It was on the Sunday before Christmas they were to bury Katrina of
Ruffluck. Usually on that particular Sabbath the church attendance
is very poor, as most people like to put off their church-going
until the great Holy Day services.
When the few mourners from the Ashdales drove into the pine grove
between the church and the town hall, they were astonished. For
such crowds of people as were assembled there that Sunday were
rarely seen even when the Dean of Bro came to Svartsjö once a year,
to preach, or at a church election.
It went without saying that it was not for the purpose of following
old Katrina to her grave that every one to a man turned out.
Something else must have brought them there. Possibly some great
personage was expected at the church, or maybe some clergyman other
than the regular pastor was going to preach, thought the Ashdales
folk, who lived in such an out-of-the-way corner that much could
happen in the parish without their ever hearing of it.
The mourners drove up to the cleared space behind the town hall,
where they stepped down from the wagons. Here, as in the grove,
they found throngs of people, but otherwise they saw nothing out of
the ordinary. Their astonishment increased, but they felt loath to
question any one as to what was going on; for persons who drive in
a funeral procession are expected to keep to themselves and not to
enter into conversation with those who have no part in the mourning.
The coffin was removed from the hearse and placed upon two black
trestles which had been set up just outside the town hall, where
the body and those who had come with it were to remain until the
bells began to toll and the pastor and the sexton were ready to go
with them to the churchyard.
It was a stormy day. Rain came down in lashing showers and beat
against the coffin. One thing was certain: it could never be said
that fine weather had brought all these people out.
But that day nobody seemed to mind the rain and wind. People stood
quietly and patiently under the open sky without seeking the
shelter of either the church or the town hall.
The six pall-bearers and others who had gathered around Katrina
noticed that there were two trestles there besides those on which
her coffin rested. Then there was to be another burial that day.
This they had not known of before. Yet no funeral procession could
be seen approaching. It was already so late that it should have
been at the church by that time.
When it was about ten minutes of ten o'clock and time to be moving
toward the churchyard, the Ashdales folk noticed that every one
withdrew in the direction of the Där Nol home, which was only two
minutes' walk from the church. They saw then what they had not
observed before, that the path leading from the town hall to the
house of Där Nol was strewn with spruce twigs and that a spruce
tree had been placed at either side of the gate. Then it was from
there a body was to be taken. They wondered why nothing had been
said about a death in a family of such prominence. Besides, there
were no sheets put up at the windows, as there should be in a house
of mourning.
Then, in a moment, the front doors opened and a funeral party
emerged. First came August Där Nol, carrying a crêped mace. Behind
him walked the six pall-bearers with the casket. And now all the
people who had been standing outside the church fell into line
behind this funeral party. Then it was in order to do honour to
_this_ person they had come.
The coffin was carried down to the town hall and placed beside the
one already there. August Där Nol arranged the trestles so that the
two coffins would rest side by side. The second coffin was not so
new and shiny as Katrina's. It looked as if it had been washed by
many rains, and had seen rough handling, for it was both scratched
and broken at the edges.
All the folk from the Ashdales suddenly caught their breath. For
then they knew it was not a Där Nol that lay in this coffin! And
they also knew that it was not for the sake of some stranger of
exalted rank that so many people had come out to church. Instantly
every one looked at Glory Goldie, to see whether she understood. It
was plain she did.
Glory Goldie, pale and heart-broken, had been standing all the
while by her mother's coffin, and as she recognized the one that
had been brought from the Där Nol home she was beside herself with
joy as one becomes when gaining something for which one has long
been striving. However, she immediately controlled her emotion.
Then, smiling wistfully, she lightly stroked the lid of Katrina's
coffin.
"Now it has turned out as well for you as ever you could have
wished," she seemed to be saying to her dead mother.
August Där Nol then stepped up to Glory Goldie and took her by the
hand. "No doubt this arrangement is satisfactory to you," he said.
"We found him only last Friday. I thought it would be easier for
you this way."
Glory Goldie stammered a few words, but her lips quavered so that
she could hardly be understood. "Thanks. It's all right. I know he
has come to mother, and not to me."
"He has come to you both, be assured of that, Glory Goldie!" said
August Där Nol.
The old mistress of Falla, who was now well on toward eighty and
bowed down by the weight of many sorrows, had come to the funeral
out of regard for Katrina, who for many years had been her faithful
servant and friend. She had brought with her the imperial cap and
stick, which had been returned to her after Jan's death. She
intended to place them in the grave with Katrina, thinking the old
woman would like to have with her some reminder of Jan.
