CHAPTER IIEINARNORBYstill kept his bed. He sat up among his pillows in the middle of the day, and each day a little longer than on the preceding one. As the days passed, he saw the last patch of snow melt away down in the yard, and heard the noise of wheels take the place of the sledge-bells’ jingle, and the starling making a noise in the gutter over his head. One day, too, he heard the sheep being let out with a great deal of bleating in deep and high tones, and little Knut shouting at them from the steps.To Einar this illness was a black darkness that separated him from something that had happened long ago, and about which he could not now think. As he emerged from this darkness, too, it struck him how comfortable he was lying there. He was a child once more, wrapped in the clothes his mother put upon him, and eating what she gave him with her own hand; he showed temper, and was exacting, and she scolded him; she washed him, and warmed his night-shirt for him at the stove, as in days gone by.A recovery from such an illness is like being borninto the world again. Worn out as one is, every little trouble brings the tears to one’s eyes, just as they make the baby scream; and waiting for mother when she is away too long is unbearable torture.As his strength returned, Einar noticed that his father never came to see him; and at the same time he understood that this was something he ought not to mention. It was also something that he ought not to think about; for there was so much besides that went with it, and that should not be allowed to come near him now.One day Ingeborg came up with some hot water in a bath, saying she thought it was about time he had his feet washed; and as he put out his clammy feet, and enjoyed the wet sponge and her gentle touch, the tears came again to his eyes. “Oh, how good it is to be at home now!” he thought.He remembered that during his first attacks of fever, he had felt horror at being tended by those whom he had betrayed; but that must have been part of the illness. During the feverish attacks, he had also seen Wangen standing in the room and saying: “I shall be sent to prison, and it is your fault.” And Einar had screamed with terror; but that too had been part of his illness, and he had now recovered from it. Yes, it was a strange thing to be ill.While his sister dried his feet with a warm bath-towel, he looked up at the ceiling, and thought: “Thank goodness that I was prevented from doing these people any harm!”As the days passed, and he gradually became able once more to retain difficult thoughts, he felt a certain fear as to how it would be when he went downstairs and met his father. He supposed he would have to ask his forgiveness; but that, too, caused him a strange pain. Thoughts came to him. “I have abandoned a sacred purpose; and just because I am lying here and receiving all this affection, I am becoming more and more powerless to take it up again. I was to save an innocent man from punishment, and I was to stand a test of character. But I broke down. I took flight! And now I am lying and thanking God for it!”“Mother!” he cried involuntarily; and if she were not in the room, he would be seized with an uncomfortable fear until she came back and he knew her to be near him.“How pale and thin you are, mother! How often you must have sat up at night!”“That’s nothing, my dear boy. How are you now? Is there anything you’ve a fancy for?”He felt these few affectionate words quite overwhelming, because they dispelled all fears, and for a time gave him perfect contentment and rest.Ingeborg came up one day with some budding birch-twigs which she threw upon his bed. “There’s a harbinger of spring,” she said. “Now you must be quick and come out, and see what I’m doing in the garden.”When at last he was allowed to sit up, his seatwas placed at the window. Girls were running bare-headed across the yard. They were laughing and joking. It made him smile too. He had had a lot of fun down there among the houses as a boy; there was a reminiscence connected with every corner, and these were now awakened, and all his ideas connected themselves more and more with the place and the people who lived in it.Ingeborg came to him rather timidly one day, and asked him to let her read to him out of a devotional book, and he assented in order to give her a pleasure. Gradually as he listened, however, he began to think it was beautiful. He had been mistaken in this too.One evening, when the reading was over, she said: “The lake is quite open now; the steamer ran to-day.” And Einar saw the great open lake, its surface of a greenish colour from the melting of the snow. Logs were drifting about here and there, and a bird was sitting upon a solitary piece of ice, and floating along with it, now and again flapping its wings. He saw the steamer with its awning, and ladies on board in light dresses. Heigh-ho! Summer was coming!“Do you know what father’s doing?” asked Ingeborg with a smile.“Father?” whispered Einar, turning his head towards the wall.“Yes. He’s having a little room put up for you at thesæter.The doctor wants you to be on the mountains this summer.”Einar turned his face to her and smiled suddenly like a naughty boy. Was his father really thinking about him and doing something for him too?“Father hasn’t come to see me,” he said after a little, sadly.Ingeborg sighed and gazed at the candle.“He asks after you a hundred times a day,” she said; “and when you were worst, he neither slept nor ate.”A little later she looked at Einar’s pale face among the pillows; and though his eyes were closed, the tears were forcing their way from under their lids, and his lips were compressed. She rose, and wiped the tears away with her pocket-handkerchief, saying: “I think it’s to spare you that father doesn’t come. And besides, you can hardly expect him to come as long as he doesn’t know what you think of him.”Einar’s lips were more tightly compressed, as if something hurt him.“Shall I ask father to come, Einar?”