"Det var en Lørdag aftenJeg sad og vented digDu loved mig at komme vistMen kom dog ej til mig."
This song of the people possesses a rare plaintiveness,and describes how a peasant girl had expected her lover, but he came not, and her grief at seeing him with a rival. The ballad is touching to a degree, and the verse—
"Hvor kan man plukker RoserHvor ingen Roser groer?Hvor kan man finde KjærlighedHvor Kjærlighed ej boer?""Where can one pluck rosesWhere no roses grow?Where can one find affectionWhere no affection lives?"
is exquisitely tender. Helga had heard the song often, and sang it herself, but it had never seemed to possess such a depth of feeling.
Hardy got up from the piano, and saw that Helga's eyes were tearful.
"I thank you, Hardy," said the Pastor. "No man can sing like that unless his heart is true."
"I am sure of it, father," said Helga. "I never heard anything so beautiful in my life!"
"But, Hardy, you are going away; and how will you take the piano?" asked Pastor Lindal.
"If you would allow it to remain with you, Herr Pastor, during the autumn and winter, I should be much indebted to you," said Hardy. "But if Frøken Helga would accept it as a recollection of a cool and calculating Englishman, I will give it her with pleasure."
Before the Pastor could reply, his daughter had.
"I will accept it gratefully;" and she rose up and, after the Danish manner, gave her hand to Hardy, and said, using a Danish expression, "a thousand thanks."
"Thank you, Hardy, very much," said the Pastor. "You have done us many kindnesses; but after visiting the poor and the sick in my parish, the knowledge that I shall hear my daughter's voice, that is so like my wife's, singing in the winter evenings, will be a comfort to me."
The next day they went to Rosendal, and met Macdonald with his plans. The being on the spot and understanding what was proposed to be done was a different thing to seeing the plans at the parsonage. The reality struck Helga. She was much interested, and Hardy saw that she understood and entered into everything. There was nothing to suggest or to alter in Macdonald's plans, and Hardy at once arranged for their execution. The Danish bailiff was at first obstructive, but Hardy's quiet, decisive manner changed the position, and gradually it dawned upon him that the place would be greatly improved, and that the residence of an English family for part of the year at Rosendal would not prejudice him.
Karl and Axel had been on the lake trolling, but they had caught nothing, and came back disappointed to the mansion, and begged Hardy to fish, if but to catch one pike.
Hardy said he could not leave the Pastor and his daughter while he went fishing with them.
"We must have a pike for dinner," said the Pastor, "and as the boys cannot catch one, you must, Hardy."
"May I go in the boat?" asked Helga. "I have never seen Herr Hardy fish."
"Oh, pike-fishing is nothing," said Karl "It is trout-fishing with a fly that Herr Hardy does so well."
Hardy got into the boat, and put his gear in order, which had been disarranged by the boys' efforts to fish. A man accustomed to the lake rowed it, and Helga stepped into it. She remarked it was wet and dirty.
"That is the boys' doing," said Hardy, as he pulled off his coat for her to sit on.
They rowed on the lake, and Hardy cast his trolling-bait with the long accurate cast habitual to him, and caught four pike, and then directed the boat to be rowed ashore.
As Frøken Helga stepped ashore, where her father and brothers were waiting for her, she said, "I can understand the boys' enthusiasm for Herr Hardy; when Lars (the boatman) pointed out a place where a pike might be, although yards away, the bait was dropped in it and the pike caught. I wish Herr Hardy would let me see him catch fish on the Gudenaa with flies."
"We can do that to-morrow evening," said Hardy,"as you cannot get up at three in the morning, as we are accustomed to do."
"I cannot let little father miss his evening talk with you, Herr Hardy, and to get up at three in the morning these summer days is no hardship to me. May I go to-morrow?" asked Helga.
"Certainly, if you wish it," said Hardy.
As they returned home, Karl expressed no wish to ride Buffalo, and Garth rode it, and Hardy drove his Danish horses.
"I should like to see how you drive; may I come up and sit beside you?" said Helga.
After they had gone a little way, Hardy said to her, "Take the reins and drive. I have bought these horses for my mother, and she will drive them herself, and you can drive them. Draw the reins gently to the horses' mouths and let them go as you wish them. To slacken speed, draw the reins firmly but gently, and they will obey."
Helga drove the carriage to the parsonage.
"Little father," said Helga, "I have driven you all the way from the entrance gate at Rosendal."
"I am glad," said the Pastor, "you did not tell me that before, as I should have been in great anxiety."
"But Herr Hardy was sitting by me, little father," said Helga, "and there was no danger when he is near."
