Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
Then they laughed, and came forward with a basket, and set the table on the stone here. And they had something to drink, and some little cakes, and after that they went away again. And now," concluded Ole, "I think that we also need something to eat. Let us sit here at the king's table and have our lunch, too."
They took their lunch bags from their backs and sat down on the big, thick stone table, while the animals lay around them chewing the cud. When the bags were opened many good things came out. There was butter, and pork, and pease bread, and, in Lisbeth's, cream waffles besides. In each bag there was also a bottle of milk, except in Ole's—he had forgotten his. But that did not matter, for the others had plenty. They shared their food with each other, and when Ole wanted milk he merely sang,
Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
Oh, have you a drop in your bottle?
And so he got rather more than his share, after all.
They did not talk much at the beginning of the meal, for it was so good to get a chance to eat; but when they had eaten quite a while, and their jaws began to work more slowly, Peter said, as if he had been pondering upon it, "I wonder what the king has to eat,—for every day, I mean."
"Loppered-cream16porridge, all day long," said Ole with conviction.
"Yes; but when he wants a little solid food, once in a while?" asked Lisbeth.
Peter had just put a very delicious piece of pork on some pease bread. He looked at it with real enjoyment before eating it.
"I am sure that he has pork and pease bread," said he.
Lisbeth took the last waffle and bit a piece off. Then she said, "Yes; but the queen,—she certainly does not eat anything but cream waffles!"
While they sat there on the stone, eating and talking, they saw a figure far off on the mountain. It was coming in the direction of Glory Peak. So unusual is it to meet another person up on the mountain that it gives one a strange feeling when it happens. Soon they could think of nothing except this stranger.
"It must be a man trying to find his horses," said Ole.
"Yes, it must be, surely," said Peter. "But what farmer could be sending up for his horses now?"
"Let me see,—it must be Nordrum."
"Yes, that is true. They have only Old Blakken17at home now, and they will have to begin their haymaking soon."
"Yes; but this man is going on a wild-goose chase to-day. The Nordrum mare is over on the other side of our sæter. I saw her a fortnight ago."
"If we set him right he can find her to-morrow."
"Yes, easily."
They sat still and watched, for they knew it would be a long time before the figure could reach them. It is so strange to watch any one coming toward you on the mountain. He walks and walks, and it can be seen from his motions that he is walking quickly, too, but he does not appear to be getting the least bit nearer. He continues to seem small and far away, and to increase very slowly in size, because the distances from point to point are so great.
The animals had risen and had begun to descend the peak in the direction of the sæter; but they concluded to lie down again and await the stranger's approach.
At last he reached them.
They had guessed aright. He was walking about trying to find the Nordrum horses. The boys told him what they knew, and said that although he could not get them that day, he could the next day, surely.
When the question of the horses was settled the man turned to Lisbeth.
"Isn't it you who are called Lisbeth Longfrock?"
"Yes," answered Lisbeth, "they do call me that."
"Then I bring you a greeting from Jacob, your brother. I have a letter with me from him. He wants me to bring him an answer, but there is no hurry about it until to-morrow. I shall spend the night at Hoel Sæter, whether I find the horses to-day or not. But now I must look around a little before evening comes on. I want to be sure that the horses are not on this side of the sæter." So off he went.
Lisbeth was still sitting on the king's table. It was the first time she had ever received a letter. Indeed, even Ole and Peter had never received any. They were entirely overwhelmed with respectful surprise and took their stand at a suitable distance.
On the outside of the letter stood:
Salve Titel.18To the Highly Respected Maiden,Lisbeth Jacob's-daughter Longfrock,at Hoel Sæter, on the West Mountain.At Convenience, by Messenger.Post Free.
Salve Titel.18To the Highly Respected Maiden,Lisbeth Jacob's-daughter Longfrock,at Hoel Sæter, on the West Mountain.
At Convenience, by Messenger.
Post Free.
