LISBETH APPOINTED HEAD MILKMAID
It was the first Sunday after Easter, early in the morning. Lisbeth sat
by the small table in her little sleeping room, with one elbow leaning
on the table and her hand under her chin, while she stared down at a
big black book which lay open before her. The book was the New
Testament, and Lisbeth's lips moved softly as she read. That morning,
for the first time in several years, she had not gone into the cow
house. Kjersti Hoel had said that she was to have a couple of hours in
which she could be alone. No one was to disturb her.
She sat there somewhat stiff and helpless, in a long black dress with a
strip of white in the neck. The dress seemed to her rather tight, so
tight that she held her elbows close to her side and hardly dared to
bend her back. It was the first time she had had a close-fitting dress
on,--her usual costume being a jacket and skirt. Her light hair was
drawn smoothly back and twisted into a knot at her neck. That was for
the first time, too. She was a trifle paler than usual, and her lips,
as she moved them, were dark red and dewy; but her eyes shone with
peace. All in all, she was beautiful, as she sat there in her little
room waiting for church time to come. This was the day that she was to
be confirmed.
A knock was heard at the door, and in stepped Kjersti Hoel. She also
was dressed in her very best,--an old-fashioned black dress with a
gathered waist, and a freshly ironed cap with a frill around the face
and strings hanging down. In her hand she carried the big psalm book, a
handsome one printed in large type, which she used only on the greatest
occasions. On top of the psalm book lay a neatly folded pocket
handkerchief.
Standing still for a moment and looking earnestly at Lisbeth, Kjersti
said, "Do you think you are ready now, Lisbeth?"
Lisbeth answered quietly, "Yes, I think so."
"Then it is time for us to start. Come, let me tie your kerchief, so
that your hair will not get untidy."
She tied the kerchief on Lisbeth's head and then they went slowly out
through the hall way. Outside, at the door, stood the broad wagon with
the military horse harnessed to it.
"You may come and sit up here by me, Lisbeth," said Kjersti.
So they both got into the wagon and drove off. Not a word was spoken
the whole way. As they drove down the hill from the farm and out on the
main road, they were encompassed by all the effervescence of the
spring,--its myriads of sights, sounds, and odors. The brooks and
rivers rushed tunefully along, birds by the thousands were singing and
calling, insects were buzzing, trees and plants of many sorts were
pouring their fragrance over the whole valley; and above it all stood
the sun, shedding down its glittering light. But these things failed to
arouse in Lisbeth the feelings they usually awakened. They had,
instead, the effect of a roar and a disturbance, of something
inharmonious that caused her to quiver with discomfort. Involuntarily
she drew nearer to Kjersti on the wagon seat. She felt a longing for
one thing only,--silence. Thus they drove for a while along the sunlit
valley road.
Then suddenly a broad wave of sound came rolling toward them. The
church bells were adding their tones--broad, peaceful, sure--to the
general chorus. They did not drown the sounds of the spring, but took
them up, as it were, and ordered them, harmonized them, used them as a
gentle accompaniment; so that the whole seemed like a great psalm
singing and organ playing.
At the sound of the bells there came to Lisbeth a feeling of peace,
solemnity, and holiness, such as she had never known before. She felt
lifted up. A change came over the world about her: everything became
lighter, loftier, as if prepared for a sacred festival. She felt a
mighty gladness within her.
From that time on she had but a confused consciousness of what took
place. On arriving at the church she thought that the gathering of
people around it had never been so large or so reverent in demeanor,
and that the church had never looked so tall and shining.
As she went inside and walked up the church aisle she felt very erect
and free. The same wonderful light was within the church, too. And when
she looked down the lines of those who were to be confirmed with her,
as they stood with bowed heads on each side of the middle aisle, she
thought that their faces were strangely radiant.
When the priest came into the chancel it seemed to her that he was much
larger than ever before, and that his face was, oh, so mild! He began
to speak; and though she did not really hear or understand what he
said, she felt that it was something great and good, and it thrilled
her like music.
As soon as the psalm singing began she joined in with a stronger voice
than usual, her breast swelling involuntarily. When it came her turn to
be questioned she hardly knew whether she had heard what the priest
asked or not, but she was sure, nevertheless, that her answer, which
came forth clear and firm, was the right one. And when she knelt down
and gave the priest her hand, as the ceremony required, it seemed to
her that the awkward figures in the old altar pictures smiled
benignantly upon her.
She did not come wholly to herself until the confirmation ceremony was
entirely over and she had gone to her seat beside Kjersti Hoel in one
of the church pews.
As Lisbeth drew near, Kjersti took her hand and said half aloud, "May
it bring you happiness and blessing, Lisbeth!"
Lisbeth stood a moment, looked up at Kjersti as if just awakening,
smiled, and whispered softly, "Thanks, Kjersti Hoel."
Then, when the service was over, they walked out of church.
Outside the church door stood Jacob and Peter. They lifted their caps
to Kjersti and shook hands with her. Afterward they shook hands with
Lisbeth, lifting their caps to her, too, which had not been their
custom before her confirmation. They also said to her, "May it bring
you happiness and blessing!"