"The trout and salmon being in season have, at their first taking out of the water, their bodies adorned with such red spots, and the other with such black spots, as give them such an addition of natural beauty as I think was never given to any woman by artificial paint or patches."—The Complete Angler.
John Hardy had tied a couple of casting lines with the flies he usually fished with on the Gudenaa, and came down a little before three the next day.
Karl and Axel yet slept, but their sister called them, and after the accustomed cup of coffee and rusks they went out to fish on the Gudenaa. Of late Hardy had hired a flat-bottomed boat, and a man called Nils Nilsen rowed or punted it with a pole, as on the Thames, or he went ashore on the towing-path and pulled it up the river with a towing rope, while a minnow was cast from the boat.
Hardy had taken a travelling rug for Helga to sit on, and Nils Nilsen towed the boat up the river, while Hardy fished with a minnow and caught a few trout. When they reached the shallows, which Hardy usually fished with a fly, he sent the boys on land to cast from the bank, and Nils Nilsen took the pole to puntthe boat slowly down the stream. The trout rose freely for about an hour, and Helga had charge of the landing-net, and lost for Hardy several good fish, to Nils Nilsen's great disgust. She saw the long casts Hardy made, the light fall of the fly on the water, while a slight motion of the line threw the flies repeatedly on the surface of the river like real flies, and as soon as a trout rose the line was tightened with a sudden motion, and the trout drawn gradually to within reach of the landing-net.
"May I try, Herr Hardy, to throw the line for the Fish?" asked Helga.
"Certainly," replied Hardy, and he shortened the line to allow her to do so.
Her first attempt was to hook Hardy's cap; her next was to hook Nils Nilsen by the ear.
"It seems so easy to do," said Helga, as she handed Hardy the rod, who showed her how to cast the line as well as he was able.
"You will fish better from the bank, where it is not necessary to cast such a long line," said Hardy. "We will try a little lower down."
Helga followed his instructions, and at length hooked a trout, which Hardy picked out with the landing-net.
"I do so like this sort of fishing," said Helga; "it is the way a lady should fish, if she fished at all."
"Many English ladies are good fly fishers," said Hardy; "and I have seen them catch salmon inNorway. I will, with pleasure, leave my rods and tackle here, if you would like to fish with Axel; he can show you how to attach the flies to the line, and anything else necessary."
"Thank you so much!" replied Helga; and as she raised her eyes to his, with her handsome face lit up by exercise, Hardy saw how beautiful she was. Her manner towards him had changed. She talked freely to him now, and without reserve.
"We will put a mark on the trout you have caught," said Hardy, "that we may know it again after it has been in the frying-pan. The Herr Pastor does not often eat fish of his daughter's catching. It weighs just half an English pound."
"How can you tell?" asked Helga.
"I guess it to be so; but we will soon see," replied Hardy, as he took a little spring balance out of his pocket, and held it up to her with the trout on it. "That little line is the half-pound, and the fish pulls the spring to that line."
"What a pretty thing to weigh with! Is it silver?" asked Helga.
"Yes, it is silver," replied Hardy. "I will leave it with you, with the rest of the fishing gear, on the condition that the first time you catch a trout weighing one pound you write and tell me all about it."
"Yes, that I will!" said Helga. "I write my father's letters, and shall have to write to you for him about Rosendal."
At breakfast, Helga described to her father all the little incidents of the morning, and her bright fresh look testified to the benefit of early morning exercise.
"I think, Helga," said the Pastor, "that when Karl is gone, you had better go fishing in the morning with Axel; you look the better for it."
When the tobacco parliament was opened that evening, and the Pastor had finished puffing like a small steam launch to get his porcelain pipe well lit. Hardy asked him if there was anything in the superstitions of Jutland, corresponding to those of the sea, about the rivers.
"Yes," replied the Pastor. "Our Danish word for river is 'Aa' (pronounced like a broado). Thus, the Gudenaa is the Guden river. The tradition is that each river has its Aamand or river man, who every year craves a life; if a year passes without a victim, he can be heard at night saying, 'The time and hour are come, but the victim is not yet come.' Sometimes the Aamand is called Nøkken."
"That is the Norsk name," said Hardy. "In Scotland they have a superstition as to changelings; that is, a human child is stolen and a child of the Trolds substituted. This is referred to by Sir Walter Scott in one of his poems. Does anything of the sort exist in your Jutland traditions?"
