you my thoughts concerning Inger-Johanna. I cannot deny that she has
come to interest me almost more than I could wish; but, if we can feel
a certain degree of anxiety for the smallest flower in our window,
which is just going to blossom, how much more then for a human bud,
which in the developing beauty of its youth is ready to burst out with
its life's fate. This is more than a romance, it is the noble art work
of the Guide of all, which in depth and splendor and immeasurable
wealth surpasses everything that human fantasy is able to represent.
Yes, she interests me, dear Gitta! so that my old heart almost trembles
at thinking of the life path which may await her, when rise or fall may
depend on a single deceptive moment.
What can Nature mean in letting such a host of existences, in which
hearts are beating, succumb and be lost in this choice, or does it
thereby in its great crucible make an exact assay, without which
nothing succeeds in passing over into a more complete development--who
can unriddle Nature's runes? My hope for Inger-Johanna is that the fund
or the weight of personality, which she possesses in her own nature,
will preponderate in the scales of her choice in the decisive moment.
I premise all this as a sigh from my innermost heart; for I follow with
increasing dread how the path is made more and more slippery under her
feet, and how delicately your sister-in-law weaves the net around her,
not with small means to which Inger-Johanna would be superior, but with
more deep-lying, sounding allurements.
To open up the fascinating prospect of making her personal qualities
and gifts count--what greater attraction can be spread out before a
nature so ardently aspiring as hers? It is told of Englishmen that they
fish with a kind of counterfeited, glittering flies, which they drag
over the surface of the water until the fish bites; and it appears to
me that in no less skilful manner your sister-in-law continually tempts
Inger-Johanna's illusions. She never mentions the name of the one
concerned, so that it may dawn upon her of itself.
Only the careless hint to me, in her hearing, the last time I was
there, that Rönnow had certainly for some time been rather fastidiously
looking for a wife among the _élite_ of our ladies--why was not that
calculated to excite, what shall I call it, her ambition or her need of
having a field of influence?
Perhaps I should not have noticed this remark to that extent if I had
not seen the impression it made on her; she was very absent-minded and
lost in thoughts.
And yet the question of whether one should give her heart away ought to
be so simple and uncomplicated! Are you in love? Everything else only
turns on--something else.
The unfortunate and fateful thing is if she imagines she is able to
love, binds herself in duty to love, and thinks that she can say to her
immature heart: You shall never awaken. Dear Gitta, suppose it did
awaken--afterwards--with her strong, vigorous nature?
It is that which hovers before me so that I have been compelled to
write. To talk to her and make her prudent would be to show colors
to the blind; she must believe blindly in the one who advises her.
Therefore it is you, Gitta, who must take hold and write.
Ma laid the letter down in her lap; she sat in the light, looking paler
and sharper even than common.
It was easy for Aunt Alette, the excellent Aunt Alette, to think so
happily that everything should be as it ought to be. She had her little
inheritance to live on and was not dependent on any one. But--Ma
assumed a dry, repellent expression--without the four thousand, old and
tormented in Miss Jörgensen's place at the governor's, she would not
have written that kind of angelic letter.
Ma read on:
I must also advance here some further doubts, so that you will
certainly think this is a sad Christmas letter. This, then, is about
dear Jörgen, who finds it so hard at school. That he has thus far
been able to keep up with his class, we owe to Student Grip, who,
persistently and without being willing ever to hear a word about any
compensation, has gone over with him and cleared up for him his worst
stumbling-blocks, the German and the Latin grammar.
And if I now express his idea in regard to Jörgen, it is with no small
degree of confidence that it may be well founded. He says that so
far from Jörgen's having a poor head, it is just the opposite. Only
he is not made for the abstract, which is the requisite for literary
progress, but all the more for the practical.
In connection with a sound, clear judgment, he is both dexterous and
inventive. Jörgen would be an excellent mechanic or even a mechanical
engineer, and would come to distinguish himself just as certainly as he
will reap trouble, difficulty, and only extremely moderate results by
toiling from examination to examination in his studies.
