SPRING.

Great was Stiorna's consternation at Hund's non-appearance the next day,

seeing as she did, with her own eyes, that the boat was safe in its

proper place. She had provided salt for his cod, and a welcome for

himself; and she watched in vain for either. She saw, too, that no one

wished him back. He was rarely spoken of; and then it was with dislike

or fear: and when she wept over the idea of his being drowned, or

carried off by hostile spirits, the only comfort offered her was that

she need not fear his being dead, or that he could not come back if he

chose. She was, indeed, obliged to suppose, at last, that it was his

choice to keep away; for amidst the flying rumours that amused the

inhabitants of the district for the rest of the winter,--rumours of the

movements of the pirate-vessel, and of the pranks of the spirits of the

region, there were some such clear notices of the appearance of Hund,--

so many eyes had seen him in one place or another, by land and water, by

day and night, that Stiorna could not doubt of his being alive, and free

to come home or stay away as he pleased. She could not conceal from

herself that he had probably joined the pirates; and heartily as these

pirates were feared throughout the Nordland coasts, they were not more

heartily hated by any than by the jealous Stiorna.

Her salt was wanted as much as if Hund had brought home a boatful of

cod; and she might have given her welcome to the hunting-party.

Erlingsen and Rolf came home sooner than might reasonably have been

expected, and well laden with bear's flesh. The whole family of bears

had been found and shot. The flesh of the cubs had been divided among

the hunters; and Erlingsen was complimented with the feet of the old

bear, as it was he who had roused the neighbours, and led the hunt.

Busy was every farm-house (and none so busy as Erlingsen's) in salting

some of the meat, freezing some, and cooking a part for a feast on the

occasion.

Erlingsen kept a keen and constant look-out upon the fiord, in the midst

of all the occupations and gaieties of the rest of the winter. His

wife's account of the adventures of the day of his absence made him

anxious; and he never went a mile out of sight of home, so vivid in his

imagination was the vision of his house burning, and his family at the

mercy of pirates. Nothing happened, however, to confirm his fears. The

enemy were never heard of in the fiord; and the cod-fishers who came up,

before the softening of the snow, to sell some of their produce in the

interior of the country, gave such accounts as seemed to show that the

fishing-grounds were the object of the foreign thieves; for foreign they

were declared to be: some said Russian; and others, a mixture from

hostile nations. This last information gave more impulse to the love of

country for which the Norwegians are remarkable, than all that had been

reported from the seat of war. The Nordlanders always drank success to

their country's arms, in the first glass of corn-brandy at dinner. They

paid their taxes cheerfully; and any newspaper that the clergyman put in

circulation was read till it fell to pieces; but, the neighbourhood of

foreign pirates proved a more powerful stimulant still. The standing

toast, _Gamle Norge_ (Old Norway), was drunk with such enthusiasm, that

the little children shouted and defied the enemy; and the baby in its

mother's lap clapped its hands when every voice joined in the national

song, _For Norge_. Hitherto the war had gone forward upon the soil of

another kingdom; it seemed now as if a sprinkling of it--a little of its

excitement and danger--was brought to their own doors; and vehement was

the spirit that it roused; though some thefts of cod, brandy, and a

little money, were all that had really happened yet.

The interval of security gave Rolf a good opportunity to ridicule and

complain of Erica's fears. He laughed at the danger of an attack from

Hund and his comrades, as that danger was averted. He laughed at the

west wind and fog sent by Nipen's wrath, as Erica had reached home in

spite of it. He contended that, so far from Nipen being offended, there

was either no Nipen, or it was not angry, or it was powerless; for

everything had gone well; and he always ended with pointing to the

_deer_--a good thing led to the very door--and to the result of the

bear-hunt--a great event always in a Nordlander's life, and, in this

instance, one of most fortunate issue. There was no saying how many of

the young of the farm-yard would live and flourish, this summer, on

account of the timely destruction of this family of bears. So Rolf

worked away, with a cheerful heart, as the days grew longer,--now

mending the boat,--now fishing,--now ploughing, and then rolling logs

into the melting-streams, to be carried down into the river, or into the

fiord, when the rush of waters should come from the heights of

Sulitelma.

Hard as Rolf worked, he did not toil like Oddo. Between them, they had

to supply Hund's place,--to do his work. Nobody desired to see Hund

back again; and Erlingsen would willingly have taken another in his

stead, to make his return impossible; but there was no one to be had.

