"Do you mean that I am to accompany you to the Zulus?" she asked, coldly.

"I mean that we should perfect ourselves together in all good works, dear Josephine, and that then G.o.d will direct our steps."

"I can't listen to idle talk," she answered; "say right out what you wish us to do!"

"We are to live amongst and for the poor, through faith in Jesus."

"Listen to me, Ole; I know how to do that better than you do. You have never watched at night by the sickbed of some poor person; I have often. And it is I who started the 'mutual a.s.sociation.'" (This was the name of an a.s.sociation consisting of some of the well-to-do women of the town, where every member bound themselves to provide work and help for their own special poor; Josephine was their leader, she distributed the work.)

"Yes," her husband a.s.sented, "you have administrative talent--like your brother. But living in luxury one's self, and now and then condescending to visit the poor, it is not that; no, one should live amongst and entirely for them."

"Shall we sell the house? Shall we move down to the poor part of the town? Tell me what your wishes are!"

"If G.o.d chooses us to do so, yes! But it must be done by and through faith, for Jesus' sake, Josephine, otherwise it is of no avail."

She answered not a word.

"What do you say to this, Josephine? Do you not wish us to try and lead a true Christian life?" his eyes were beseeching, his hand sought hers; "Josephine!"

She withdrew her hand. "No, you know, I cannot see why I should make my own life unpleasant; it would benefit no one, and only injure me."

"Do not say that! If only we could try! To believe in Jesus, and to live together only for the good of others."

"What nonsense! I can't help it, if it hurts your feelings; it is rubbish to say that one requires to believe in Jesus so as to help the poor. I don't care, I _will_ say what I think."

"If you believed in Jesus, you would understand the reason why."

"I never said I did not believe in Jesus."

"Ah, Josephine, this kind of faith is worthless! You can't even fathom what real faith is? I am answerable for this shortcoming of yours; I who live year out and year in with you, and have got no further!" He bent down toward her; there were tears in his eyes. "How happy we might be together if you would but humble yourself before G.o.d--you who have such strength--and whom I love so dearly." He tried to put his arm gently round her.

"Faugh!" she exclaimed, and sat up.

He jumped up as though he were stung. She sat with flaming eyes--soon laid down again, both arms under her head; her bosom heaved, she was much agitated. "I do not know whether G.o.d will permit us to continue living together under these circ.u.mstances," he said.

"No, do just as you choose."

He turned from her, for he thought it beneath him to answer. The little boy groaned in his sleep and tossed uneasily. Tuft looked at him; the little fellow lay with his arm under him and half-open mouth; Tuft knew the forehead well, it was his father's over again, and was like his own too, the hair, the shape of the little hands and fingers, even to the very nails. But the day might come when even the boy would no longer be his own, if this continued.

"No, Josephine, things shall not continue in this way. G.o.d help us both; the struggle shall not end thus."

Behind the excessive goodness of his heart, all the breadth and strength of his nature became evident; she felt this. It moved her deeply. She heard him wandering up and down in his study, restless, but with a set purpose. She could not sleep.

The day after Kristen Larssen had become aware of the nature of his disease, he committed suicide. It shocked people dreadfully; he haunted the place; hardly anyone dare pa.s.s the house. A rumor got abroad that Kallem had lent Larssen his revolver for this purpose; but it was put an end to by his wife, by Soren Pedersen, and by Kallem's own testimony.

Kristen Larssen had retired from this world without warning and without thanks. He had said to his wife that sudden death would be best. But neither had they come to any mutual agreement or reckoning, nor had they taken leave of each other. He had begged her to go and fetch Soren Pedersen, and whilst she was away, had crept out of bed and, with his usual cold-bloodedness, had done the deed.

The regular funeral rites were refused to him; a corner by the north wall was selected, and three men worked hard to get a grave dug. The funeral day was unusually cold; some there were who fancied they saw the finger of G.o.d in that too. At quite an unusual hour, namely in the afternoon, Kristen Larssen was lowered into his grave without the toll of a bell, without priest or psalm. The most remarkable among the few people who were present was Aune, for he was drunk and fussing about everywhere--so thinly clad that it made one shiver to look at the poor wretch, blue with cold. Soren Pedersen told him several times to keep quiet; but to no avail. The only visible part of Soren's shining face was his nose, eyes, and a bit of the cheeks; all the rest was covered by a huge woollen comforter, wound round and round, and by a fur cap drawn well down to the eyes; his great big hands were in a pair of huge woollen gloves, of the kind that fishermen use for rowing; and his feet were in fur boots. Soren Pedersen had grown rather stout, his greatcoat was somewhat too tight; he looked like a lobster with all these excrescences; Aase, in a little cloak and hood, kept by the side of the widow, who stood there tall and thin, in Laplander shoes and loose ample dress, as wide at the top as at the bottom; she wore a heavy woollen shawl over her head; she evidently wished to conceal her face.

Aune slouched round to tell her that he had been "to the station with her luggage." And now "he had shut up the house; he had the key in his pocket;" he took it out and showed it. The poor widow was to go direct from here to the station, and stay with some of her relations who lived at a few miles distance; and later, go on to her native town. Besides these four there were two of the s.e.xtons present; one of them stood with short coat and mittens, leaning on his spade, incessantly chewing tobacco; the other was almost covered by a brown beard, crook-backed, and dim-eyed.