To be sure, I cannot subscribe to Student Grip's somewhat youthful wild
ideas about sending him to be an apprentice in England (or even so far
as to the American Free States!) inasmuch as a mechanic cannot here
obtain a respected rank in society, such as is said to be the case in
the above named lands.
Still, much of this, it seems to me, is worth taking into serious
consideration.
I sometimes almost doubt whether, old as I am, nevertheless I might
be too young. Call it the fruit of inner development or simply an
attraction, but the thoughts of the young always exert an enlivening
and strengthening influence on my hope of life. Still, I never
reconcile myself to the thought that our ideals must inevitably, by a
kind of natural law, become exhausted and weakened and break from age
like any old earthenware.
And when I see a young man like Grip judged so severely by the
so-called practical men--not, so far as I understand, for his ideas
of education, but because he would sacrifice himself and put them in
operation--I cannot avoid giving him my whole sympathy and respect.
Now he has abandoned law and devoted himself to the study of
philology; for, he says, in this country no work is of any use without
a sign-board, and he will now try to get a richly gilded one in an
excellent examination, seize hold of untrodden soil, like the dwarf
birches upon the mountain, and not let go, even if a whole avalanche
comes over him.
When it is considered that he must work hard and teach several hours
daily only to be able to exist, I cannot but admire his fiery courage
and--true, I have not many with me--wish him good luck.
Ma sat pondering.
Then she cut out the page which spoke of Jörgen. It might be worth
while, if opportunity offered, to show it to Jäger. In the simplicity
of her heart, she really did not know what to think.
_Chapter XI_
Everything was white now in the very heart of winter, white from the
window-panes in the sitting-room to the garden, the fields, and the
mountain slopes, white as the eye glided over the mountain-tops up to
the sky, which lay like a semi-transparent, thickly frosted window-pane
and shut it all in.
It was cold here, the warm-blooded captain maintained. He began to
amuse himself with feeling and tracing out where there was a draught,
and then with pasting long strips of paper with cloth and oakum under
it. And then he used to go out from his work, with only his wig,
without his hat, and chat with the people in the stable or at the barn,
where they were threshing.
They were lonely there now with only Ma, Thea, and himself; no one
understood what Thinka had been for him!
At last he ended in pondering on laying out fox-traps and traps and
spring-guns for wolves and lynx in the hill pastures.
Ma was obliged a hundred times a day to answer what she thought, even
if she had just as much idea about it as about pulling down the moon.
"Yes, yes, do it, dear Jäger."
"Yes, but do you believe it will pay--that is what I am asking
about--to go to the expense of fox-traps?"
"If you can catch any, then--"
"Yes, if--"
"A fox skin is certainly worth something."
"Hadn't I better try to put out bait for lynx and wolf?"
"I should think that would be dearer."
"Yes, but the skin--if I get any; it depends on that, you see."
Then he would saunter thoughtfully out of the door, to come back an
hour later and again and again fill her ears with the same thing.
Ma's instinct told her that the object of his first catch was really
she; if she allowed herself to be fooled into giving positive advice,
he would not forget to let her feel the responsibility for the result,
if it should be a loss.
To-day he had again been pondering and going over the affair with her,
when they were surprised by the sheriff's double sleigh driving up to
the steps.
The hall door, creaking with the frost, flew open under the captain's
eager hand.
"In with you into the sitting-room, Sheriff."
Behind his wolf-skin coat Thinka emerged, stately and wrapped up in
furs.
"Your most obedient servant, kinsman, and friend."
The sheriff was on a business trip farther up, and asked for
hospitality for Thinka for two or three days, till he came back; he
would not omit to claim her again promptly. And, in the next place,
he must ask of his father-in-law the loan of a small sleigh for his
further journey; he should be way up in Nordal's annex this evening.
Thinka already had Torbjörg and Thea competing each for one of her
snow-stockings to get them off, and Marit was not free from eagerly
peeping in at the door.
"You shall, in any event, have a little something to eat and some
tea-punch, while the horse gets its breath, and they make the sleigh
ready."
The sheriff did not have much time to waste, but the sun of family life
shone too mildly here for him not to give a half hour, exactly by the
clock.
He made one or two attempts to get his things off, but then went to
Thinka.