It was useless to inquire till the fishing season should be over: and

when that was over, the hay and harvest season would follow so quickly,

that it was scarcely likely that any youth would offer himself till the

first frosts set in. It was Oddo's desire that the place should remain

vacant till he could show that he, young as he was, was worth as much as

Hund. If any one was hired, he wished that it might be a herd-boy,

under him; and strenuously did he toil, this spring, to show that he was

now beyond a mere herd-boy's place. It was he who first fattened, and

then killed and skinned the reindeer,--a more than ordinary feat, as it

was full two months past the regular season. It was he who watched the

making of the first eider-duck's nest, and brought home the first down.

All the month of April, he never failed in the double work of the

farm-yard and islet. He tended the cattle in the morning, and turned

out the goats, when the first patches of green appeared from beneath the

snow: and then he was off to the islet, or to some one of the breeding

stations among the rocks, punctually stripping the nests of the down, as

the poor ducks renewed the supply from their breasts; and as carefully

staying his hand, when he saw, by the yellow tinge of the down, that the

duck had no more to give, and the drake had now supplied what was

necessary for hatching the eggs. Then he watched for the eggs; and

never had Madame Erlingsen had such a quantity brought home; though Oddo

assured her that he had left enough in the nests for every duck to have

her brood. Then he was ready to bring home the goats again, long before

sunset,--for, by this time, the sun set late,--and to take his turn at

mending any fence that might have been injured by the spring-floods; and

then he never forgot to wash and dress himself, and go in for his

grandmother's blessing; and after all, he was not too tired to sit up as

late as if he were a man,--even till past nine sometimes,--spending the

last hour of the evening in working at the bell-collars which Hund had

left half done, and which must be finished before the cattle went to the

mountain: or, if the young ladies were disposed to dance, he was never

too tired to play the clarionet, though it now and then happened that

the tune went rather oddly; and when Orga and Frolich looked at him, to

see what he was about, his eyes were shut, and his fingers looked as if

they were moving of their own accord. If this happened, the young

ladies would finish their waltz at once, and thank him, and his mistress

would wish him good night; and when he was gone, his master would tell

old Peder that that grandson of his was a promising lad, and very

diligent; and Peder would make a low bow, and say it was greatly owing

to Rolf's good example; and then Erica would blush, and be kinder than

ever to Oddo the next day.

So came on and passed away the spring of this year at Erlingsen's farm.

It soon passed; for spring in Nordland lasts only a month. In that

short time had the snow first become soft, and then dingy, and then

vanished, except on the heights, and in places where it had drifted.

The streams had broken their long pause of silence, and now leaped and

rushed along, till every rock overhanging both sides of the fiord was

musical with falling waters, and glittering with silver threads,--for

the cataracts looked no more than this in so vast a scene. Every mill

was going, after the long idleness of winter; and about the bridges

which spanned the falls were little groups of the peasants gathered,

mending such as had burst with the floods, or strengthening such as did

not seem secure enough for the passage of the herds to the mountain.

Busy as the maidens were with the cows that were calving, and with the

care of the young kids, they found leisure to pry into the promise of

the spring. In certain warm nooks, where the sunshine was reflected

from the surrounding rocks, they daily watched for what else might

appear, when once the grass, of brilliant green, had shown itself from

beneath the snow. There they found the strawberry and the wild

raspberry promising to carpet the ground with their white blossoms;

while in one corner the lily of the valley began to push up its pairs of

leaves; and from the crevices of the rock, the barberry and the dwarf

birch grew, every twig showing swelling buds, or an early sprout.

While these cheerful pursuits went on out of doors during the one busy

month of spring, a slight shade of sadness was thrown over the household

within by the decline of old Ulla. It was hardly sadness; it was little

more than gravity; for Ulla herself was glad to go; Peder knew that he

should soon follow; and every one else was reconciled to one who had

suffered so long going to her rest.

"The winter and I are going together, my dear," said she one day, when

Erica placed on her pillow a green shoot of birch which she had taken

from out of the very mouth of a goat. "The hoary winter and hoary I

have lived out our time, and we are departing together. I shall make

way for you young people, and give you your turn, as he is giving way to

spring; and let nobody pretend to be sorry for it. Who pretends to be

sorry when winter is gone?"

