She had come! The little girl had come! It is hard to find words to
describe so great an event.
She did not arrive till late in the autumn, when the passenger
boats that ply Lake Löven had discontinued their trips for the
season and navigation was kept up by only two small freight
steamers. But on either of these she had not cared to travel--or
perhaps she had not even known about them. She had come by wagon
from the railway station to the Ashdales.
So after all Jan of Ruffluck did not have the pleasure of welcoming
his daughter at the Borg pier, where for fifteen years he had
awaited her coming. Yes, it was all of fifteen years that she had
been away. For seventeen years she had been the light and life of
his home, and for almost as long a time had he missed her.
It happened that Jan did not even have the good fortune to be at
home to welcome Glory Goldie when she came. He had just stepped
over to Falla to chat a while with the old mistress, who had now
moved out of the big farmhouse and was living in an attic room in
one of the cottages on the estate. She was one of many lonely old
people on whom the Emperor of Portugallia peeped in occasionally,
to speak a word of cheer so as to keep them in good spirits.
It was only Katrina who stood at the door and received the little
girl on her homecoming. She had been sitting at the spinning wheel
all day and had just stopped to rest for a moment, when she heard
the rattle of a team down the road. It so seldom happened that any
one drove through the Ashdales that she stepped to the door to
listen. Then she discovered that it was not a common cart that was
coming, but a spring wagon. All at once her hands began to tremble.
They had a way of doing that now whenever she became frightened or
perturbed. Otherwise, she was well and strong despite her two and
seventy years. She was only fearful lest this trembling of the
hands should increase so that she would no longer be able to earn
the bread for herself and Jan, as she had done thus far.
By this time Katrina had practically abandoned all hope of ever
seeing the daughter again, and that day she had not even been in
her thought. But instantly she heard the rumble of wagon wheels she
knew for a certainty who was coming. She went over to the chest of
drawers to take out a fresh apron, but her hands shook so hard that
she could not insert the key into the keyhole. Now it was
impossible for her to better her attire, therefore she had to go
meet her daughter just as she was.
The little girl did not come in any golden chariot, she was not
even seated in the wagon, but came afoot. The road to the Ashdales
was as rocky then as at the time when Eric of Falla and his wife
had driven her to the parsonage, to have her christened, and now
she and the driver tramped on either side of the wagon steadying a
couple of large trunks that stood on end behind the seat, to
prevent them being jolted into the ditch. She arrived with no more
pomp and state than this, and more was perhaps not called for
either.
Katrina had just got the outer door open when the wagon stopped in
front of the gate. She should have gone and opened the gate, of
course, but she did not do so. She felt all at once such a sinking
at the heart that she was unable to take a step.
She knew it was Glory Goldie who had come, although the person who
now pushed the gate open looked like a grand lady. On her head was
a large hat trimmed with plumes and flowers and she wore a smart
coat and skirt of fine cloth; but all the same it was the little
girl of Ruffluck Croft!
Glory Goldie, hurrying into the yard in advance of the team, rushed
up to her mother with outstretched hand. But Katrina shut her eyes
and stood still. So many bitter thoughts arose in her at that
moment! She felt that she could never forgive the daughter for
being alive and coming back so sound of wind and limb, after
letting her parents wait in vain for her all these years. She
almost wished the daughter had never bothered to come home.
Katrina must have looked as if ready to drop, for Glory Goldie
quickly threw her arms around her and almost carried her into the
house.
"Mother dear, you mustn't be so frightened! Don't you know me?"
Katrina opened her eyes and regarded the daughter scrutinizingly.
She was a sensible person, was Katrina, and of course she did not
expect that one whom she had not seen in fifteen years should look
exactly as she had looked when leaving home. Nevertheless, she was
horrified at what she beheld.
The person standing before her appeared much older than her years;
for she was only two and thirty. But it was not because Glory
Goldie had turned gray at the temples and her forehead was covered
with a mass of wrinkles that Katrina was shocked, but because she
had grown ugly. She had acquired an unnatural leaden hue and there
was something heavy and gross about her mouth. The whites of her
eyes had become gray and bloodshot, and the skin under her eyes
hung in sacks.
Katrina had sunk down on a chair. She sat with her hands tightly
clasped round her knees to keep them from shaking. She was thinking
of the radiant young girl of seventeen in the red dress; for thus
had she lived in Katrina's memory up to the present moment. She
wondered whether she could ever be happy over Glory Goldie's
return.
"You should have written," she said. "You should at least have sent
us a greeting, so that we could have known you were still in the
land of the living."
"Yes, I know," said the daughter. Her voice, at least, had not
failed her; it sounded as confident and cheery as of old. "I went
wrong in the beginning--but perhaps you've heard about it?"
"Yes; that much we know," sighed Katrina.