There was a tightly packed snow-drift under the wall; Karl Meek and Ragni came along together and got up on to the snow-drift. They were all waiting for Kallem, who had been detained, but now came along at full speed. He took off his cap to the widow, and was greeted by the others as he went up to the grave. He wished to say a few words, but waited to see if nothing else would happen. As nothing did happen, he said:

"I am not acquainted with the past life of the man we are about to bury; neither did I know him well personally. He had different religious convictions to those of the people he lived amongst, and he has been punished for them. His and his wife's object in life was to be able to go to free America." (At the word America there was a general movement amongst the handkerchiefs.) "He tried to teach himself English; for him it would have been like getting wings.

"But having said this much, and when I add that he was the cleverest man I have met with here, I have said about all I know of him.

"Therefore I cannot join in judging him. I often had the impression, whilst we sat together, that he was always cold. The cold around him had chilled him to the bone.

"It so happens that only we five or six people are here to take a last farewell of him. Yet all those who benefited by his ingenious work, most particularly those whose life has been eased by his clever inventions, thereby affording them greater enjoyment--all those owe him thanks, which I am here to express."

A deep stillness ensued; one could hear the snow creak when anyone moved; but no one attempted to leave. At last Aune reeled forwards to the edge of the grave. "Well, at least I will thank you for the violin!

Oh--and the forgiveness of sins, oh, oh, fare thee well!"--within an ace he had fallen into the grave. In great disgust Soren Pedersen seized him by the arm, turned to his wife, and said: "Dearest Aase, you say the Lord's Prayer so beautifully; let us have it!" And she stepped forward, pulled off her mittens, and folded her hands. The men took off their caps and bowed their heads; and then Aase repeated the Lord's Prayer.

The first heavy lumps of earth were then thrown on to the coffin; it sounded as though it were being crushed.

Kristen Larssen's wife came up to Kallem. He could now observe her close by, suffused in tears, worn out by want of sleep; she had lost nearly all her strength, and her last hope; but she took his hand with a firm grasp, gazing at him with sorrow-stricken eyes, she nodded with suppressed feeling, she could not speak. No one could have received warmer thanks. Ragni was much startled when she likewise took her hand, for she knew she did not deserve it. The widow hurried past the others and went down toward the town, Soren Pedersen and Aase had much difficulty in keeping up with her. But Ragni clung to Kallem's arm, she would have liked to have hung round his neck, and wept bitterly.

IX.

Kristen Larssen's house remained without a tenant, no one cared to either buy or rent it; the gloom that had fallen over it spread even to his friends. It was lucky for Soren Pedersen that his customers were princ.i.p.ally from the country, and not from the town, otherwise it would have fared badly with him. Ragni did not know that she was more watched and talked about now than ever; she was not at all careful. The very fact that the minister's family refused all intercourse with them, made her a target for evil tongues; her character could not bear any more.

She was quite defenceless against the things they accused her of, as she did not know what they were. If she and Karl Meek held each other's hands on the ice; or if he made her laugh whilst putting her skates on; or if she tried to push him off when they stood each on one of the runners behind the doctor's sledge; or if they ran together with the hand-sledge, or played duets for some visitors--someone had always noticed a look that could not be mistaken, heard words that had some hidden meaning, or seen liberties taken that only those could take who were accustomed to take still greater ones. It was so with the last lodger, now again with this one; what else could Kallem have expected?

It was only his just punishment.

Soren Kule's relations were the ring-leaders; they were numerous in this part of the country, and had fertile imaginations--particularly about immoral things.

It was choice to hear Lilli Bing describe how Ragni Kule that was, went in "every evening" to the student Kallem's room; it was in the same pa.s.sage. "Dear me, what harm could there be in that, as they loved each other? Who could have gone on living with that disgusting Soren?"

She insinuated that Kallem's present wife did not even require to cross the pa.s.sage. One of her remarks was, "What harm can there be in it, as she never gets children?"

How was it that none of those whom it concerned never heard anything?

That none of the usual anonymous letters ever reached them? The first can only be explained by the fact that they scarcely ever a.s.sociated with anyone, and the second, that people probably thought that Kallem would not take the least notice of them; free-thinkers generally have rather loose ideas about morality. Toward the beginning of spring, Kallem was seen accompanying his wife and Karl Meek to the steamer; they were to cross to the other coast; he was seen to fetch them again on the pier, Monday forenoon. They knew that he was out all day, and that the other two were together in house and garden all day long.

Karl's examination went off satisfactorily, but of course with much anxiety; the day was near at hand when he was to leave them. On the whole, it had been pleasant to Ragni to have him there, but his unstability gave her much trouble, and his pa.s.sionate nature grew with his bodily strength. His great devotion to her kept this in subjection; but the way it often showed itself was a great trial to her; she loved stability and peace. She prophesied that the day would come when things would not go well with him; he carried too much canvas.

She longed to be able to be alone again; she said so to Kallem, who teased her by saying that in three weeks she would have to do without Karl. He was first to be at home for the summer holidays, but from there travel down to Germany to study music. Although he had accustomed himself to live and think under Ragni's eye, in strife with her, in subjection to her, in constant adoration; still he liked the idea of being independent. The separation would not be difficult.

But it so happened that, on one of the last days, he was at a friend's house--the only one he now and then saw since he came to the Kallems--and in speaking of his departure his friend said:

"How do you stand with regard to Kallem's wife?"

Karl did not grasp his meaning, and began singing her praises ecstatically. The other interrupted:

"Yes, I know all about that; but to make a clean breast of it, are you her lover? People say so."