CHAPTER VIIDOWNby the fjord lay a little one-storeyed house, half hidden by large trees within a garden. Here lived Fru Thora Skard, the widow of the inspector of forests. Upon the death of her husband she had withdrawn from the social life to which she was accustomed, and henceforth lived quietly behind her flowers in her pretty little rooms. On rare occasions she might be seen going out to some sick or poor person with a book and a basket. Although she was more than forty, she was still young in mind; it was she who had started the young people’s club in the parish. Any young peasant girl who wished it, was certain of obtaining from her free instruction in sewing and weaving. She had a little boy called Gunnar. Being a sincere admirer of everything national, she had her little house, after her husband’s death, renamed and registered as “Lidarende”; and from that time forward she liked to be called Thora of Lidarende.When she heard the news about Wangen she thought: “Poor wife! Poor children!” She knew Fru Wangen very well, and she was so upset aboutthis, that she could think of nothing else. Although she had only a small pension, and was trying moreover to put something by for Gunnar, her kind heart said over and over again: “I must go and help them. Three children, the parents destitute, and then this crime! It would be wrong of me not to go.”There were such different opinions about Wangen’s guilt and innocence. Fru Thora was sufficiently well acquainted with her fellow creatures to know that most of them believed Wangen to be guilty because he had already gone down in the world. She wanted to form her own opinion about the matter, uninfluenced by others, and therefore meditated deeply upon the matter, reasoning from her knowledge of the two men. For one of them must be in the wrong.It happened that Norby realised in himself and his belongings some of the ideals that Fru Thora of Lidarende cherished. She had always thought there was something particularly Norwegian about Norby. The broad, strongly-built farmer, living in his large house and ruling over his labourers, was like a direct descendant of the old kings. In the store-house at Norby she knew there lay a quantity of old harness, drinking-bowls, sledges, and carved household articles, and she had speculated as to how to get hold of them for a country museum. Without her noticing it, or being able to prevent it, the impression from these things enteredinto her valuation of Norby in this particular case. And Wangen? He was the son of that magistrate who was noted for his animosity towards the peasant, and yet was not too refined himself to misappropriate public money; and now, whenever Fru Thora thought of the son, it was as though the atmosphere of the father surrounded him. Norby and Wangen opposing one another? Could there be any doubt in such a case?It was thus that Thora of Lidarende’s opinion on this matter was formed, and when once it was there, she felt no doubt at all about the matter, omitting to inquire into the origin of the opinion.She did not, however, grow to dislike or scorn Wangen on account of this crime. On the contrary she felt it was just now he was to be pitied, just now he needed help. “You must not shirk your duty,” her kind heart said to her every day; and she had no peace until she had made up her mind to offer to take one of the children.She wanted, moreover, to set the parish an example in not condemning too severely one who has given way to temptation; and on the day when she fought her way in a snow-storm along the fjord to call on Fru Wangen, she felt light-hearted, notwithstanding the cold and wind, in the thought that even this sad affair could afford her an opportunity of doing good.When she reached the Wangens’ house, she was told by the maid that her mistress had been confined;but as this was the fifth day, Fru Thora was allowed to go in to her.Fru Thora could scarcely restrain her tears at sight of this unfortunate woman, who had thrown herself away upon such a man; and when she bent over the bed, and Fru Wangen threw her arms about her neck, they both sobbed aloud.They talked together for a long time before Fru Thora broached the subject of her errand; but although she chose her words carefully, Fru Wangen seemed offended, and curtly declined her offer. And when Fru Thora went away she had an unhappy feeling of having done something utterly wrong.When she was gone, Wangen went in to his wife, and when he had heard Fru Thora’s errand, stood silent with a peculiar smile upon his face.“Oh, indeed!” he said at last. “They’re beginning to want to take our children from us too now, are they?”“But Henry, don’t you really think she meant it kindly?”He laughed. “Yes, of course! Why they mean everything kindly.”A little while after he said: “I suppose they understand that as long as I have my family about me I have a kind of backbone. But,” he continued, going up to the window, “that she too——”He stood watching the energetic little woman struggling down the road against a wind that almostblew her away. He could really see now that her errand had been one of which she was ashamed.But she had come to the house trying to coax his wife to give up the child when he was not there, and when the mother lay helpless in bed. He suddenly clenched his hands in fierce anger as he looked after her. How she struggled against the wind! How her shawl fluttered! A shiver ran down his back as it struck him that she resembled a bat, and he thought of witches.“Henry!” came from the bed. And when he turned, his wife stretched out her arms towards him.He bent down, and when he felt her arms about his neck, sank upon his knees. “Henry!” she said, stroking the back of his head; “Henry! You mustn’t think that any of us will forsake you!”He could not answer, but took her head between his hands and kissed her forehead.“Poor Henry!” she said again. “I never thought people could be so unkind.”When at last he rose, he said in a kind of exalted indignation: “I’ll pay them out for this!”