Lisbeth broke the seal solemnly and opened the letter. Then she read, half aloud:
Nordrum Sæter, 15th of this month.Salve Titel.To the Maiden Lisbeth Longfrock.Good Sister:Since time and opportunity permit, I now take my pen in hand to write to you and tell you that I have nothing to write about except that it is a long time since I last saw you. But I have a spare day due to me from Hans. I took care of his animals for him when he went to his mother's burial. It was really two days, but I only reckoned it as one, because it was his mother. And now I will take that day from him on the next Sunday of this month. In case you have a day due to you from Peter or Ole, I write to ask if you cannot take it from them. But if you have not, you can take a day, all the same, because I am stronger; but I did not mean anything by it when I gave Peter a thrashing last winter. So I wanted to write to you and ask if we could not meet at Peerout Castle, for I have not been there since—You are requested to come to the meeting in good season. Bring something to eat with you.With much regard,Respectfully,Jacob Jacob's-son Nordrum, Esq.P.S. Please answer.
Nordrum Sæter, 15th of this month.
Salve Titel.
To the Maiden Lisbeth Longfrock.
Good Sister:Since time and opportunity permit, I now take my pen in hand to write to you and tell you that I have nothing to write about except that it is a long time since I last saw you. But I have a spare day due to me from Hans. I took care of his animals for him when he went to his mother's burial. It was really two days, but I only reckoned it as one, because it was his mother. And now I will take that day from him on the next Sunday of this month. In case you have a day due to you from Peter or Ole, I write to ask if you cannot take it from them. But if you have not, you can take a day, all the same, because I am stronger; but I did not mean anything by it when I gave Peter a thrashing last winter. So I wanted to write to you and ask if we could not meet at Peerout Castle, for I have not been there since—
You are requested to come to the meeting in good season. Bring something to eat with you.
With much regard,
Respectfully,
Jacob Jacob's-son Nordrum, Esq.
P.S. Please answer.
That evening Lisbeth Longfrock sat with her tongue thrust into one corner of her mouth, and wrote her response.
Hoel's Sæter, 17th of this month.To Bachelor Jacob Jacob's-son Nordrum.Good Brother:I will now write a few words to you, and thank you for your welcome letter which I have duly received. I am glad to see that you are in good health. The same can be said of me, except for toothache. But I will gladly come, and the milkmaid says I may be away over night, because it is too far. And so Ole and Peter can each have a day from me. For I have not had any day from them. They wrestle almost all the time, but Peter is nearly as strong.I must now close my poor letter to you, with many greetings from them. But first and foremost are you greeted by me.Your affectionate sister,Lisbeth Jacob's-daughter Longfrock.P.S. Excuse the writing. Burn this letter, dear.
Hoel's Sæter, 17th of this month.
To Bachelor Jacob Jacob's-son Nordrum.
Good Brother:I will now write a few words to you, and thank you for your welcome letter which I have duly received. I am glad to see that you are in good health. The same can be said of me, except for toothache. But I will gladly come, and the milkmaid says I may be away over night, because it is too far. And so Ole and Peter can each have a day from me. For I have not had any day from them. They wrestle almost all the time, but Peter is nearly as strong.
I must now close my poor letter to you, with many greetings from them. But first and foremost are you greeted by me.
Your affectionate sister,
Lisbeth Jacob's-daughter Longfrock.
P.S. Excuse the writing. Burn this letter, dear.
CHAPTER IX
THE VISIT TO PEEROUT CASTLE
Late on Saturday evening Lisbeth Longfrock went jogging slowly up over the hilly road to Hoel Farm. The milkmaid had given her leave to go to the farm and to stay away until Monday evening.
She had risen early that day, for she would not think of such a thing as leaving the sæter before she had done her morning chores, and milked the goats, and let out the cows. And she had had to do this very early, not only because she was in a hurry to get away, but also because she knew that Ole would not oversleep himself after having insisted so strongly that he should take care of her flock the first day. She had barely finished when Ole came. Peter was not with him; but she had had a talk with Peter the evening before, and he was quite as well pleased to take her flock on Sunday by himself, and then on Monday he and Ole could watch all the flocks together.