"You have tied the knot in my silk handkerchief so well that you will
have to undo it yourself. Thanks, thanks, my dear Thinka.--She spoils
me completely. Nay, you know her, Captain."
"You see what she has already begun to be for me," he said later,
appealing with a pleasant smile to his father-in-law and mother-in-law
at the hastily served collation--he must have his tea-punch poured out
by Thinka's hand.
When the sheriff, carefully wrapped up by his young wife, was followed
out to the sleigh, Thinka's tea stood there almost untouched and cold;
but Ma came now with a freshly filled hot cup, and they could sit down
to enjoy the return home in peace.
He is certainly very good, Ma thought--he had guessed that Thinka was
homesick.
"The sheriff is really very considerate of you, Thinka, to let you come
home so soon," she said.
"Fine man! Would have to hunt a long time for his like!" exclaimed the
captain with a full, strong bass. "Treats you like a doll, Thinka."
"He is as good as he can be. Next week Miss Brun is coming to make over
a satin dress for me; it has only been worn once. Gülcke will have me
so fine," said Thinka, by way of illustration. The tone was so quiet
that it was not easy for Ma to tell what she meant.
"The fellow stands on his head for you; don't know what he will hit
upon."
Besides his wish to meet his wife's longing for home, the sheriff may
possibly also have determined to take her with him from a little regard
for the younger powers in the principal parish--Buchholtz and Horn.
They had begun to visit at his house somewhat often and evidently to
feel at home there, after a young, engaging hostess had come to the
house.
Towards evening the captain had a quiet game of picquet.
It seemed as if comfort accompanied Thinka. Her mediatorial and
soothing nature had come to the house again; it was felt both in parlor
and kitchen.
Father came again in the forenoon for a little portion of oat cake and
whey cheese when they were cooking salt meat and peas in the kitchen,
and Ma found first one thing and then another done for her and was
anticipated in many handy trifles, notwithstanding that Thinka also had
to finish a pair of embroidered slippers that Gülcke had expressed a
wish for. But there was plenty of time for that. She got well along on
the pattern while her father was taking his noonday nap, and she sat up
there and read him to sleep.
The captain found it so comfortable when he saw the needle and worsted
flying in Thinka's hand--it was so peacefully quiet--it was impossible
not to go to sleep.
And then he was going to have her for only three days.
While her fingers were moving over the canvas, Kathinka sat having a
solitary meditation--
Aas had sent her a letter when he heard of her marriage. He had
believed in her so that he could have staked his life on her constancy,
and even if many years were to have passed, he would have worked,
scrimped, and scraped in order at last to have been able to reach her
again, even if they should then both have left their youth behind
them. It had been his joyful hope that she would keep firm and wait
for him even through straits and poor circumstances. But now that she
had sold herself for goods and gold, he did not believe in any one any
more. He had only one heart, not two; but the misfortune was, he saw it
more plainly, that she also had--
"Huf! I thought I heard you sighing deeply," said the captain, waking
up; "that comes from lying and struggling on one's back. Now we shall
have some coffee."
Even if Thinka could not answer Aas, still she would try to relieve her
heart a little to Inger-Johanna. She had brought her last letter with
her to answer in this period of calm at home, and was sitting up in her
room with it before her, in the evening.
"Inger-Johanna is fortunate, as she has nothing else to think of," she
said to herself, sighing and reading:
And you, Thinka, you also ought to have your eye on your part of the
country, and make something out of the place into which you have now
come; it is indeed needed up there, for there is no doubt that society
has its great mission in the refinement of customs and the contest
against the crude, as aunt expresses it.
I am not writing this for nothing, nor wholly in the air; I stand,
indeed, too near to many conditions to be able to avoid thinking of
the possibility of sometime being placed in such a position. If I said
anything else, I should not be sincere.
And I must tell you, I see a great many things I should like to help
in. It must be that a place can be found for a good many ideas which
now, as it were, are excommunicated.
Society ought to be tolerant, aunt says; why, then, cannot such views
as Grip's be discussed peacefully? The first thing I would do would
be to go in for being extravagant and defending them. In a woman,
nevertheless, this is never anything more than piquancy. But ideas also
must fight their way into good society.