"There are several varied stories," replied Pastor Lindal. "One is of a couple who had a very pretty child; they lived near a wood called Rold Wood.The Trolds came one night and stole the child, leaving one of their own in its place. The man and his wife did not at first notice any change, but the wife gradually became suspicious, and she asked the advice of a wise woman, who told her to brew in a nutshell, with an eggshell as beer barrel, in the changeling's presence, who exclaimed that it had lived so many years as to have seen Rold Wood hewn down and grow up three times, but had never seen any one brew in a nutshell before. 'If you are as old as that,' said the wife, 'you can go elsewhere;' and she took the broom-stick and beat the changeling until it ran away, and as it ran he caught his feet in his hands and rolled away over hill and dale so long as they could see it. This story has a variation that they made a sausage with the skin, bones, and bristles of a pig, and gave the changeling, who made the same exclamation, with the result as I have before related. There is also another variation, where the changeling is got rid of by heating the oven red hot and putting it into the oven, when the Trold mother appears and snatches it out, and disappears with her child."
"The superstition would appear to have arisen from children being affected with diseases which were not understood," said Hardy.
"We can only speculate," said the Pastor, "in these subjects; the origin is lost in the mists of time. There is one story of a changeling that has somegraphic incidents. When a child is born, a light is always kept burning in the mother's room until the child is baptized, as the Trolds may come and steal it. This was not done at a place in North Jutland, because the mother could not sleep with the light burning. The father therefore determined to hold the child in his arms, so long as it was dark in the room, but he fell asleep; shortly after he was aroused, and he saw a tall woman standing by the bed, and found that he had two children in his arms. The woman vanished, but the children remained, and he did not know which was his own. He consulted a wise woman, who advised him to get an unbroken horse colt, who would indicate the changeling. Both children were placed on the ground, and the colt smelt at them; one he licked, but the other he kicked at. It was therefore plain which was the changeling. The Trold mother came running up, snatched the child away, and disappeared."
"The advice of the wise woman was clever. It is, as you say, a graphic story," said Hardy. "But who were the wise women?"
"There were both men and women. They were called Kloge Mænd and Kloge Koner, or wise men and wise wives. They pretended to heal diseases, to find things lost or stolen, and the like. They were often called white witches, as in England. There was a man called Kristen, who pretended to have wonderful powers. A certain Bonde did not believe in him, andone day told him that he had a sow possessed with a devil. The sow was simply vicious. Kristen at once offered to drive the devil out of the sow. He instructed the Bonde and his men not to open the door of the stable in which the pig was, even if they saw him (Kristen) come and knock and shout, as the devil would take upon him his appearance, to enable him to escape better. Kristen went into the stable and began to exorcise. The sow, however, rushed at him and chased him round the stable, and every time Kristen passed the door, he shouted to the Bonde and his men to open it, but they, pretending to follow his instructions, would not. At last, when Kristen was nearly dead with fatigue, they opened the door. Of course, Kristen never heard the last of that sow."
"That is not a bad story," said Hardy.
"You have read Holberg's comedies?" said the Pastor. "In one of them you will recollect a thief is discovered from amongst the other domestics of the house, by their being ranged behind the man who had been asked to discover the thief, and who tells them all to hold their hands up. He asks if they are all holding their hands up, as his back is towards them. They all reply, 'Yes;' and the man then asks if the person who has stolen the silver cup is holding up his hand. The thief replied 'Yes,' thus discovering himself. There is a story of a watch being stolen in a large household in Jutland. The white witch was sent for, and he discovered the thief by ranging thedomestics round a table and making each domestic put a finger on the table, over which he held a sharp axe. He asked each if they had stolen the watch, as the axe would fall and cut off the finger of the one who had. He detected the thief by his at once removing his finger."
"Verily a wise man," said Hardy. "In Norway I used to meet with the word 'Dværg,' as applied to supernatural beings.
"Dværg is dwarf in Danish," replied the Pastor; "but there are many stories of them, and in a superstitious sense. Dværg are analogous to Underjordiske, or underground people. The tradition of their origin is, that Eve was one day washing her children at a spring, when God suddenly called her, at which she was frightened, and hid two of the children that were yet unwashed, as she did not wish Him to see them when dirty. God said, 'Are all your children here?' and she replied, 'Yes.' God said, 'What is hidden from Me shall be hidden from men;' and from these two children are descended the Dværg and Underjordiske. The most striking story of a Dværg is that in the Danish family Bille, who have a Dværg in their coat of arms. There was, many hundred years ago, such a dry time in the land that all the water-mills could not work, and the people could not get their corn ground. A member of the family of Bille was in his Herregaard, and was much troubled on this account. A little Dværg came to him, who was covered with hair, andhad a tree in his hand plucked up by the roots. 'What is the matter?' said the Dværg. 'It is no use my telling you' said Bille; 'you cannot help me.' The Dværg replied, 'You cannot get your corn ground, and you have many children and people that want bread; but I will show you a place on your own land where you can build seven corn-mills, and they shall never want water.' So Herr Bille built the seven mills, and they have never wanted water, winter or summer. The Dværg gave him also a little white horn, and told Herr Bille that as long as it was kept in the family, prosperity would attend it. This legend belongs to Sjælland."
