Lars was guilty, yet, when
he turned to them, their faces looked quite blank. Meantime Katrina
had come forward and taken Jan by the arm, and the two of them were
then moving toward the door. Anyhow, the pastor had no desire to
question a crazy man.
"I think this will do for to-night," he said quietly. "We will
bring the meeting to a close." He made a short prayer, which was
followed by a hymn. Whereupon the people went their ways.
The pastor was the last to leave. While Lars was seeing him to the
gate he spoke quite voluntarily of that which had just taken place.
"Did you mark, Pastor, it was the Sunday after Midsummer Day I was
to be on my guard?" he said. "That just shows it was the girl Jan
had in mind. It was the Sunday after Midsummer of last year that I
was over at Jan's place to have an understanding with him about the
hut."
All these explanations only distressed the pastor the more. Of a
sudden he put his hand on Lars's shoulder and tried to read his
face.
"I'm not your judge, Lars Gunnarson," he said in warm, reassuring
tones, "but if you have something on your conscience, you can come
to me. I shall look for you every day. Only don't put it off too
long!"