I ponder and think more than you can imagine; I feel that I ought to
put something right, you see.
And I am not any longer so struck with the wisdom of men altogether. A
woman like aunt keeps silent and pulls the strings; but you can never
imagine how many are led by her strings. She is, between ourselves, a
little diplomatic, in an old-fashioned way, and full of flourishes, so
that she almost makes it a pleasure to have it go unobserved and by a
roundabout way. Straight out would many times be better, I believe; at
any rate, that is my nature.
And still a little warning with it, Thinka (oh, how I feel I speak as
if I were in aunt's skin!) Remember that no one ever rules a room
except from a place on the sofa; I know you are so modest that they are
always getting you off on the chairs. You are not at all so stupid as
you imagine; only you ought not to try to hide what you think.
If I should sometime meet Grip again, I should convince him that there
may be other ways to Rome than just going head foremost at it! I have
got a little notion of my own since he last domineered me, with his
contempt for society, and was always so superior. But I have not had
more than one or two glimpses of him on the street the whole winter. He
is so taken up by his own affairs; and it isn't proper, uncle says, to
invite him to _soirées_, since he has pledged himself to certain strong
ideas, which one does not dare to hint at without provoking a very
serious dispute. In one or two gentlemen parties he has been entirely
too grandiloquent--drank too much, uncle thought. But I know so well
why. He must hit upon something, he used to say, when he gets tired and
bored too much, and at the Dürings there is a dreadful vacuum.
Thinka had read the letter through; there might be much to think of,
but she was so taken up by Aas--she was never done with rolling that
millstone.
* * * * *
During the monotony of winter, in the middle of February, a letter was
received, which the captain at first weighed in his hand and examined
two or three times--white, glossy vellum paper, C. R. in the seal--and
he tore it open.
Yes, to be sure, it was from Rönnow!--his brilliant, running hand with
the peculiar swing, which brought him to mind, as his elegant form,
with a jaunty tread, moved up and down.
CAPTAIN PETER JÄGER,--Highly esteemed, dear old comrade and friend:
I shall not preface this with any long preludes about position in life,
prospects, etc., but go straight on with my prayer and request.
As you have seen that my cards are lucky--really more as they have been
dealt than as I have played them--you will certainly understand that in
the last two or three years I have found it proper to look about for
a wife and a partner for life who would be suitable for my condition.
But during the whole of my seeking there was hidden in the most secret
corner of my heart a black-haired, dark-eyed girl, whom I first saw by
the card-table one winter evening up at Gilje, and whom I have since
seen again and again with ever more fascination during her development
into the proud woman and lady whose superior nature was incontestable.
Now, with my round six-and-forty years, I shall not hold forth with
any long tale of my love for her, although, perhaps, there might be a
good deal to say on that point also. That I am not old inwardly I have
at all events fully found out on this occasion.
It goes without saying that I do not address my prayer to you without
having first satisfied myself by a close and long acquaintance that
your daughter also could cherish some feelings responsive to mine.
That the result has not been to my disadvantage is apparent from her
precious reply to me, received yesterday, in which I have her yes and
consent.
In the hope that a sincere conduct and intention will not be
misconstrued, I herewith address the prayer and the question to you
and your dear wife--whether you will trust to me the future of your
precious Inger-Johanna?
What a man can do to smooth and make easy her path of life, that I dare
promise, on my _parole d'honneur_, she shall never lack.
I will also add that when the court, towards the end of May or the
early part of June, goes to Christiania, I shall be on duty and go too.
I shall then be able again to see her on whom all my hope and longing
are placed.
In anxious expectation of your honored answer,
Most respectfully,
Your always faithful friend,
CARSTEN RÖNNOW
Here was something better to think about than to talk with Ma about
fox-traps and spring-guns.
There would not be any after-dinner nap to-day.
He rushed out into the yard with great force: another man must thresh
in the barn; the manure must be drawn out; they must hurry!
He came in and seated himself on the sofa and lighted a lamplighter,
but jumped up again while he held it to his pipe. He remembered that
a message must be sent to the smith to mend the harrows and tools for
spring.