"I suppose there are many traditions in families in Denmark?" said Hardy.
"Very many," replied the Pastor. "There is a story of Tyge Brahe, or, as you call him in England, Tycho. He was at a wedding, and got into a quarrel with a Herr Manderup Parsberg, and it went so far that they fought a duel. Tyge Brahe lost his nose. But he had a nose made of gold and silver, so artistically correct that no one could see that it was any other than his own nose, and of flesh and blood; but to be sure that it should not be lost, he always carried some glue in his pocket."
"I never heard that story of the great astronomer," said Hardy.
"There is a story also of a Herr Eske Brok, who lived in Sjælland. He was one day walking with aservant, and was swinging about his walking-stick, when suddenly a hat fell at his feet. He picked it up and put it on, when he heard an exclamation from his servant Then said Brok, 'You try the hat;' and they found that whoever had the hat on was invisible to the other. After a while, a bareheaded boy came to Brok's house and inquired for his hat, and offered a hundred ducats for it, and afterwards more. At last, the boy promised that if he gave him the hat none of his descendants should ever want. Brok gave the hat to the boy; but as he went away he said, 'But you shall never have sons, only daughters.' So Eske Brok was the last of his name."
"That boy must have been a Dværg," said Hardy.
"Quite as probable as the story," said the Pastor. "There is, however, another impossible story of a Herr Manderup Holck of Jutland. He was taken prisoner by the Turks, and his wife contrived his escape by sending him a dress of feathers, so that he could fly out of his Turkish prison and home to Jutland. She, with very great prudence, collected all the bed-clothes in the parish, that he should fall soft when he alighted in Jutland."
"The story is so improbable that it must be very old indeed," said Hardy.
"I think the tradition about the Rosenkrands' arms is older," said Pastor Lindal. "The date attached to it is given as A.D. 663. The son of the then King of Denmark went to England to help an English king,whose name is given as Ekuin, in his wars. He secretly married the daughter of the crown prince, and by her had a son. She placed the child in a box of gold, and placed a consecrated candle and salt in the box, because the child was not baptized. One day, her father, Prince Reduval, rode by and saw the child, and as it was in a gold box he concluded that it came from a noble source. He brought it up under the name of Karl. King Ekuin died, and Prince Reduval succeeded, and he was the first Christian king in England. He desired to marry Karl to his daughter, who was his own mother; but when the marriage should take place, she confessed that the bridegroom was her own son. The king therefore wanted to burn her at the stake, but Karl arranged matters so that his father should be married to his mother, who for nineteen years had been separated from her. Karl had painted on his arms a white cross, to show he was a Christian, then white and blue, to show he was both an English and a Danish prince. In one quartering he had a lion painted white with a crown, to signify Denmark, and in another quartering a lion, to signify England, and then a design like a chessboard, to betoken the long separation of his father and mother."
"I think the story rather clashes with history," said Hardy; "but Rosenkrands means a wreath of roses."
"Yes, it does," said the Pastor. "One of them went to Rome, and the pope gave him a wreath of roses; hence the name."
"You will miss Herr Hardy, little father," said Helga. "In two days he leaves us. Cannot he stay longer?"
"No, I cannot," said Hardy. "My mother wishes me to return. She is anxious to see me, and I am anxious to tell her my experiences in Denmark; but whatever my own wishes are, I must obey hers."
"What sort of person is your mother?" asked Helga.
"The best and kindest," replied Hardy, as he took a photograph out of his pocket-book and handed her, which Helga looked at with evident interest.
"I feel what you say of her is true," said Helga. "Little father, it is a noble face."
"It is like you, Hardy," said the Pastor. "She must have been handsome."
"Yes, but she is," said Hardy. "Here is a photograph of her picture at twenty-two;" and he handed the Pastor another photograph.
Helga looked over her father's shoulder. "It is lovely!" she said, with warmth. "It is more like you, Herr Hardy, than the other."
"As you like the photographs, Frøken," said Hardy, "keep them; it is seldom a compliment is so well uttered."
"Viator.—That will not be above a day longer; but if I live till May come twelvemonth, you are sure of me again, either with my Master Walton or without him."—The Complete Angler.