Ole had been very modest and ceremonious with Lisbeth as he bade her good-by. He had shaken hands and asked her to greet Jacob from him, and to say that he, Ole Hœgseth, would not keep close account of these days Lisbeth was taking, since Jacob really needed to speak with his sister. He did not know, of course, that Peter had said the very same thing the evening before.
And then she had given her animals over to Ole's care and had begun her long walk down the mountain. She walked and she walked, hour after hour. She had now gone over this sæter road several times, but had never before noticed that it was so long as it seemed to-day. She rested by a brook, took out her lunch, ate it and drank some water with it, and then set out again. In order to forget how slowly time was passing, she began to count her steps, first by tens and then by hundreds, and each time she had finished counting, she looked back to see how far she had walked; but this did not avail in the least, so she made up her mind to count to a thousand. When she had counted almost up to a thousand, she could not remember whether it was eight or nine hundred she had had last, so she counted four hundred more in order to be altogether certain that she had counted enough.
But even that did not make the time pass any more quickly, and she did not reach the point where she could look down into the valley until the sun was setting. The shadow had begun to creep up on the opposite side. Above the dark shadow line the slope was still bathed in the rosy evening sunlight, but the shadow steadily ate its way upward.
Then Lisbeth forgot to count her steps any more. What fun it would be to try to reach the sunshine again before the shadow had passed Hoel, which lay shining so brightly up there!
She went down the long slope on a run; but, run as fast as she might, it took time, and when she had reached the bottom of the valley and started up the hilly road on the other side, the sun had gone down. She could only catch its last gleam through the tops of the spruce trees, and a last tiny reflection as it left the window of Peerout Castle.
She stopped to get her breath after running. It was so still and warm and close down there in the valley,—so different from what it had been up on the mountain. It seemed as if the earth sent out a deep breath the moment the sun went down,—a strange, heavy fragrance that made her, all at once, feel anxious and downhearted, just as if she had done something wrong which she could not remember. Then it came into her mind that she ought to have sent word to Kjersti Hoel that she was coming. People in the valley were always afraid that something was the matter when a person came from the sæter unexpectedly; and it would be too shameful for any one to give Kjersti Hoel a fright.
That was the reason she was now jogging so slowly up over the hilly road leading to Hoel Farm. She was in hopes that some one would catch sight of her, or that at least Bearhunter would give warning of her approach; for then they would see that she was not coming in haste, and that she therefore could not be bringing any bad news.
But no one caught sight of her, and no one was stirring on the farm; so she would have to go right in, after all.
Yes, Kjersti Hoel was really startled when she saw her. Lisbeth had no time to offer a greeting before Kjersti said: "What in the world! Is this a mountain bird that has taken flight? There is nothing the matter at the sæter, is there?"
Lisbeth made haste to answer: "Oh, no, indeed! I was to greet you from the milkmaid and say that you must not be frightened at seeing me, for everything is going very well with both man and beast. I have only come down to make a visit and meet Jacob, my brother."
"God be praised!" said Kjersti. "And now you are heartily welcome."
At these words all Lisbeth's downheartedness vanished, and she felt only how festive and cozy it was to be at home again. And Kjersti was in the best of humors. She gave Lisbeth something good to eat, and treated her with as much ceremony as if she had been the milkmaid herself. When the time came for Lisbeth to go to bed, Kjersti went with her all the way to the little sleeping room under the hall stairs, which looked just as neat and orderly as when she had left it. And Kjersti sat on the edge of the bed and asked after every single one of the animals,—she remembered them all. And Lisbeth told about everything. There was only one provoking thing that she shrank from confessing (it might as well be acknowledged first as last, however, for it was sure to come out sometime), and that was her mistake in naming one of the calves. She had called it Young Moolley,19but the name had proved not at all suitable, for the calf's horns had begun to grow, although Lisbeth had done her best to prevent it by strewing salt upon them.
