They also asked if they might be allowed to step into the hut, to see how it looked inside. That he could well afford to let them do, for Katrina always kept the house so clean and tidy that they could receive callers there at any time.

When the young misses from the Manor came into the house they were no doubt surprised that the great Empress had grown up in a little place like that. It may have done very well in the old days, when she was used to it, they said, but how would it be now should she come back? Would she reside here, with her parents, or return to Portugallia?

Jan had thought the selfsame things himself, and he understood of course that Glory Goldie could not settle down in the Ashdales when she had a whole kingdom to rule over.

"The chances are that the Empress will return to Portugallia," he replied.

"Then you will accompany her, I suppose?" said one of the little misses.

Jan would rather the young lady had not questioned him regarding that matter. Nor did he give her any reply at first, but she was persistent.

"Possibly you don't know as yet how it will be?" she said.

Oh, yes, he knew all about it, only he was not quite sure how people would regard his decision. Perhaps they might think it was not the correct thing for an emperor to do. "I shall remain at home," he told her. "It would never do for me to leave Katrina."

"So Katrina is not going to Portugallia?"

"No," he answered. "You couldn't get Katrina away from the hut, and I shall stay right here with her. You see when one has promised to love and cherish till death--"

"Yes, I understand that one can't break that vow." This was said by the young girl who seemed most eager to know about everything. "Do you hear that, all of you?" she added. "Jan won't leave his wife though all the glories of Portugallia are tempting him."

And think of it! The girls were very glad of this. They patted him on the back and told him he did right. That was a favourable sign, they said, for it showed that all was not over yet with good old Jan Anderson of Ruffluck Croft.

He could not make out just what they meant by that; but probably they were happy to think the parish was not going to lose him.

They bade him good-bye now, saying they were going over to Doveness to a garden party.

They had barely gone when Katrina walked in. She must have been standing outside the door listening. But how long she had stood there or how much she had heard, Jan did not know. Anyway, she looked more amiable and serene than she had appeared in a long while.

"You're an old simpleton," she told him. "I wonder what other women would say if they had a husband like you? But still it's a comfort to know that you don't want to go away from me."

BJoRN HINDRICKSON'S FUNERAL

Jan Anderson of Ruffluck was not invited to the funeral of Bjorn Hindrickson of Loby.

But he understood, of course, that the family of the departed had not been quite certain that he would care to claim kinship with them now that he had risen to such glory and honour; possibly they feared it might upset their arrangements if so exalted a personage as Johannes of Portugallia were to attend the funeral.

The immediate relatives of the late Bjorn Hindrickson naturally wished to ride in the first carriage, where by rights place should have been made for him who was an emperor. They knew, to be sure, that he was not over particular about the things which seem to count for so much with most folks. It would never have occurred to him to stand in the way of those who like to sit in the place of honour at special functions. Therefore, rather than cause any ill feeling, he remained away from the house of mourning during the early forenoon, before the funeral procession had started, and went direct to the church. Not until the bells had begun tolling and the long procession had broken up on church ground did he take his place among his relatives.

When they saw Jan there they all looked a little astonished; but now he was so accustomed to seeing folks surprised at his condescension that he took it as a matter of course. No doubt they would have liked to place him at the head of the line, but then it was too late to do so, as they were already moving toward the churchyard.

After the burial service, when he accompanied the funeral party to the church and seated himself on the mourners' bench, they appeared to be slightly embarra.s.sed. However, there was no time to comment upon his having placed himself among them instead of occupying his usual high seat, in the gentry's gallery--as the opening hymn had just begun.

At the close of the service, when the conveyances belonging to the funeral party drove up onto the knoll, Jan went out and climbed into the hea.r.s.e, where he sat down upon the dais on which the coffin rested on the drive to the churchyard. As the big wagon would now be going back empty, he knew that here he would not be taking up some other person's place. The daughter and son-in-law of the late Bjorn Hindrickson walked back and forth at the side of the hea.r.s.e and looked at him. They regretted no doubt that they could not ask him to ride in one of the first carriages. Nor did he wish to incommode any one. He was what he was in any case.

During the drive to Loby he could not help thinking of the time when he and Glory Goldie had called upon their rich relatives. This time, however, it was all so different! Who was great and respected now? and who was conferring an honour upon his kinsfolk by seeking them out?

As the carriages drew up in turn before the house of mourning, the occupants stepped out and were conducted into the large waiting-room on the ground floor where they removed their wraps. Two neighbours of the Hindricksons, who acted as host and hostess, then invited the more prominent persons among the guests to step upstairs, where dinner was served.

It was a difficult task having to single out those who were to sit at the first table. For at so large a funeral gathering it was impossible to make room for all the guests at one sitting. The table had to be cleared and set three or four times.

Some people would have regarded it as an inexcusable oversight had they not been asked to sit at the first table. As for him who had risen to the exalted station of Emperor, he could be exceedingly obliging in many ways, but to be allowed to sit at the first table was a right which he must not forgo; otherwise folks might think he did not know it was his prerogative to come before all others. It did not matter so much his not being among the very first to be requested to step upstairs. It was self-evident that he should dine with the pastor and the gentry; so he felt no uneasiness on that score.

He sat all by himself on a corner bench, quite silent. Here n.o.body came up to chat with him about the Empress, and he seemed a bit dejected. When he left home Katrina had begged him not to come to this funeral, because the folks at this farm were of too good stock to cringe to either kings or emperors. It looked now as if she were right about it. For old peasants who have lived on the same farm from time immemorial consider themselves the superiors of the t.i.tled aristocracy.