The next morning, John Hardy was up early, studying the excellent map of Jutland by Oberst Mansa. It gives the roads and by-ways with much care and correctness. The idea had occurred to him to drive the hundred and odd English miles from the parsonage to Esbjerg. The horses must be sent there to meet the steamer; the weather was settled, and as it was early in August, the early mornings and evenings were pleasant He accordingly sketched out the route, with the distances from one little Jutland town to another, and it was clear a good deal could be seen and the drive would be enjoyable.
Hardy came down to the little reception-room, where breakfast was usually served, and opened out Mansa's map on the table. Frøken Helga was there, and her two brothers, Karl and Axel.
"I want to speak to your sister, boys," said Hardy; "you will hear all about it by-and-by, if you will go out for a while."
The boys left. Helga looked a little startled. Hardy said, "I have an extraordinary proposition to make; but you must not look so frightened." Helga had turned pale, her knitting dropped. "I only want your attention to this map of Jutland," added Hardy. He saw her face was now full of colour; but what about the map of Jutland? Hardy, an inconsistent man for the moment, was thinking of who else in the world but Kapellan Holm, and his being at Vandstrup Præstegaard all the winter, and that was not the map of Jutland. Suddenly it flashed across his mind that Pastor Lindal had told him about Kapellan Holm, and that Karl had repeated what Mathilde Jensen had said about his buying Rosandal. As he sat thinking, he looked all the time at Helga. At length he said, "I am going home to my mother, Frøken, but I hope to be here in May; earlier I cannot come, because it would be cold for my mother to travel."
"We shall be glad to see you, Herr Hardy; and I long to see your mother," said Helga.
Then Hardy knew that Kapellan Holm was nowhere, and his face grew bright, and he was ready for the map of Jutland.
Hardy explained his idea of driving to Esbjerg, and the extraordinary proposition was that he proposed to take not only Karl, but Helga Lindal herself and Axel.
"I should so like it," said Helga, "but——"
"I know," said Hardy, "that there are likely tobe several 'buts.' The serious one is that the Pastor would not like to leave his parish for five days. Can this be arranged? Can he get any one to come here?"
"He will write the Provost" (the dean), replied Helga. "But he has already arranged to go to Esbjerg to see Karl off to England, and as we thought you might go to England earlier, a Hjælpe-præst is ready to come here at any time; a day more or less will make no difference."
"The next 'but' is, whether the Herr Pastor would like it," said Hardy.
"That I am sure he will; but he must consider the expense," replied Helga, "and there would be the extra railway expense of my returning here."
"Then we leave at midday for Silkeborg," said Hardy. "Will you, Frøken, tell your father about it? he is in his study; and now we can tell the boys;" and he called them, sent Axel for Garth, and told Karl to be ready at midday.
The Pastor immediately bustled in. "What a scheme you have hatched!" he said.
"Yes; but you cannot have had time to have heard it," said Hardy, "much more to condemn it."
"Helga came into my study and said, 'Little father, Herr Hardy wants to drive us all by stages to see Karl off; can we go?' Now, is that the scheme?"
"Certainly," replied Hardy. "We want you to send our heavy luggage to the station for Esbjerg,and a telegram to Silkeborg to order dinner at five and beds, and leave here at midday. The next day we can get to Horsens, and then to Veile, or farther. I have taken out the different places and distances by Mansa's map, which you can check. Here is also the English guide-book for Jutland. We can have a row on the lake at Silkeborg this evening, and as I have been your guest so long, I invite you to be mine to Esbjerg. I must leave now, or we should miss the steamer."
Hardy's quiet self-possession overcame the scruples the Pastor was about to make. He had been bound to his parish for years, and not even his youngest son would enjoy the drive to Esbjerg more.
"Honestly said," the Pastor spoke, addressing Hardy, and using a familiar Danish phrase, "I should enjoy it more than I can say."
Helga liked Hardy's way of treating the money difficulty. It was done with such tact that it seemed as if Hardy was receiving a favour.
Axel came in with Robert Garth.
"Bob," said Hardy, in English, "we shall drive to Esbjerg by stages; clear everything, and get ready to start at twelve."
"Thank you, sir," said Garth, and was gone.
"What did you say." said Helga, whose knowledge of English was slight. Hardy explained.
The man's ready obedience struck her, and lingered in her mind long after. She was not accustomed tothe prompt execution of such an order by a servant, and attributed it to Hardy's personal character and influence.
After breakfast, during which much conversation arose on the proposed drive, Hardy came down with his fly-rods, books, and reels, and the precious little spring balance.