"But winter will come again, so soon and so certainly, Ulla," said

Erica, mournfully: "and when it is come again, we shall still miss you."

"Well, my dear, I will say nothing against that. It is good for the

living to miss the dead, as long as they do not wish them back. As for

me, Erica, I feel as if I could not but miss you, go where I may."

"O, do not say that, Ulla."

"Why not say it if I feel it? Who could be displeased with me for

grasping still at the hand that has smoothed my bed so long, when I am

going to some place that will be very good, no doubt, but where

everything must be strange at first? He who gave you to me, to be my

nurse, will not think the worse of me for missing you, wherever I may

be."

"There will be little Henrica," observed Erica. "Ah yes! there is

nothing I think of more than that. That dear child died on my shoulder.

Fain would her mother have had her in her arms at the last; but she was

in such extremity that to move her would have been to end all at once;

and so she died away, with her head on my shoulder. I thought then it

was a sign that I should be the first to meet her again. But I shall

take care and not stand in the way of her mother's rights."

Here Ulla grew so earnest in imagining her meeting with Henrica, still

fancying her the dependent little creature she had been on earth, that

she was impatient to be gone. Erica's idea was that this child might

now have become so wise and so mighty in the wisdom of a better world,

as to be no such plaything as Ulla supposed; but she said nothing to

spoil the old woman's pleasure.

When Peder came in, to sit beside his old companion's bed, and sing her

to sleep, she told him that she hoped to be by when he opened his now

dark eyes upon the sweet light of a heavenly day; and, if she might, she

would meantime make up his dreams for him, and make him believe that he

saw the most glorious sights of old Norway,--more glorious than are to

be seen in any other part of this lower world. There should be no end

to the gleaming lakes, and dim forests, and bright green valleys, and

silvery waterfalls that he should see in his dreams, if she might have

the making of them. There was no end to the delightful things Ulla

looked forward to, and the kind things she hoped to be able to do for

those she left behind, when once she should have quitted her present

helpless state: and she thought so much of these things, that when M.

Kollsen arrived, he found that, instead of her needing to be reconciled

to death, she was impatient to be gone. The first thing he heard her

say, when all was so dim before her dying eyes, and so confused to her

failing ears, that she did not know the pastor had arrived, was that she

was less uneasy now about Nipen's displeasure against the young people.

Perhaps she might be able to explain and prevent mischief: and if not,

the young people's marriage would soon be taking place now, and then

they might show such attention to Nipen as would make the spirit forgive

and forget.

"Hush, now, dear Ulla!" said Erica. "Here is the pastor."

"Do not say `Hush'!" said M. Kollsen, sternly. "Whatever is said of

this kind I ought to hear, that I may meet the delusion. I must have

conversation with this poor woman, to prevent her very last breath being

poisoned with superstition. You are a member of the Lutheran Church,

Ulla?"

With humble pleasure, Ulla told of the satisfaction which the Bishop of

Tronyem, of seventy years ago, had expressed at her confirmation. It

was this which obtained her a good place, and Peder's regard, and all

the good that had happened in her long life since. Yes: she was indeed

a member of the Lutheran Church, she thanked God.

"And in what part of the Scriptures of our church do you find mention

of--of--(I hate the very names of these pretended spirits). Where in

the Scriptures are you bidden or permitted to believe in spirits and

demons of the wood and the mountain?"

Ulla declared that her learning in the Scriptures was but small. She

knew only what she had been taught, and a little that she had picked up:

but she remembered that the former Bishop of Tronyem himself had hung up

an axe in the forest, on Midsummer Eve, for the wood-demon's use, if it

pleased.

Peder observed that we all believe so many things that are not found

mentioned in the Scriptures, that perhaps it would be wisest and

kindest, by a dying bed, where moments were precious, to speak of those

high things which the Scriptures discourse of, and which all Christians

believe. These were the subjects for Ulla now: the others might be

reasoned of when she was in her grave.

The pastor was not quite satisfied with this way of attending the dying;

but there was something in the aged man's voice and manner quite

irresistible, as he sat calmly awaiting the departure of the last

companion of his own generation. M. Kollsen took out his Bible, and

read what Ulla gladly heard, till her husband knew by the slackened

clasp of her hand that she heard no longer. She had become insensible,

and before sunset had departed.