It was a slow proceeding bringing together those who were to be at the first table. The host and hostess moved about a long while seeking the highest worthies, but somehow they failed to come up to him.

Not far from the Emperor sat a couple of old spinsters, chatting, who had not the least expectation of being called up then. They were speaking of Linnart, son of the late Bjorn Hindrickson, saying it was well that he had come home in time for a reconciliation with his father.

Not that there had been any actual enmity between father and son, but it happened that some thirty years earlier, when the son was two and twenty and wanted to marry, he had asked the old man to let him take over the management of the farm, so that he could be his own master. This Bjorn had flatly refused to do. He wanted the son to stay at home and go on working under him and then to take over the property when the old man was no more. "No," was the son's answer. "I'll not stay at home and be your servant even though you are my father. I prefer to go out in the world and make a home for myself, for I must be as good a man as you are, or the feeling of comradeship between us will soon end." "That can end at any time, if you choose to go your own ways," Bjorn Hindrickson told him.

Then the son had gone up into the wilderness northeast of Dove Lake, and had settled in the wildest and least populated region, where he broke ground for a farm of his own. His land lay in Bro parish, and he was never again seen in Svartsjo. Not in thirty years had his parents laid eyes on him. But a week ago, when old Bjorn was nearing the end, he had come home.

This was good news to Jan of Ruffluck. The Sunday before, when Katrina got back from church and told him that Bjorn was dying, he immediately asked whether the son had been sent for. But it seems he had not. Katrina had heard that Bjorn's wife had begged and implored the old man to let her send for their son and that he would not hear of it. He wanted to die in peace, he said.

But Jan was not satisfied to let the matter rest there. The thought of Linnart away out in the wilds, knowing nothing of his father's grave condition had caused him to disregard old Bjorn's wishes and go tell the son himself. He had heard nothing as to the outcome until now, and he was so interested in what the two old spinsters were saying, that he quite forgot to think about either the first or the second table.

When the son returned he and the father were as nice as could be to each other. The old man laughed at the son's attire. "So you've come in your working clothes," he said. "I suppose I should have dressed up, since it's Sunday," Linnart replied. "But we've had so much rain up our way this summer and I had thought of hauling in some oats to-day." "Did you manage to get in any?" the old man asked him. "I got one wagon loaded, but that I left standing in the field when word came that you were sick. I hurried away at once, without stopping to change my clothes." "Who told you about it?"

the father inquired. "Some man I've never seen before," replied the son. "It didn't occur to me to ask him who he was. He looked like a little old beggarman." "You must find that man and thank him from me," old Bjorn then said. "Him you must honour wherever you meet him. He has meant well by us." The father and son were so happy over their reconciliation that it was as if death had brought them joy instead of grief.

Jan winced when he heard that Linnart Hindrickson had called him a beggar. But he understood of course that it was simply because he had not worn his imperial cap or carried his stick when he went up to the forest. This brought him back to his present dilemma. Surely he had waited long enough! He should have been called by this time.

This would never do!

He rose at once, resolutely crossed the room into the hallway, climbed the stairs, and opened the door to the big dining-hall. He saw at a glance that the dinner was already on; every place at the large horseshoe table was occupied and the first course had been served. Then it was not meant that he should be among the elect, for there sat the pastor, the s.e.xton, the lieutenant from Lovdala and his lady--there sat every one who should be there, except himself.

One of the young girls who pa.s.sed around the food rushed over to Jan the instant he appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing here, Jan?" she said in a low voice. "Go down with you!"

"But my good hostess!" Jan protested, "Emperor Johannes of Portugallia should be present at the first sitting."

"Oh, shut up, Jan!" said the girl. "This is not the proper time to come with your nonsense. Go down, and you'll get something to eat when your turn comes."

It so happened that Jan entertained a greater regard for this particular household than for any other in the parish; therefore it would have been very gratifying to him to be received here in a manner befitting his station. A strange feeling of despondency came over him as he stood down by the door, cap in hand; he felt that all his imperial grandeur was falling from him. Then, in the middle of this sore predicament, he heard Linnart Hindrickson exclaim:

"Why, there stands the fellow who came to me last Sunday and told me that father was sick!"

"What are you saying?" questioned the mother. "But are you certain as to that?"

"Of course I am. It can't be any one but he. I've seen him before to-day, but I didn't recognize him in that queer get-up. However I see now that he's the man."

"If he is our man, he mustn't be allowed to stand down by the door, like a beggar," said the old housewife. "In that case, we must make room for him at the table. Him we owe both honour and thanks, for it was he who sent comfort to Bjorn in his last hours, while to me he has brought the only consolation that can lighten my sorrow in the loss of a husband like mine."

And room was made, too, though the table seemed to be crowded enough already.

Jan was placed at the centre of the horseshoe, directly opposite the pastor. He could not have wished for anything better. At first he seemed a little dazed. He could not comprehend why they should make such fuss over him just because he had run a few miles into the woods with a message for Linnart Hindrickson. Suddenly he understood, and all became clear to him: it was the Emperor they wished to honour; they had gone about it in this way so that no one should feel slighted or put out. It couldn't be explained in any other way. For he had always been kind and good-natured and helpful, yet never before had he been honoured or feted in the least degree for that.

THE DYING HEART