"There," he said, "Frøken Helga, is all the fly-fishing gear; the flies in the small book are best for the Gudenaa. I hope you will break all the rods and smash all the tackle, to give me the pleasure of bringing you fresh ones from England."
She thanked him in the Danish manner that Hardy liked so much in her.
At twelve they left for Silkeborg. Hardy drove, and Garth rode Buffalo. The Pastor sat by Hardy's side, and told many an interesting anecdote of the places they passed. The circumstances of the Danish families, the tradition of a Kæmpehøi or tumulus, and the social condition of the people were all known to him. Hardy drove slowly, as the day was warm, and he wished to spare his horses, and it was not until a little after five that they reached the hotel at Silkeborg. Hardy had been there before, with Karl and Axel, and they knew him, and obeyed his telegram to the letter.
"I have a proposition to make," said Hardy, "but I will leave it to my guests to do as they please, I propose we have a row on the lake this evening,but not for long; but to-morrow that we rise at six and charter one of the wheel boats, that is the paddle-wheel boats that are worked by hand, and visit Himmelbjerg, and have breakfast there, and the carriage can meet us at the foot of the hill, at a point to the south of it, and we can drive on to Horsens."
"Excellent!" said Helga, using a Danish expression. "But it will be a long day for my father."
"We should get to Horsens at six, and we can telegraph to the hotel to be ready to receive us at that time," said Hardy. "But the next day is only nineteen English miles to Veile, and would be less fatiguing."
"I like to be tired, Hardy, by outdoor exercise," said Pastor Lindal. "Your plan is excellent, and is just what I should not only like, but enjoy."
The row on the lake was very pleasant. The Pastor told the story of Bishop Peter applying to the pope to decree a separation of all the married priests from their wives, and how the three sisters of the priest there drew lots who should go to Rome to get a dispensation for their brother to keep his wife. The lot fell on the youngest, and she went to Rome and got the pope's permission; but on the condition that she should have cast three bells, which she shipped at Lubeck, one bell was lost in the sea, and the two others were placed in two churches near Aarhus.
The view from Himmelbjerg has the strong charmof great variety. The lakes are spread out below, amongst woods, heaths, meadows, and cultivated land. The early morning gives the view at its best. There are views and views, but the variety of prospect from Himmelbjerg impresses. Juul Sø, the lake at the foot of the Himmelbjerg, is at times lovely.
Axel was, however, very hungry. The view might be good, but a growing boy's appetite is good also. He asked his father if he might go to the restaurant in Himmelbjerg and get a bit of Smør-brød (bread and butter). Karl said he wanted to go, too. There had been the long row up the lakes, the walks about Himmelbjerg, and even Frøken Helga looked hungry. As soon as they came to the restaurant, the waiter told them that breakfast was waiting for them.
"Waiting for us!" said the Pastor; "it is more likely we shall have to wait for our breakfast."
"I thought that you might prefer that the breakfast should be ready, and I ordered it yesterday. I sent a note up last night," said Hardy.
The breakfast was the more enjoyed from Hardy's thoughtfulness, so much so that when the inevitable porcelain pipe was filled, it was a difficulty to get the Pastor down the Himmelbjerg. When they at last reached the carriage, which a man from the hotel at Silkeborg had driven, as Garth had charge of Buffalo, the Pastor decided to go in the carriage, and not by Hardy's side. Helga, after seeing her father comfortable,got up by Hardy, and talked to him unreservedly.
The bright ripple of Helga's talk was pleasant to hear in its clear transparency. She told Hardy of her father so long as she could recollect, and the great sorrow that fell upon him when her mother died, and how difficult it was to keep him from the bitter memory of his loss; that she was with him at every spare moment, and how at times it was beyond her power to cheer him; but that since Hardy had been with them, her father had scarcely shown a sign of the sorrow they knew was always at his heart.
"It is the way you listen," said Helga, "that my father likes. You cannot, he says, speak Danish as well as we Danes, but your manner of listening is perfect, and that there is a respectful attention impossible to describe."
"I can describe it," said Hardy, laughing. "The fact is, I know Danish not very perfectly, and my whole attention is necessary to grasp what is said."
"I told him so," said Helga; "but he said there is more than that—it was true politeness."
"Well," said Hardy, "you have now explained that you have not so good an opinion of me as your father."
"No," said Helga; "that's not my meaning. I only related what passed, and I am not able to judge any one like my father."
"I have heard, however, that you have differed from your father in judging a particular person," said Hardy, "and a man whom your father speaks well of."
"That is Kapellan Holm," said Helga, quickly, "My father has told you about him?"
"Yes," replied Hardy; "but I do not wish you to tell me any more about him, and to prevent your thoughts being occupied by the Kapellan, would you like to drive a few miles?"