Presently Glory Goldie turned to the old mistress of Falla and
asked her for the imperial regalia, and then she stood the long
stick up against Jan's coffin and set the cap on top of the stick.
Every one understood that she was sorry now that she had not wanted
Jan to deck himself out in these emblems of royalty and was trying
to make what slight amends she could. There is so little that one
can do for the dead!
Instantly the stick was placed there the bells in the church tower
began ringing and the pastor, the sexton, and the verger came out
from the vestry and took their places at the head of the funeral
procession.
The rain came in showers that day, but it happened, luckily, that
there was a let-up while the people formed into line--menfolk
first, then womenfolk--to follow the two old peasants to their
grave. Those who lined up looked a little surprised at their being
there, for they did not feel any grief, nor did they care
especially to honour either of the dead. It was simply this: when
the news was spread throughout the parish that Jan of Ruffluck had
come back just in time to be buried with Katrina they had all felt
that there was something singularly touching and miraculous about
this, which made them want to come and see the old couple reunited
in death. And of course no one dreamed that the same thought would
occur to so many others. They felt that this was almost too much of
a demonstration for a couple of poor and lowly cotters. People
glanced at one another rather shamefacedly; but now that they were
there, there was nothing to do but go along to the churchyard.
Then, as it occurred to them that this was just what the Emperor of
Portugallia would have liked, they smiled to themselves.
Two mace-bearers (for there was also one from the Ashdales) walked
in front of the coffins, and the whole parish marched in the
funeral procession. It could not have been better had the Emperor
himself arranged for it. And they were not altogether certain that
the whole thing was not his doing. He had become so wonderful after
his death, had the old Emperor. He must have had a purpose in
letting his daughter wait for him; a purpose in rising up out of
the deep at just the right time--as sure as fate!
When they had all come up to the wide grave and the coffins had
been lowered into it, the sexton sang "My every step leads to the
grave."
Sexton Blackie was now an old man. His singing reminded Glory
Goldie of that of another old man, to whom she had not wanted to
listen. And the recollection of this brought with it bitter
anguish; she pressed her hands to her heart and closed her eyes, so
as not to betray her sufferings.
And while she stood thus she saw before her her father as he had
been in her childhood, when he and she were such good friends and
comrades. She recognized his face as she had seen it one Sunday
morning after a blizzard, when the road was knee-deep with snow and
he had to carry her to church. She saw him again as he appeared the
Sunday she went to church in the red dress. No one had ever looked
kinder or happier than Jan did then. But after that day there had
been no more happiness for him, and she had never been quite
contented either.
She strove to hold this face before her eyes. It did her good.
There rose up in her such a strong wave of tenderness as she looked
at it! That face only wished her well. It was not something to be
feared. This was just the old kind-hearted Jan of Ruffluck. He
would never sit in judgment upon her; he would not bring misfortune
and suffering upon his only child.
Glory Goldie had found peace. She had come into a world of love now
that she could see her father as he was. She wondered how she could
ever have imagined that he hated her; he, who only wanted to
forgive! Wherever she was or wherever she went he would be there to
protect her; he had no thought or wish but that.
Again she felt the great tenderness well up in her heart like a
mighty wave-filling her whole being. Then she knew that all was
well again between her father and her; that he and she were one, as
in the old days. Now that she loved him, there was nothing to be
atoned.
Glory Goldie awoke as from a dream. While she had stood looking
into her father's kindly face the pastor had performed the burial
service. Now he was addressing a few remarks to the people; he
thanked them, one and all, for coming to this funeral. It was no
great or distinguished man that had just been laid to rest, he
said, but he was perhaps one who had borne the richest and warmest
heart in these regions.
When the pastor said this the people again glanced at one another.
And now every one looked pleased and satisfied. The parson was
right: it was because of Jan's great heart they had come to the
funeral.
Then the pastor spoke a few words to Glory Goldie. He said that she
had received greater love from her parents than had any one he knew
of, and that such love could only turn to blessing.
At this everybody looked over at Glory Goldie, and they all
marvelled at what they saw. The pastor's saying had already come
true. For there, at the grave of her parents, stood Glory Goldie
Sunnycastle, who had been named by the Sun itself, shining like one
transfigured! She was as beautiful now as on that Sunday when she
came to church in the red dress, if not more beautiful.