The next day was Sunday, and Lisbeth thought it certainly began well when no less a person than Kjersti Hoel herself came out into the little hall room carrying a big tray with coffee and cakes on it, for Lisbeth to indulge in as she lay in bed. Such grandeur as that Lisbeth had never before experienced. She scarcely believed that such a thing had ever happened to the milkmaid herself. And what was more, when she hopped into her long frock Kjersti said that she must hurry up and grow, for there would be a new dress for her as soon as this one had crept up to her knees. And although Lisbeth had not said a word about where she was going to meet Jacob, it seemed just as if Kjersti knew that, too; for she made up a package with a remarkably fine lunch in it, and told Lisbeth that she must treat Jacob to some of it, because he would probably have to go back to Nordrum Sæter that evening and would not have time to come down to Hoel. But after the lunch was put up Kjersti did not seem to see any necessity for further haste. In fact, she thought that it would not be possible for Jacob to get to Peerout Castle very early, because he would have to come all the way from Nordrum Sæter that morning. So, finally, Lisbeth had to show Kjersti her letter and point out the place where it said, "You are requested to come to the meeting in good season." Then, of course, Kjersti understood that there was no time to spare.
Shortly afterward Lisbeth was on her way to Peerout Castle, Bearhunter following her up the road to where the slope of birch trees began; then he turned around and jogged home with the blandest and prettiest of Sunday curls in his tail.
The valley lay before her in its quiet Sunday-morning peace. No one was out on the road or in the fields. Here and there in the farmhouses across the valley could be seen a man leaning against the frame of the doorway, bareheaded, and in shirt sleeves as white as the driven snow. From all the chimneys smoke was slowly arising in the still air. Lisbeth looked involuntarily up at Peerout Castle. There everything appeared gray and desolate. No smoke ascended from its chimney; and the window eye that gazed out over the valley looked as if it was blind, for the sunlight did not shine upon it now. And that brought to mind a blind person whom Lisbeth had once seen and whose strange, empty eyes made her shiver. She felt just the same now, and her pace slackened. She did not wish to get to the house before Jacob did.
When she finally reached Peerout Castle the first thing she saw was the pine branches that had been nailed to the gateposts the last time she was there. They stood in their places still, but they were dry, and the pine needles had fallen off. She glanced hastily at the door of the house. Yes, the pine trees stood there, too, just the same, but a fresher twig had been stuck in the doorlatch,—some one had evidently been there since that last day. The path that led from the gate to the door and from there over to the cow house had vanished; grass covered it. The cow-house door had fallen off, and around the doorposts had grown up tall stinging nettles. No trace was to be seen of the foot of man or beast.
Lisbeth had rejoiced at the idea of coming back to her old home. It had never entered her mind that Peerout Castle could be anything but the pleasantest place in the whole world to come to. Now, on the contrary, she felt all at once very, very lonely, more lonely than when on the mountain or in the forest. She felt like one who, afraid of the dark, is obliged to walk in it; as if every step must be taken warily, that no creaking be heard.
Without realizing it she veered away from the castle and the cow house, feeling that she would rather go over to the big stone by the brook, where she and Jacob used to have their playthings. Perhaps it was not so desolate there.
When she came to the heather ridge she saw Jacob already sitting on the stone. At the sight of him Lisbeth felt as if there was life again in all the desolation. She was so happy that she was about to run toward him; but then she remembered that such behavior would not be suitable at a ceremonious meeting like this, and that really it was so long a time since she had seen Jacob that he was almost a stranger to her. When he saw her, he jumped down from the stone and began to brush his gray breeches with his hands and to set his cap straight,—he wore a cap with a visor now, and not a straw hat like hers. Both of them were as embarrassed as if they were entire strangers to each other, and they could not look each other in the eye while shaking hands. He made a heavy bob with his head, while she courtesied so low that her long frock drooped down to the ground. After that, each dropped the other's hand and they remained standing a long time, looking around. It was not easy to find something to say, although both had fancied that they had a great deal to talk about. At last Jacob thought of something. He looked about for quite a while longer, and then said, as if he had weighed the matter deliberately and thoroughly, "It is delightful weather to-day."
"Yes, really delightful."