There was no help for it, he must go down and tell the news to the
sheriff himself.
_Chapter XII_
During the first days of March Inger-Johanna wrote:
This comes so close upon my former, because I have just received a
letter from Rönnow about something on which I would gladly, dear
parents, have you stand on my side, when you, as I foresee, receive
aunt's explicit and strong representation and reasons in the opposite
direction.
Rönnow already writes as if it were something certain and settled that
we should have the wedding in the summer, in June or July. Aunt wants
it at her house, and hopes that, in any event, you, father, will come
down.
Rönnow urges so many amiable considerations which speak for it, and I
do not at all doubt that aunt in her abundant kindness will take care
to make it doubly sure with a four-page letter full of reasons.
But against all this I have only one thing to say, that I, at the time
I gave my consent to Rönnow, did not at all foresee such haste without,
as it were, a little time and breathing-space for myself.
It is possible that others cannot understand this feeling of mine,
and especially it seems that aunt thinks it does not exactly show the
degree of heartiness of feeling that Rönnow could expect.
But to the last, which is certainly the only one of the whole number
she can urge that is worth answering, I will only say, that it cannot
possibly be Rönnow's intent to offend my innermost sensibilities when
he learns how I feel about it.
I only ask for suitable time--for instance, till some time next winter.
I should so much like to have this year, summer and autumn at least, a
little in quiet and peace. There is so much to think over, among other
things my future position. I want first to study the French grammar
through, and I should prefer to do it at home alone, and generally to
prepare myself. It is not merely like jumping into a new silk dress.
Oh, I wish, I wish, I wish I could be at Gilje this summer! I sat
yesterday thinking how delightful it was there last year on the high
mountains!
No, aunt and I would not agree permanently. Her innermost, innermost
peculiarity (let it be never so well enveloped in amiability and gentle
ways of speech) is that she is tyrannical. Therefore she wants now to
manage my wedding, and therefore--which can now vex and disturb me, so
that I haven't words for it!--she has in these days got my good-natured
(but not especially strong-minded, it would be a pity to say that!)
uncle to commit the act, which is far from being noble, of dismissing
Grip from his position in the office. It is just like robbing him of
half of what is needed to enable him to live and study here, and that
only because she does not tolerate his ideas.
I let her know plainly what I thought about it, that it was both
heartless and intolerant; I was so moved.
But why she pursues him to the seventh and last--for with aunt there is
always something for the seventh and last--that I should still like to
know.
Regard must naturally be paid to Inger-Johanna's wish to postpone the
wedding. And so there was writing and writing to and fro.
But then came Rönnow's new promotion and with it the practical
consideration, which weighed on the scales, that housekeeping must be
begun on moving-day in October.
* * * * *
There was a general brushing up at Gilje from top to bottom, inside and
out. The rooms upstairs must be whitened and everything put in order
for the arrival of the newly married couple to remain this summer, the
whole of July, after the wedding.
And when Inger-Johanna should come she was to meet a surprise--the
whole of the captain's residence, by order of the army department,
newly painted red with red-lead and white window sashes.
The captain's every-day coat had a shower of spots at all times
in the day, as he stood out by the painter's ladder and watched
the work--first the priming and now the second coat; then came the
completion, the third and last. The spring winds blew, so that the
walls dried almost immediately.
He was a little dizzy off and on during all this, so that he must stop
and recover his balance; but there was good reason for it, because the
parish clerk this year had not taken enough blood, since he had become
so much stouter!--and then perhaps he pushed on too hard and eagerly;
for he did long for Inger-Johanna's return.
He talked of nothing but Inger-Johanna, of her prospects, beauty, and
talents, and how Ma could not deny that he had seen what there was in
her from the time when she was very small.
But Ma still thought privately, while he was going about boisterous and
happy, that he had been less stout and more healthy when he had more
anxieties and had to take the world harder. She had let him into the
secret of Aunt Alette's misgivings in respect to Jörgen's capacities
for scholarship.
"I have not been able to avoid thinking, Jäger, that Jörgen might not
find happiness in that line."