"That was why I stopped writing," said Glory Goldie, with a little
laugh. There was something strong and sturdy about the girl then,
as formerly. She was not one of those who torture themselves with
remorse and self-condemnation. "Don't think any more of that,
mother," she added, as Katrina did not speak. "I've been doing real
well lately. For a time I kept a restaurant and now, I'll have you
know, I'm head stewardess on a steamer that runs between Malmö and
Lübeck, and this fall I have fitted up a home for myself at Malmö.
Sometimes I felt that I ought to write to you, but finding it
rather hard to start in again, I decided to put it off until I was
prepared to take you and father to live with me. Then, after I'd
got everything fixed fine for you, I thought it would be ever so
much nicer to come for you myself than to write."
"And you haven't heard anything about us?" asked Katrina. All that
Glory Goldie had told her mother should have gladdened her, but
instead it only made her feel the more depressed.
"No," replied the daughter, then added, as if in self-justification:
"I knew, of course, that you'd find help if things got too bad." At
the same time she noticed how Katrina's hands shook for all they
were being held tightly clasped. She understood then that the old
folks were worse off than she had supposed, and tried to explain
her conduct. "I didn't care to send home small sums, as others do,
but wanted to save until I had enough money to provide a good home
for you."
"We haven't needed money," said Katrina. "It would have been enough
for us if you had only written."
Glory Goldie tried to rouse her mother from her slough of despond,
as she had often done in the old days. So she said: "Mother, you
don't want to spoil this moment for me, do you? Why, I'm back with
you again! Come, now, and we'll take in my boxes and unpack them.
I've brought provisions along. We'll have a fine dinner all ready
by the time father comes home." She went out to help the driver
take the luggage down from the wagon, but Katrina did not follow
her.
Glory Goldie had not asked how her father was getting on. She
supposed, of course, that he was still working at Falla. Katrina
knew she would have to tell the daughter of the father's condition,
but kept putting it off. Anyway, the little girl had brought a
freshening breeze into the hut and the mother felt loath to put a
sudden end to her delight at being home again.
While Glory Goldie was helping unload the wagon, half a dozen
children came to the gate and looked in; they did not speak; they
only pointed at her and laughed--then ran away. But in a moment or
two they came back. This time they had with them a little faded and
shrivelled old man, who strutted along, his head thrown back and
his feet striking the ground with the measured tread of a soldier
on parade.
"What a curious looking figure!" Glory Goldie remarked to the
driver as the old man and the youngsters crowded in through the
gate. She had not the faintest suspicion as to who the man was, but
she could not help noticing a person who was so fantastically
arrayed. On his head was a green leather cap, topped with a bushy
feather; round his neck he wore a chain of gilt paper stars and
crosses that hung far down on his chest. It looked as though he had
on a gold necklace.
The youngsters, unable to hold in any longer, shouted "Empress,
Empress!" at the top of their voices. The old man strode on as if
the laughing and shrieking children were his guard of honour.
When they were almost at the door of the hut Glory Goldie gave a
wild shriek, and fled into the house.
"Who is that man?" she asked her mother in a frightened voice. "Is
it father? Has he gone mad?"
"Yes," said Katrina, the tears coming into her eyes.
"Is it because of me?"
"Our Lord let it happen out of compassion. He saw that his burden
was too heavy for him."
There was no time to explain further, for now Jan stood in the
doorway, and behind him was the gang of youngsters, who wanted to
see how this meeting, which they had so often heard him picture,
would be in reality.
The Emperor of Portugallia did not go straight up to his daughter
but stopped just inside the door and delivered his speech of
welcome.
"Welcome, welcome, O queen of the Sun! O rich and beautiful Glory
Goldie!"
The words were delivered with that stilted loftiness which
dignitaries are wont to assume on great occasions. All the same,
there were tears of joy in Jan's eyes and he had hard work to keep
his voice steady.
After the well-learned greeting had been recited the Emperor rapped
three times on the floor with his imperial stick for silence and
attention, whereupon he began to sing in a thin, squeaky voice.
Glory Goldie had drawn close to Katrina. It was as if she wished to
hide herself, to crawl out of sight behind her mother. Up to this
she had kept silence, but when Jan started to sing she cried out in
terror and tried to stop him. Then Katrina gripped her tightly by
the arm.
"Leave him alone!" she said. "He has been comforted by the hope of
singing this song to you ever since you first became lost to us."
Then Glory Goldie held her peace and let Jan continue:
"The Empress's father, for his part,
Feels so happy in his heart.
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom."
But Glory Goldie could stand no more. Rushing forward she quickly
hustled the youngsters out of the house, and banged the door on
them. Then turning round upon her father she stamped her foot at
him. Now she was angry in earnest.
"For heaven's sake, shut up!" she cried. "Do you want to make a
laughing-stock of me by calling me an empress?"
Jan looked a little hurt, but he was over it in a twinkling. She
was the Great Empress, to be sure. All that she did was right; all
that she said was to him as honey and balsam. In the supreme
happiness of the moment he had quite forgotten to look for the
crown of gold and the field marshals in golden armour. If she
wished to appear poor and humble when she came, that was her own
affair. It was joy enough for him that she had come back.