“Yes,” he whispered.Norby had said to his wife that there had been a disagreement between himself and Einar, and that he would not go in to see him until the boy was well enough to talk about the matter.He had gradually become quite sure that his enemies had incited the boy against him; but who could have been knowing enough for that? Einar! Yes, it was well done.But how anxiously he had waited to see whether Einar would send to him; for after the manner in which they had parted, he did not feel able to see him until he yielded. But would he yield? Should he get his boy back?What were his thoughts now when the moment came at last? He went slowly up the stairs, but had to hold tight to the banisters. When he entered the room, he saw at once how emaciated the boy was. The thin beard that had been allowed to grow while he was ill made him unrecognisable. Einar’s eyes were still wet, and he smiled anxiously as he held out his hand.Ingeborg had come up again with him, but slipped quietly out when she saw her father’s emotion; and the two were left alone. The old man’s lips were compressed as he seated himself and took his son’s outstretched hand. It was so damp and nerveless and thin that he was quite afraid to take hold of it. Einar saw his father’s emotion, and worn and excited as he was already, he burst into tears.“Forgive me, father!”The old man rose and arranged the coverlet better about his son.“Don’t talk about it!” he managed to say. “And you musn’t take this to heart now; it’s bad for you.”When, a little later, the old man once more stood alone in his office, he was sniffing as if he had a cold.“Heaven be praised!” he said, with his eyes raised to the ceiling. “Thank God that I have got my boy back again!”He sank upon the leather sofa, and sat staring in front of him, his lips trembling. Nothing so great had ever happened at Norby before. And so there was a higher purpose in this illness. He understood it now.“Thank God!” he said again, with his eyes raised to the ceiling.When a woman gets back her child that robbers have taken, one can understand that her joy is unbounded, but that her hatred of those who took him from her, her fear of their coming again, and her desire to render them harmless, are just as great as her happiness. It was the same with Norby now. In the midst of his joy he thought of Wangen. “They didn’t succeed,” he thought. “There’s One who’s stronger than all their artifices.” While he sat and thanked God in an indescribable feeling of happiness, he saw Wangen and his other enemies as evil forces that might come again; but they should really be made harmless now. “He shall leave the district!” he thought, in mingled anger and pleasure. “He’s done harm enough now. He shan’t only go to jail; he ought to be transported!” And if Norby’s best friend had now said to him: “But you have guaranteed for this same Wangen,” Norby would have knocked him down. For God knows it was false. Could the hands be clean of a manwho had recourse to such tricks? No, no, no! If a thought such as this crossed the old man’s mind, it filled him with disgust, and he felt he must spit it out. No, he was completely in the right. That devil actually declared that Norby had signed his document at the Grand! Good gracious!“I thank Thee, O God!—But he shall be turned out of the district!”
EINARNORBYstill kept his bed. He sat up among his pillows in the middle of the day, and each day a little longer than on the preceding one. As the days passed, he saw the last patch of snow melt away down in the yard, and heard the noise of wheels take the place of the sledge-bells’ jingle, and the starling making a noise in the gutter over his head. One day, too, he heard the sheep being let out with a great deal of bleating in deep and high tones, and little Knut shouting at them from the steps.
To Einar this illness was a black darkness that separated him from something that had happened long ago, and about which he could not now think. As he emerged from this darkness, too, it struck him how comfortable he was lying there. He was a child once more, wrapped in the clothes his mother put upon him, and eating what she gave him with her own hand; he showed temper, and was exacting, and she scolded him; she washed him, and warmed his night-shirt for him at the stove, as in days gone by.
A recovery from such an illness is like being borninto the world again. Worn out as one is, every little trouble brings the tears to one’s eyes, just as they make the baby scream; and waiting for mother when she is away too long is unbearable torture.
As his strength returned, Einar noticed that his father never came to see him; and at the same time he understood that this was something he ought not to mention. It was also something that he ought not to think about; for there was so much besides that went with it, and that should not be allowed to come near him now.
One day Ingeborg came up with some hot water in a bath, saying she thought it was about time he had his feet washed; and as he put out his clammy feet, and enjoyed the wet sponge and her gentle touch, the tears came again to his eyes. “Oh, how good it is to be at home now!” he thought.
He remembered that during his first attacks of fever, he had felt horror at being tended by those whom he had betrayed; but that must have been part of the illness. During the feverish attacks, he had also seen Wangen standing in the room and saying: “I shall be sent to prison, and it is your fault.” And Einar had screamed with terror; but that too had been part of his illness, and he had now recovered from it. Yes, it was a strange thing to be ill.
While his sister dried his feet with a warm bath-towel, he looked up at the ceiling, and thought: “Thank goodness that I was prevented from doing these people any harm!”
As the days passed, and he gradually became able once more to retain difficult thoughts, he felt a certain fear as to how it would be when he went downstairs and met his father. He supposed he would have to ask his forgiveness; but that, too, caused him a strange pain. Thoughts came to him. “I have abandoned a sacred purpose; and just because I am lying here and receiving all this affection, I am becoming more and more powerless to take it up again. I was to save an innocent man from punishment, and I was to stand a test of character. But I broke down. I took flight! And now I am lying and thanking God for it!”
“Mother!” he cried involuntarily; and if she were not in the room, he would be seized with an uncomfortable fear until she came back and he knew her to be near him.