Rolf had continued his kind offices to the old couple with the utmost

respect and propriety, to the end refusing to go out of call during the

last few days of Ulla's decline: but he had observed, with some anxiety,

that there was certainly a shoal of herrings in the fiord, and that it

was high time he was making use of the sunny days for his fishing. In

order to go about this duty without any delay, when again at liberty, he

had brought the skiff up to the beach for repair, and had it nearly

ready for use by the day of the funeral. The family boat was too large

for his occasions, now that Hund was not here to take an oar: and he

expected to do great things alone in the little manageable skiff.

When he had assisted Peder to lay Ulla's head in the grave, and guided

him back to the house, Rolf drew Erica's arm within his own, and led her

away, as if for a walk. No one interfered with them; for the family

knew that their hearts must be very full, and that they must have much

to say to each other, now that the event had happened which was to cause

their marriage very soon. They would now wait no longer than to pay

proper respect to Ulla's memory, and to improve the house and its

furniture a little, so as to make it fit for the bride.

Rolf would have led Erica to the beach; but she begged to go first to

see the grave again, while they knew that no one was there. The grave

was dug close by the little mound beneath which Henrica lay. Henrica's

was railed round, with a paling which had been fresh painted--a task

which Erlingsen performed with his own hands every spring. The

forget-me-not, which the Nordlanders plant upon the graves of those they

love, overran the hillock, and the white blossoms of the wild strawberry

peeped out from under the thick grass; so that this grave looked a

perfect contrast to that of Ulla, newly-made and bare. The lovers

looked at this last with dissatisfaction.

"It shall be completely railed in before to-morrow night," said Rolf.

"But cannot we dress it a little now? I could transplant some

flower-roots presently, and some forget-me-not from Henrica's hillock,

if we had sods for the rest. Never mind spoiling any other nook. The

grass will soon grow again."

Rolf's spade was busy presently; and Erica planted and watered till the

new grave, if it did not compare with the child's, showed tokens of

care, and promise of beauty.

"Now," said Rolf, when they had done, and put away their tools, and sat

down on the pine log from which the pales were to be made, so that their

lengthening shadows fell across the new grave,--"now, Erica, you know

what she who lies there would like us to be settling. She herself said

her burial day would soon be over; and then would come our wedding-day."

"When everything is ready," replied Erica, "we will fix; but not now.

There is much to be done;--there are many uncertainties."

"Uncertainties! What uncertainties? I know of none--except indeed as

to--"

Rolf stopped to peel off, and pull to pieces, some of the bark of the

pine trunk on which he was sitting. Erica looked wistfully at him; he

saw it, and went on.

"It is often an uncertainty to me, Erica, after all that has happened,

whether you mean to marry me at all. There are so many doubts, and so

many considerations, and so many fears!--I often think we shall never be

any nearer than we are."

"That is your sort of doubt and fear," said Erica, smiling. "Who is

there that entertains a worse?"

"I do not want any rallying or joking, Erica. I am quite serious."

"Seriously then--are we not nearer than we were a year ago? We are

betrothed; and I have shown you that I do believe we are to be married,

if--"

"Ay, there. `If' again."

"If it shall please the Powers above us not to separate us, by death or

otherwise."

"Death! at our age! And separation! when we have lived on the same farm

for years! What have we to do with death and separation?"

Erica pointed to the child's grave, in rebuke of his rash words. She

then quietly observed that they had enemies,--one deadly enemy not very

far off, if nothing were to be said of any but human foes. Rolf

declared that he had rather have Hund for a declared enemy than for a

companion. Erica understood this very well; but she could not forget

that Hund wanted to be houseman in Rolfs stead, and that he desired to

prevent their marriage.

"That is the very reason," said Rolf, "why we should marry as soon as we

can. Why not fix the day, and engage the pastor while he is here?"

"Because it would hurt Peder's feelings. There will be no difficulty in

sending for the pastor when everything is ready. But now, Rolf, that

all may go well, do promise not to run into needless danger."

"According to you," said Rolf, smiling, "one can never get out of

danger. Where is the use of taking care, if all the powers of earth and

air are against us? You think me as helpless, under Nipen's breath, as

the poor infant that put out into the fiord the other day in a tub."