"If it holds out a fortnight longer, it will not be bad weather for haying."
"No, it will not be at all bad."
"But we can scarcely expect that."
"Oh, no! scarcely."
Then there was silence again, for not much more could be said on that subject. Lisbeth stole a look at Jacob. She thought of saying something about his having grown so large; but then again it did not seem to her quite proper for her to speak first, he being the elder. The package of food caught her eye,—she could certainly begin to speak about that.
"Kjersti Hoel sent you her greetings, and bade me ask if you would not try to put up with the lunch she has sent to-day."
"Yes, thank you; but I have some with me, too."
"You must be hungry after your long walk."
"Yes, I can't say that I'm not."
"Then we will set the table here on the stone."
Little by little Lisbeth set out on the stone all the good things which Kjersti had put in the package; and then she said, as she had heard was the custom when one entertained strangers, "Be so good as to draw up your chair, Jacob."
And Jacob hesitated, also according to custom, and said, "Oh, thanks! but you should not put yourself to any trouble on my account."
They sat down. Ceremonious manners were kept up during the first part of the meal, and Lisbeth did not forget to say "please" whenever it was proper. But when Jacob had eaten one of Kjersti's pancakes (a large, very thin kind, spread with fresh butter or sweetmeats) and was just beginning on the second, he forgot that he was at a party, so to speak, and said quite naturally and with conviction, "That was a remarkably good pancake!"
"Yes, of course; it is from Hoel."
At that it was as if they suddenly knew each other again; as if it had been only yesterday that they had kneeled on the bench under the window and looked over the valley and made up their minds where they would like best to live when they went out to service; as if they had never been parted from each other. And an instant after they were in eager dispute about which was the better place to live at, Nordrum or Hoel. Agree upon that question they could not; but when Jacob's appetite had been more than satisfied he finally admitted that they were both fine places, each one in its own way, and that, at any rate, those two were the best in the whole valley.
And now there was no end to all they had to talk over together and to tell each other. Jacob told about Nordrum and the Nordrum Sæter and the goats there; and Lisbeth told about Ole and Peter, and gave Jacob their greetings. She had much to tell about them both, but Jacob thought it was queer that she had more to say about Ole than about Peter; for while Ole was a straight-forward fellow, it could not be denied that he was a bit of a boaster.
Then they talked about their future. Jacob was going to stay at Nordrum Farm until he was grown up, and perhaps longer. Nordrum had said that when Jacob was a grown man and married he could take Peerout Castle, with the right of buying it as soon as he was able. But Jacob thought that very likely Nordrum meant it only as a joke; and anyway it was a little early for him to be thinking about marriage. Nordrum was getting on in years, however; he would be sure to need a head man about the place by that time. Lisbeth said that she was going to stay at Hoel. She was as well off there as she could expect to be, for Kjersti was exceedingly kind to her. Lisbeth did not say anything about her ambition to become a milkmaid. Indeed, that goal was so far off that she did not dare to set her heart upon reaching it.
When they had talked thus freely for a while they began to look around and call to mind all the plays they used to play and all the places they used to frequent. There, right by the castle itself, they had had their cow house with its pine-cone animals—why, yonder lay the big bull even now! And there, on the other side of the heather ridge, had been their sæter, where they had driven their animals many times during the summer. And there on the hill Jacob had had his sawmill, that Lisbeth was never to touch; and farther down she had had her dairy, where he came and bought cheese in exchange for planks made out of carrots that he had sliced in his sawmill. Not a stone or a mound could be seen the whole way up to the stony raspberry patches on Big Hammer Mountain that did not have some memory connected with it.
The brother and sister now felt themselves much older than when they had lived at Peerout Castle. Lisbeth thought that Jacob had grown to be very large, and he secretly thought the same about her. It was therefore like holding a sort of festival for them to be visiting the scenes together and talking of their former life as of something long gone by, saying to each other now and then, "Do you remember?" What is talked of in that way assumes unwonted proportions and appears to be without flaw.