“How pale and thin you are, mother! How often you must have sat up at night!”
“That’s nothing, my dear boy. How are you now? Is there anything you’ve a fancy for?”
He felt these few affectionate words quite overwhelming, because they dispelled all fears, and for a time gave him perfect contentment and rest.
Ingeborg came up one day with some budding birch-twigs which she threw upon his bed. “There’s a harbinger of spring,” she said. “Now you must be quick and come out, and see what I’m doing in the garden.”
When at last he was allowed to sit up, his seatwas placed at the window. Girls were running bare-headed across the yard. They were laughing and joking. It made him smile too. He had had a lot of fun down there among the houses as a boy; there was a reminiscence connected with every corner, and these were now awakened, and all his ideas connected themselves more and more with the place and the people who lived in it.
Ingeborg came to him rather timidly one day, and asked him to let her read to him out of a devotional book, and he assented in order to give her a pleasure. Gradually as he listened, however, he began to think it was beautiful. He had been mistaken in this too.
One evening, when the reading was over, she said: “The lake is quite open now; the steamer ran to-day.” And Einar saw the great open lake, its surface of a greenish colour from the melting of the snow. Logs were drifting about here and there, and a bird was sitting upon a solitary piece of ice, and floating along with it, now and again flapping its wings. He saw the steamer with its awning, and ladies on board in light dresses. Heigh-ho! Summer was coming!
“Do you know what father’s doing?” asked Ingeborg with a smile.
“Father?” whispered Einar, turning his head towards the wall.
“Yes. He’s having a little room put up for you at thesæter.The doctor wants you to be on the mountains this summer.”
Einar turned his face to her and smiled suddenly like a naughty boy. Was his father really thinking about him and doing something for him too?
“Father hasn’t come to see me,” he said after a little, sadly.
Ingeborg sighed and gazed at the candle.
“He asks after you a hundred times a day,” she said; “and when you were worst, he neither slept nor ate.”
A little later she looked at Einar’s pale face among the pillows; and though his eyes were closed, the tears were forcing their way from under their lids, and his lips were compressed. She rose, and wiped the tears away with her pocket-handkerchief, saying: “I think it’s to spare you that father doesn’t come. And besides, you can hardly expect him to come as long as he doesn’t know what you think of him.”
Einar’s lips were more tightly compressed, as if something hurt him.
“Shall I ask father to come, Einar?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Norby had said to his wife that there had been a disagreement between himself and Einar, and that he would not go in to see him until the boy was well enough to talk about the matter.
He had gradually become quite sure that his enemies had incited the boy against him; but who could have been knowing enough for that? Einar! Yes, it was well done.
But how anxiously he had waited to see whether Einar would send to him; for after the manner in which they had parted, he did not feel able to see him until he yielded. But would he yield? Should he get his boy back?
What were his thoughts now when the moment came at last? He went slowly up the stairs, but had to hold tight to the banisters. When he entered the room, he saw at once how emaciated the boy was. The thin beard that had been allowed to grow while he was ill made him unrecognisable. Einar’s eyes were still wet, and he smiled anxiously as he held out his hand.
Ingeborg had come up again with him, but slipped quietly out when she saw her father’s emotion; and the two were left alone. The old man’s lips were compressed as he seated himself and took his son’s outstretched hand. It was so damp and nerveless and thin that he was quite afraid to take hold of it. Einar saw his father’s emotion, and worn and excited as he was already, he burst into tears.
“Forgive me, father!”
The old man rose and arranged the coverlet better about his son.
“Don’t talk about it!” he managed to say. “And you musn’t take this to heart now; it’s bad for you.”
When, a little later, the old man once more stood alone in his office, he was sniffing as if he had a cold.
“Heaven be praised!” he said, with his eyes raised to the ceiling. “Thank God that I have got my boy back again!”
He sank upon the leather sofa, and sat staring in front of him, his lips trembling. Nothing so great had ever happened at Norby before. And so there was a higher purpose in this illness. He understood it now.
“Thank God!” he said again, with his eyes raised to the ceiling.
When a woman gets back her child that robbers have taken, one can understand that her joy is unbounded, but that her hatred of those who took him from her, her fear of their coming again, and her desire to render them harmless, are just as great as her happiness. It was the same with Norby now. In the midst of his joy he thought of Wangen. “They didn’t succeed,” he thought. “There’s One who’s stronger than all their artifices.” While he sat and thanked God in an indescribable feeling of happiness, he saw Wangen and his other enemies as evil forces that might come again; but they should really be made harmless now. “He shall leave the district!” he thought, in mingled anger and pleasure. “He’s done harm enough now. He shan’t only go to jail; he ought to be transported!” And if Norby’s best friend had now said to him: “But you have guaranteed for this same Wangen,” Norby would have knocked him down. For God knows it was false. Could the hands be clean of a manwho had recourse to such tricks? No, no, no! If a thought such as this crossed the old man’s mind, it filled him with disgust, and he felt he must spit it out. No, he was completely in the right. That devil actually declared that Norby had signed his document at the Grand! Good gracious!
“I thank Thee, O God!—But he shall be turned out of the district!”