"Gladly," replied Helga, using the pretty Danish phrase that so well expressed her meaning.
She insisted on taking off her gloves to drive, and said she could not feel the reins so well, and disliked wearing gloves in hot weather.
Hardy showed her how to hold the reins so as to feel the horses' mouth slightly. She appeared to like to hear the quick sound of the horses trotting.
"How easily they go! There is no difficulty in slackening or quickening their speed, and they obey the least touch on the rein," said Helga.
"We have been training them for my mother to drive, and Garth drives well," said Hardy.
"I should so like to learn to ride!" said Helga, carried away by her admiration of the horses.
"That is what I once offered to teach you," said Hardy, "and you replied in the negative so decidedly that I did not like to refer to the subject afterwards."
"Yes; Kirstin said it was not womanly to ride, and that I was not a Bondetøs" (a peasant girl), replied Helga. "But I do not see that it is different in that respect to driving a horse in a carriage, and if horses are kept, I think that it is useful to be able to ride them. There was also another reason why I did not wish you to teach me to ride, that I cannot tell you."
"Then do not tell me," said Hardy. "But supposing I am at Rosendal, in May, next year, will there be any objection then, if your father has none?"
"No," said Helga, involuntarily.
"Then I will recollect to bring over an English lady's saddle," said Hardy.
The Pastor, overcome with his walk, his breakfast, and the warmth of the day, had fallen asleep, and woke up to the situation that his daughter was driving the carriage.
"Stop!" he cried; "you will upset the carriage, Helga. You must not drive; you will throw down the horses."
"She has driven for the last ten miles, Herr Pastor," said Hardy.
The worthy Pastor, however, was so decided, that Hardy had to take the reins and drive into Horsens. He had telegraphed and ordered dinner at six, and drove into the hotel yard, but was scarcely prepared to find so many people collected there. They had simply come to see Buffalo, whose reputation hadrisen after the horse-race. They smoked, spat, criticized, and praised. "Sikken en Hest."
As they came in, Hardy gave a very necessary order to his servant, Robert Garth, namely, to get the horses' feet well washed, as the roads are so sandy.
The dinner was well served, and much praised by Pastor Lindal, who of course had a legend to relate, of Holger Danske, whose sword was buried with him near Horsens. The sword was so heavy that, when it was taken from the Kæmpehøi, or tumulus, twelve horses could not draw it. The walls of the house in which it was placed shook, and so much unhappiness occurred that the sword was restored to its resting place in the tumulus, and on its return journey two horses could draw it easily. Holger Danske was so big a man, that when he had a suit of clothes made, the tailors were obliged to use ladders to take his measure; but one day an unfortunate tailor tickled him in the ear with his scissors, and Holger Danske thought it was a flea, and squeezed him to death between his fingers."
"There were giants in those days," said Hardy.
"There is in the Kloster (cloister) Church at Horsens a hole in the wall, across which is an iron cross. Behind this a nun was walled up alive. She had, it was said, been confined of a dog. There is a stone in which a dog is figured, to preserve the recollection of so very extraordinary a circumstance, and a place is shown where her fingers marked the stone of the wall in her last agony."
"The practice of walling people up," said Hardy, "was very general in Denmark, was it not?"
"Yes, if tradition be true," said the Pastor, "which, as you know, we must receivecum grano salis. There is a story of a man walling up his woman-servant, because she cooked a cat for his dinner. He had caught a hare, but a dog had stolen it, so she cooked a cat instead. This enraged her master, and he walled her up alive."
"Thank you, Herr Pastor, for your legends," said Hardy; "but I should like to walk through the little town, and I dare say Karl and Axel would too, if we may leave you and Frøken Helga."
"By all means," said the Pastor, "and Helga will go too."
"No, little father, I will stay with you," said Helga. "You will have no one to fill your pipe, and will feel lonely."
As John Hardy went out, he gave Karl and Axel some money. The boys asked what it was for.
"To buy anything you like, as far it will go," said Hardy.
The boys, however, would not take it; they were sure their father would not wish it, after the expense Hardy had already been put to on their account.
"Your father would be quite right," said Hardy; but he recollected it, and this small circumstance, told him that Karl could be trusted, and assisted him more to get Karl a situation of trust than Hardy's influence and that of his friends.
"Viator.—Methinks the way is mended since I had the good fortune to fall into your good company."—The Complete Angler.
Horsens was explored the next day, but Hardy had a purpose in view. He knew his mother would like to see photographs of his Danish friends. The chief reason for a walk the night before was to ascertain the photographer's shop. This he discovered, and proposed that they should all be separately photographed.