Thus they went about the whole day,—they had even been close up to Big Hammer itself,—and it was already late in the afternoon when they again drew near Peerout Castle. They did not seem to be in any haste to reach it. They lingered by brook and stone to say, "Do you remember?" often both at once and about the same thing. They chased each other in aimless fashion. Their chief idea seemed to be to think continually of something new to do, so that there should come no silent pause, and so that the time of getting back to the castle should be put off as long as possible. Neither of them had yet mentioned a single memory connected with the castle itself or with the cow house. They had not visited either of these places yet, and they had avoided all mention of their mother.
But now they knew that the time had come when these sad things could be avoided no longer. They dragged themselves slowly down over the last ridge, talking more rapidly and nervously, and with loud and forced laughter. Then suddenly their laughter ceased as if it had been cut straight across,—they had come out on the ridge just back of the cow house. They became very, very quiet, and stood awhile with heads cast down. Then they turned toward each other and their eyes met. It did not seem at all as if they had just been laughing,—their eyes were so strangely big and bright. While they stood looking at each other there came suddenly the "klunk" of a bell over from Svehaugen. At that Jacob shook his head, as if shaking himself free from something, and said in a most indifferent manner, "Do you think that is the Svehaugen bell we hear over there?"
Lisbeth answered as unconcernedly as she could, "Yes, it is; I remember it."
"What cow do you believe they have at Svehaugen now for their home milking?"
"We could go over there and see whether it is—Bliros."
That was the first time since her mother's death that Lisbeth had spoken Bliros's name aloud. But to do that was easier than to name her mother.
It was not long before Lisbeth and Jacob were on their way over to Svehaugen. They had gone round the castle and the cow house without going very near them,—it was not worth while to tread down the grass, Jacob said. As they had expected, they found Bliros at Svehaugen; she was standing close by the gate. And they really thought that she knew Lisbeth again. They petted her, and talked to her, and gave her waffles and pancakes. It was just as if they wanted to make amends for not having had courage to stir up the memories connected with their old home itself. Jacob's heart was so touched at the last that he promised to buy Bliros back and give her to Lisbeth as soon as he was grown up. At that Lisbeth could contain herself no longer. She put her arms around Bliros's neck, looked at her a long time, and said, "Do you believe, Jacob, that Bliros remembers mother?" And then she began to cry.
That question came upon Jacob so unexpectedly that at first he could say nothing. After a moment's struggle he, too, was crying; but he managed to declare with decision, "Yes; if she remembers any one, it certainly must be mother."
CHAPTER X
SUNDAY AT THE SÆTER
Five summers had passed away since Lisbeth Longfrock first went up on the mountain; and no one who had not seen her during those years could have guessed that she had grown into the tall girl sitting by herself one Sunday on the stone which, so far back as any herder could remember, had been called the Pancake Stone, and which lay hidden away in a distant and lonely part of the mountain. She had grown so tall that the long frock, now used as a petticoat, came above her knees, and she no longer wore the birch-bark hat and birch-bark shoes. On this special Sunday her Sunday kerchief was on her head, and she sat with a book in her lap; for in the winter she was to go to the priest to be prepared for confirmation and in the spring she was to be confirmed. The reading did not progress very rapidly. The book had sunk down into her lap, and her calm blue eyes, now grown so womanly and earnest, were roving from one to another of the dear familiar places about her. Her flock lay quietly around the stone, chewing the cud. Indian summer was near its close. The sky was high vaulted and the air clear and cool. As far as the eye could reach all things were sketched in sharpest outline. Hills and marshes already glowed in autumnal tints, for these make their triumphal entry on the mountains earlier than below. The sun shone tranquilly and, as it were, a little coolly also. Everything was very still. Not even the sound of a bell was heard, for the animals were taking their afternoon rest; and no movement was discernible except far, far away, where Lisbeth spied a falcon flapping out from Glory Peak.