"I am not speaking of Nipen now,--(not because I do not think of it;)--I

am speaking of Hund. Do promise me not to go more than four miles down

the fiord. After that, there is a long stretch of precipices, without a

single dwelling. There is not a boat that could put off,--there is not

an eye or an ear that could bear witness what had become of you, if you

and Hund should meet there."

"If Hund and I should meet there, I would bring him home, to settle what

should become of him."

"And all the pirates? You would bring them all in your right hand, and

row home with your left! For shame, Rolf, to be such a boaster!

Promise me not to go beyond the four miles."

"Indeed I can only promise to go where the shoal is. Four miles!

Suppose you say four furlongs, love."

"I will engage to catch herrings within four furlongs."

"Pray take me with you; and then I will carry you four times four miles

down, and show you what a shoal is. Really, love, I should like to

prove to you how safe the fiord is to one who knows every nook and

hiding-place from the entrance up. If fighting would not do, I could

always hide."

"And would not Hund know where to look for you?"

"Not he. He was not brought up on the fiord, to know its ways, and its

holes and corners: and I told him neither that, nor anything else that I

could keep from him; for I always mistrusted Hund.--Now, I will tell

you, love. I will promise you something, because I do not wish to hurt

you, as you sometimes hurt me with disregarding what I say,--with being

afraid, in spite of all I can do to make you easy. I will promise you

not to go further down, while alone, than Vogel islet, unless it is

quite certain that Hund and the pirates are far enough off in another

direction. I partly think, as you do, and as Erlingsen does, that they

meant to come for me the night you carried off their boat: so I will be

on the watch, and go no further than where they cannot hurt me."

"Then why say Vogel islet? It is out of all reasonable distance."

"Not to those who know the fiord as I do. I have my reasons, Erica, for

fixing that distance and no other; and that far I intend to go, whether

my friends think me able to take care of myself or not."

"At least," pleaded Erica, "let me go with you."

"Not for the world, my love." And Erica saw, by his look of horror at

the idea of her going, that he felt anything but secure from the

pirates. He took her hand, and kissed it again and again, as he said

that there was plenty for that little hand to do at home, instead of

pulling the oar in the hot sun. "I shall think of you all while I am

fishing," he went on. "I shall fancy you making ready for the seater.

[Note 1.] As you go towards Sulitelma any day now, you may hear the

voices of a thousand waterfalls, calling upon the herdmen and maidens to

come to the fresh pastures. How happy we shall be, Erica, when we once

get to the seater!"

Erica sighed, and pressed her lover's hand as he held hers.

"While I am fishing," he went on, "I shall fancy our young mistresses,

and Stiorna and you, washing all your bowls in juniper-water, ready for

your dairy. I know how the young ladies will contrive that all of my

carving shall come under your hand. And I shall be back with my fish

before you are gone, that I may walk beside your cart. I know just how

far you will ride. When we get the first sight of the grass waving, as

the wind sweeps over it on the mountain side, you will spring from the

cart, and walk with me all the rest of the way."

"All this would be well," said Erica, "if it were not for--"

"For what, love? For Nipen, again! If you will not mind what I say

about your silly fears, you shall hear from the pastor how wicked they

are. I see him yonder, in the garden. I will call him--"

"No, no! I know all he has to say," declared Erica.

But Rolf carried the case before M. Kollsen: and M. Kollsen, glad of

every opportunity of discoursing on this subject, came and took Rolfs

seat, and said all he could think of in contempt of the spirits of the

region, till Erica's blood ran cold to hear him. It was not kind of

Rolf to expose her to this: but Rolf had no fears himself, and was not

aware how much she suffered under what the clergyman said. The lover

stood by watching, and was so charmed with her gentle and submissive

countenance and manner, while she could not own herself convinced, that

he almost admired her superstition, and forgave her doubts of his being

able to take care of himself, while his deadly enemy on earth might

possibly be assisted by the offended powers of the air.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. Each Norway farm which is situated within a certain distance of

the mountains has a mountain pasture, to which the herds and flocks are

driven in early summer, and where they feed till the first frosts come

on. The herdmen and dairy-women live on the mountain, beside their

cattle, during this season, and enjoy the mode of life extremely. The

mountain pasture belonging to a farm is called the Seater. The

procession of herds and flocks, and herdmen and dairy-women with their

utensils, all winding up the mountain--"going to the seater," is a

pretty sight on an early summer's day.