After that Kjersti and Lisbeth walked about the grassy space in front
of the church. They made slow progress, because there were so many
people who wanted to greet the mistress of Hoel and to ask what girl it
was that she had presented for confirmation on that day. At last they
reached the broad wagon, to which the horse had already been harnessed,
and, mounting into it, they set forth on their homeward way, returning
in silence, as they had come. Not until they had reached home did
Kjersti say, "You would like to be alone awhile this afternoon, too?"
"Yes, thank you," responded Lisbeth.
* * * * *
In the afternoon Lisbeth Longfrock again sat alone in the little room
in the hall way. Bearhunter, who had now become blind, lay outside her
door. Whenever he was not in the kitchen, where, as a rule, he kept to
his own corner, he lay at Lisbeth's door, having chosen this place in
preference to his old one on the flat stone in front of the house. To
lie on the doorstep where so many went out and in--and nowadays they
went so rudely--was too exciting for him; but Lisbeth always stepped
considerately.
As Lisbeth sat there in her room she was not reading in any book; in
fact, she was doing nothing at all. Spread out on the bed before her
lay her long frock, which she had not used that winter. It looked very
small and worn.
When she had come into her room, where the afternoon sun fell slantwise
upon the coverlet of her bed, picturing there the small window frame,
she had had a wonderful feeling of peace and contentment. It seemed to
her that there was not the least need of thinking about serious things
or of reading, either. She felt that the simplest and most natural
thing to do was merely to busy herself happily, without putting her
thoughts on anything in particular. She had no earthly possessions of
value, but she did have a small chest which she had received in the
second year of her stay at Hoel, and in this chest there was a tiny
side box and also a space in the lid where she had stored away the
little she owned that seemed worth keeping. She had pulled the chest
forward and opened it. To take the things out, look at each one, and
recall the memories connected with them was very pleasant.
There was a good-for-nothing old pocketknife that had been given to her
by Ole the first summer on the mountain. There was a letter from Ole,
too, that she had received the last autumn, and that no one knew about.
In it he had asked if he might send her and Jacob tickets to America
after she had been confirmed. She had not answered the letter yet, but
she would do it soon now, and thank him, and say that she was not
coming,--for she knew that she could never leave Norway.
And then she took out the goat horn that Peter had given her. She was
seized with a strong desire to play on it, but did not dare to, because
it would sound so strange in the house. Next to the place where the
goat horn had lain was a silk neckerchief that Peter had given her for
Christmas. He had sent it by Jacob. She herself had not seen or spoken
with Peter since that Sunday last year when he had found her on the
mountain, until to-day at the church.
And there was the letter she had received from Jacob in regard to their
meeting at Peerout Castle. It was the only letter she had ever had from
him,--Jacob was not one to write much; but she had a few small gifts
that he had sent her.
Down at the very bottom of the chest lay a kerchief that she had never
taken out before,--her mother's kerchief. It seemed to Lisbeth that now
was the first time she had really dared to think about her mother. She
took out the kerchief and spread it on the bed; and when, as she did
so, her eye caught sight of her old long frock hanging on the wall, she
spread that, too, on the bed. Then she seated herself and gazed upon
these simple objects. The time had arrived when it was possible for her
to look back without becoming hopelessly sorrowful; when she could
ponder over the rich memories which these poor relics hid,--the
memories from Peerout Castle not being the least precious. She sat
nourishing these thoughts a long time, beginning at the beginning, as
far back as she could remember, and going forward to this very Sunday.
The memories came easily and in regular succession, and all of them
were good memories. Everything that had seemed hard at the time either
had been forgotten or was seen now in a softer light.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door; and before Lisbeth had had
time to conceal the things, or presence of mind enough to rise from her
chair, in walked Kjersti Hoel.
Lisbeth saw that Kjersti noticed the things at once, but she was not in
the least embarrassed, for Kjersti only smiled kindly and said: "I see
that you are thinking about your mother to-day, Lisbeth, and that is
right; but now come with me into my room. There is something I wish to
talk with you about."
Lisbeth was half alarmed at this, for never before had Kjersti spoken
so seriously to her; but she rose quietly and did as she was bidden.
Kjersti went ahead, through the kitchen and across to the door of her
own room, Lisbeth following close behind her. The others in the kitchen
looked at them curiously, wondering what was going to happen.
Once in her room, Kjersti took a seat beside the table and asked
Lisbeth to sit at the opposite side. Then said Kjersti: "You are now
grown up, Lisbeth Longfrock, and hereafter you will be free to decide
things for yourself. I have kept the last promise I made to your
mother, and I can to-day say that it has been only a pleasure for me to
do so. You have turned out well, as may be expected of every good girl;
if you do as well in the future, I really believe that your mother
would be satisfied with both you and me. But from to-day I have no
longer any right to decide things for you. You must decide for yourself
what you will do and what you think is right. I will therefore ask
you--and you are to choose with entire freedom--whether you wish to
stay here with me any longer, or whether, now that you are to earn your
own living, you would rather try something else. I can add that I
should like very much to have you stay here."
For a while there was a deep silence. Then Lisbeth looked up with big
tears in her eyes and said, "I should like to stay with you, Kjersti
Hoel, as long as you are pleased with me."
"That is what I thought, and therefore I have also thought of another
thing. Of course you are very young yet, but it is not always unwise to
put responsibility on young shoulders. You have shown yourself so
faithful and capable, not only at the cow house but at the saeter as
well, that I have no fear in intrusting both to your care. If you wish
it to be so, I will now appoint you head milkmaid at Hoel Farm."