Just as it was now had Lisbeth seen the mountain at the close of each summer all these years. It had become familiar and dear to her, and she thought to herself how unchanging it was through all its variableness, while so much else altered never to be the same again. For much had changed since she first sat on this same stone and looked out over this same landscape. Few of the animals she now took care of had belonged to her original flock; the oldest had gone out and new ones had come in. The unlucky Morskol (Mother's Moolley) was now a full-grown cow, with horns of more than usual beauty. The former milkmaid was gone and another had taken her place. Ole and Peter, with whom Lisbeth in earlier years had tended her flock almost daily, were her companions no longer. They had not been up at the sæter since they were confirmed,—two years ago. Ole had even sailed to America. Lisbeth had missed the boys very much, and had many a time been lonely during the last two summers, for no new herders had come from the Hœgseth or Lunde farms. At home, too, at the Hoel Farm, there had been changes among the people, and Bearhunter had become blind. Lisbeth herself no longer occupied her old place by the heap of firewood in the great kitchen on winter evenings, but sat beside Kjersti on the wooden carving bench; that is, she sat there when she did not have to study her catechism or learn her hymns to be ready for school the next day.
And now still further changes were in store for her. This was to be the last summer she would be sitting up here tending her flock. What would come next? Kjersti Hoel had not said anything to her about the future,—perhaps Kjersti would not want her any longer. But Lisbeth put these thoughts aside,—she would not allow her mind to dwell on such perplexing subjects when all was so delightfully peaceful and beautiful around her. Whatever her lot might be, or wherever she might go, of one thing she was certain,—she would never forget these mountain scenes nor this stone which had always been her favorite resting place, especially since she had been so much alone; and she gazed around her again.
As her eyes wandered about she caught sight of a man far off on the marsh, sauntering along in her direction, stopping once in a while and stooping down, apparently to pluck an occasional cloudberry, for they were now beginning to ripen. This sent her thoughts into another channel.
Who could it be coming over the marsh? Not a man looking for horses, for no one goes out for that purpose on Sunday; nor a cloudberry picker, for the berries were not yet ripe enough to pay for the trouble of seeking. Surely it was some one who had made the ascent of the mountain for pleasure only. What if it should be Jacob! She had not seen him since the last autumn, and he had said then that he would come up to see her this summer. Nevertheless the young man did not look like Jacob; and Jacob, not being very well acquainted on the western mountain, would not be trying to find the Pancake Stone. Yet this person was steering his course exactly toward where she sat, and it was plain that he knew the marsh thoroughly,—where the cloudberries grew, and where it was not so wet but that you could get across. It could not possibly be——? She blushed the instant she thought of the name, and at the same moment the stranger disappeared behind a hill, so that she saw no more of him for the time.
Involuntarily she tied her kerchief freshly under her chin, stroked her light hair under the edge of the kerchief, and smoothed out the folds in her skirt. Then, sitting with her back half turned to the quarter where he might be expected to appear, she took up her book and bent her head over it as if reading.
Shortly afterward a young man shot up over the hill behind her. He had on brand-new gray woolen clothes, a "bought" scarf around his neck, and top-boots outside his trousers. He was not tall, but his figure was well knit and manly. In his youthful face, on which the merest shadow of down could be distinguished, was set a pair of brown eyes, trusting and trustworthy. He stopped a moment and looked down at the open space where Lisbeth sat upon the stone with the flock of animals around her. It was evident that he had a memory of the scene,—that he had seen that picture before. Lisbeth did not look up, but she knew he was there,—felt in her back, so to speak, that he was standing there gazing at her. He smiled and then swung his course around so as to approach her from the side, and so that the animals might have time to become gently aware of his presence and not scramble up in a flurry. Silently he drew near to her, until at last his shadow fell upon her book. Then she looked up and their eyes met. At that both of them flushed a little, and he said hastily, "Good day, Lisbeth Longfrock."
"Good day. Why, is it you, Peter, out for a walk?"
They shook hands.
"Yes; I thought it would be pleasant to have a look at the old places again; and since Jacob was coming up to visit you, I made up my mind to keep him company."
"Is Jacob with you?"