DOWNby the fjord lay a little one-storeyed house, half hidden by large trees within a garden. Here lived Fru Thora Skard, the widow of the inspector of forests. Upon the death of her husband she had withdrawn from the social life to which she was accustomed, and henceforth lived quietly behind her flowers in her pretty little rooms. On rare occasions she might be seen going out to some sick or poor person with a book and a basket. Although she was more than forty, she was still young in mind; it was she who had started the young people’s club in the parish. Any young peasant girl who wished it, was certain of obtaining from her free instruction in sewing and weaving. She had a little boy called Gunnar. Being a sincere admirer of everything national, she had her little house, after her husband’s death, renamed and registered as “Lidarende”; and from that time forward she liked to be called Thora of Lidarende.
When she heard the news about Wangen she thought: “Poor wife! Poor children!” She knew Fru Wangen very well, and she was so upset aboutthis, that she could think of nothing else. Although she had only a small pension, and was trying moreover to put something by for Gunnar, her kind heart said over and over again: “I must go and help them. Three children, the parents destitute, and then this crime! It would be wrong of me not to go.”
There were such different opinions about Wangen’s guilt and innocence. Fru Thora was sufficiently well acquainted with her fellow creatures to know that most of them believed Wangen to be guilty because he had already gone down in the world. She wanted to form her own opinion about the matter, uninfluenced by others, and therefore meditated deeply upon the matter, reasoning from her knowledge of the two men. For one of them must be in the wrong.
It happened that Norby realised in himself and his belongings some of the ideals that Fru Thora of Lidarende cherished. She had always thought there was something particularly Norwegian about Norby. The broad, strongly-built farmer, living in his large house and ruling over his labourers, was like a direct descendant of the old kings. In the store-house at Norby she knew there lay a quantity of old harness, drinking-bowls, sledges, and carved household articles, and she had speculated as to how to get hold of them for a country museum. Without her noticing it, or being able to prevent it, the impression from these things enteredinto her valuation of Norby in this particular case. And Wangen? He was the son of that magistrate who was noted for his animosity towards the peasant, and yet was not too refined himself to misappropriate public money; and now, whenever Fru Thora thought of the son, it was as though the atmosphere of the father surrounded him. Norby and Wangen opposing one another? Could there be any doubt in such a case?
It was thus that Thora of Lidarende’s opinion on this matter was formed, and when once it was there, she felt no doubt at all about the matter, omitting to inquire into the origin of the opinion.
She did not, however, grow to dislike or scorn Wangen on account of this crime. On the contrary she felt it was just now he was to be pitied, just now he needed help. “You must not shirk your duty,” her kind heart said to her every day; and she had no peace until she had made up her mind to offer to take one of the children.
She wanted, moreover, to set the parish an example in not condemning too severely one who has given way to temptation; and on the day when she fought her way in a snow-storm along the fjord to call on Fru Wangen, she felt light-hearted, notwithstanding the cold and wind, in the thought that even this sad affair could afford her an opportunity of doing good.
When she reached the Wangens’ house, she was told by the maid that her mistress had been confined;but as this was the fifth day, Fru Thora was allowed to go in to her.
Fru Thora could scarcely restrain her tears at sight of this unfortunate woman, who had thrown herself away upon such a man; and when she bent over the bed, and Fru Wangen threw her arms about her neck, they both sobbed aloud.
They talked together for a long time before Fru Thora broached the subject of her errand; but although she chose her words carefully, Fru Wangen seemed offended, and curtly declined her offer. And when Fru Thora went away she had an unhappy feeling of having done something utterly wrong.
When she was gone, Wangen went in to his wife, and when he had heard Fru Thora’s errand, stood silent with a peculiar smile upon his face.
“Oh, indeed!” he said at last. “They’re beginning to want to take our children from us too now, are they?”
“But Henry, don’t you really think she meant it kindly?”
He laughed. “Yes, of course! Why they mean everything kindly.”
A little while after he said: “I suppose they understand that as long as I have my family about me I have a kind of backbone. But,” he continued, going up to the window, “that she too——”
He stood watching the energetic little woman struggling down the road against a wind that almostblew her away. He could really see now that her errand had been one of which she was ashamed.
But she had come to the house trying to coax his wife to give up the child when he was not there, and when the mother lay helpless in bed. He suddenly clenched his hands in fierce anger as he looked after her. How she struggled against the wind! How her shawl fluttered! A shiver ran down his back as it struck him that she resembled a bat, and he thought of witches.
“Henry!” came from the bed. And when he turned, his wife stretched out her arms towards him.
He bent down, and when he felt her arms about his neck, sank upon his knees. “Henry!” she said, stroking the back of his head; “Henry! You mustn’t think that any of us will forsake you!”
He could not answer, but took her head between his hands and kissed her forehead.
“Poor Henry!” she said again. “I never thought people could be so unkind.”
When at last he rose, he said in a kind of exalted indignation: “I’ll pay them out for this!”