"You want to show your mother our photographs," said Helga.
"I do," said Hardy. "You have all been so kind to me that it would interest her."
"I should like to see the photographs before they are sent you," said Helga.
"That you can," said Hardy. "They shall be sent you, and if you do not like them, do not send them to me."
"Nonsense," said the Pastor; "they shall of course be sent you. I can understand that if you have a photograph it will describe more than any description,and we will send them, or rather the photographer shall; it is not that we should wish to appear other than as we really are. If the photographs are not what is called successful, you can explain that, if you like, but I, for my part, would rather not be favoured by any artificial process."
"You are right, little father," said Helga; and they were all photographed separately, except Hardy and Karl, as the Pastor objected to the latter. "They will see Karl himself, and there is no need of the expense," he said; "and Hardy we shall not forget."
They left Horsens a little after midday for Veile, a distance, as before stated, of about nineteen English miles. Pastor Lindal sat by Hardy as he drove, and as they passed by Engom, he told the story of how Øve Lunge had sold himself to the evil one, "Øve Lunge made a bargain with the owners of the land near to acquire as much land as he could ride a foal just born round, whilst the priest was preaching a sermon in the pulpit at Engom Church. They assented readily; but the foal ridden by Herr Øve Lunge went like a bird, and two black boars followed, rooting up the line the foal took, so as to enclose the land. On his way, Herr Øve Lunge met a Bonde with an axe, and he was obliged to turn aside, as the evil one has no power against an edge of steel. Therefore there were many irregularities in the foal's course. The Bonde who had thus sought to interrupt Herr Øve Lunge, rushed to the church at Engom, and besoughtthe priest to vacate the pulpit, who did so, and thus saved much land passing into Herr Øve Lunge's possession. As Herr Øve Lunge had sold himself to the evil one, he can of course find no rest, and his ghost is seen, followed by his hounds, as he hunts at night over the property thus acquired."
"Are their many legends relating to Veile?" asked Hardy.
"A few," replied the Pastor, "and some historical, Gorm den Gamle, that is Gorm the old and his Queen Thyra, are buried in two tumuli, or Kæmpehøi, at Jellinge, near Veile. At Queen Thyra's tumulus there was once a spring of water which sprung up, it is related as evidence of her purity. One day, however, a Bonde washed a horse that had the glanders at the spring, when it at once dried up.
"At the same place, Jellinge (the final e is pronounced like a), in the year 1628, a priest called Søren Stefensen was suspected by the Swedes of being in correspondence with the Danes, when the Swedes were invading Jutland, and had occupied Jellinge, The messenger who went with his letters was taken, and a letter was found in a stick he carried. The Swedes hung him up to his own church door by his beard to a great hook, and he is said to have hung there a long time; but at last they took him down, and hung him on a gallows. He was priest at Veile, and the governor of the Latin school there, from 1614 to 1619."
"In Shakespeare's play of 'Hamlet'" said Hardy, "it is described of Hamlet's father that he smote the sledded Polaks on the ice."
"Our story of Amlet, not Hamlet, is as follows," said the Pastor. "At Mors, a place in Jutland, there was a king called Fegge. He had a tower at a place which is now called Fegge Klit ('klit' is a sand-hill), and from thence he sent his ships to sea, in the Western sea, that is your North sea. He and his brother Hvorvendil took turns to rule at land or at sea, so that one should be at sea three years, and the other on land three years. Fegge, however, became jealous of Hvorvendil's power and good luck, and killed him and married his wife, which murder was avenged by Amlet, her son, who slew Fegge, whose grave is yet shown at Fegge Klit. The word 'sledded,' is bad Danish for driving in a sledge. Polak is a Pole, and near Veile they committed great atrocities. They killed women and children, and stole the Bønder's cattle; and a man had often to buy his own bullock, and the price went down to such a degree that the price at last reached about 2d, (English) for a cow. They were hired by the Swedes to plunder Denmark. They came to a Præstegaard, near Veile, and stole and plundered; but a man in the priest's service, called Hans Nielsen, told the priest's wife to give them all the drink she could. They all got drunk. Hans Nielsen took away their arms. He then bound them one by one,and made one of them shoot all the rest, one after the other. This man confessed he was a Dane, but had joined the Swedes. So Hans Nielsen killed him with a sword, for being a traitor. The Poles were all buried in a hole, which is now called Polakhullet, or the Pole's hole. They committed such devastation in the very district we are now passing, that a man from Thy met a woman from Skaane, in Sweden, and she at once offered to marry him in the dialect of the time.