"Yes, but he is waiting down at the sæter, for he was tired. We were out early to-day, and tomorrow we are to take home a pair of nags to Hœgseth Farm. He sent you his greeting and will see you this evening."
"Were you sure that you could find me?"
"Oh, yes! I knew just about where you would be in such weather. And, of course, it is more fun for me to ramble around here than for him, I being so familiar with the region."
He sat down beside her on the stone and gazed slowly around.
"Does it look natural here?"
"Yes, everything is unaltered. It seems only yesterday that I was here taking care of the Lunde flocks. But I hardly recognizedyouagain. You have grown so large."
"Do you think so?"
"Yes. But still it is two years since I last saw you."
There was a short pause. Then Peter continued: "I walked over Sloping Marsh, by our bathing pond. The water has all run out."
"Yes, it has."
"I wondered if it would not be a good plan for me to build the dam up again, so that you could use the pond."
"No, you need not do that, for I have my bathing place somewhere else,—a place that no one knows about."
"Oh, have you?"
"Yes; I had it the last year that you and Ole were here, too."
"So it was there you used to be on the days that you kept away from us?"
"Yes, sometimes."
The animals began to get up and stray off, thus attracting attention. Lisbeth made Peter look at the older goats to see if he recognized them, and she was glad to find that he did remember them all. Then she told him about the new ones; but soon that topic was exhausted and there was apparently nothing more to talk about. They still remained seated on the stone. Then Peter said, "You haven't that birch-bark hat any longer, have you, Lisbeth?"
"No; it was worn out long ago."
"But what is it you have on this string?"
He took hold carefully of a string she wore around her neck, and, pulling it, drew out from her bosom the little goat horn he had given her.
"I did not think you would have that horn still," said Peter.
A deep blush covered Lisbeth's face at the idea of appearing childish to Peter. She hastened to say, "Oh, yes; I carry it with me sometimes."
"I have mine, too. It is the only thing I have left from my herding days." And he drew one of Crookhorn's horns out of an inner pocket. "Shall we try them?"
Then they both laughed and played "The Old Woman with a Stick" together, as they had so often done in the old days. It did not sound as if either of them had forgotten it in the least. When the tune was finished there was another pause. At last Lisbeth said, "I must look after the animals a little now, or I shall lose track of them."
"Can't you let them go home alone to-night? It is time for them to seek the fold, and they will surely find the way safely. Then we can walk to the sæter more at our leisure."
"Yes, I will gladly. I can trust them to find their way home, I am sure."
Again there was silence for a time. Then Lisbeth rose, saying, "I think we must go now."
Peter did not stir. He merely said very quietly: "Can't you sit a little longer? There was something I wanted to ask you."
Lisbeth bowed her head and seated herself again without speaking.
"I have a greeting to you from Ole. I received a letter from him a fortnight ago. He asked me very particularly to give you his greetings."
"Thank you. Is all going well with him?"
"Yes, it seems so from his letter. He has a good place and earns large wages."
"Ole deserves it. He grew to be a fine fellow."
"Yes, he did. He asks me whether I will go to America in the spring. He will send me a ticket, if I will."
On hearing that Lisbeth looked up at Peter for an instant, then drooped her head again without saying a word. Peter continued: "It was that I wanted to ask you about. Do you wish me to go?"
A dead silence ensued, during which Peter sat looking inquiringly at her. For a long time she was motionless; then, suddenly lifting her head, she fastened her blue eyes upon him and said, "No, I donotwish you to go."
There was no more conversation on that subject, and soon they were on their way to the sæter. They went around by all the familiar, memorable places, including both the bathing pond and Pointing Stump; and all these places had so many reminders for them of the time when they watched their flocks together there, that more than once they said how much they pitied Ole, who would perhaps never be able to come to Norway again. The sky arched high and clear above them, the mountain stretched beyond them with its unending, silent wastes; and Lisbeth and Peter felt strangely buoyant and glad. Although they had made no agreement, they felt as if they had a hidden bond between them—as if they two had a wonderful secret that no one, not even Jacob, could share.
CHAPTER XI
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 sæter 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."