Katrina of Ruffluck Croft came into the kitchen at Lovdala Manor with some spun wool. Lady Liljecrona herself received the yarn, weighed it, paid for it, and commended the old woman for her excellent work.

"It's fortunate for you, Katrina, that you are such a good worker,"

said Lady Liljecrona. "I dare say you have to earn the living for both yourself and the husband nowadays."

Katrina drew herself up a bit and two pink spots came into her face, just over the sharp cheekbones.

"Jan does his best," she retorted, "but he has never had the strength of a common labourer."

"At any rate, he doesn't seem to be working now," said Lady Liljecrona. "I have heard that he only runs about from place to place, showing his stars and singing."

Lady Liljecrona was a serious-minded and dutiful woman who liked industrious and capable folk like Katrina of Ruffluck. She had sympathy for her and wanted to show it. But Katrina continued to stand up for her husband.

"He is old and has had much sorrow these last years. He has need of a little freedom, after a lifetime of hard toil."

"It's well you can take your misfortune so calmly," observed Lady Liljecrona somewhat sharply. "But I really think that you, with your good sense, should try to take out of Jan the ridiculous nonsense that has got into his head. You see, if this is allowed to go on it will end in his being shut up in a madhouse."

Now Katrina squared her shoulders and looked highly indignant.

"Jan is not crazy," she said. "But Our Lord has placed a shade before his eyes so he'll not have to see what he couldn't bear seeing. And for that one can only feel thankful."

Lady Liljecrona did not wish to appear contentious. She thought it only right and proper for a wife to stand by her husband.

"Then, Katrina, everything is all right as it is," she said pleasantly. "And don't forget that here you will find work enough to keep you going the year around."

And then Lady Liljecrona saw the stern, set old face in front of her soften and relax: all that had been bound in and held back gave way--grief and solicitude and love came breaking through, and the eyes overflowed.

"My only happiness is to work for him," said the old woman. "He has become so wonderful with the years that he's something more than just human. But for that I suppose they'll come and take him away from me."

BOOK FOUR

THE WELCOME GREETING

She had come! The little girl had come! It is hard to find words to describe so great an event.

She did not arrive till late in the autumn, when the pa.s.senger boats that ply Lake Loven had discontinued their trips for the season and navigation was kept up by only two small freight steamers. But on either of these she had not cared to travel--or perhaps she had not even known about them. She had come by wagon from the railway station to the Ashdales.

So after all Jan of Ruffluck did not have the pleasure of welcoming his daughter at the Borg pier, where for fifteen years he had awaited her coming. Yes, it was all of fifteen years that she had been away. For seventeen years she had been the light and life of his home, and for almost as long a time had he missed her.

It happened that Jan did not even have the good fortune to be at home to welcome Glory Goldie when she came. He had just stepped over to Falla to chat a while with the old mistress, who had now moved out of the big farmhouse and was living in an attic room in one of the cottages on the estate. She was one of many lonely old people on whom the Emperor of Portugallia peeped in occasionally, to speak a word of cheer so as to keep them in good spirits.

It was only Katrina who stood at the door and received the little girl on her homecoming. She had been sitting at the spinning wheel all day and had just stopped to rest for a moment, when she heard the rattle of a team down the road. It so seldom happened that any one drove through the Ashdales that she stepped to the door to listen. Then she discovered that it was not a common cart that was coming, but a spring wagon. All at once her hands began to tremble.

They had a way of doing that now whenever she became frightened or perturbed. Otherwise, she was well and strong despite her two and seventy years. She was only fearful lest this trembling of the hands should increase so that she would no longer be able to earn the bread for herself and Jan, as she had done thus far.

By this time Katrina had practically abandoned all hope of ever seeing the daughter again, and that day she had not even been in her thought. But instantly she heard the rumble of wagon wheels she knew for a certainty who was coming. She went over to the chest of drawers to take out a fresh ap.r.o.n, but her hands shook so hard that she could not insert the key into the keyhole. Now it was impossible for her to better her attire, therefore she had to go meet her daughter just as she was.

The little girl did not come in any golden chariot, she was not even seated in the wagon, but came afoot. The road to the Ashdales was as rocky then as at the time when Eric of Falla and his wife had driven her to the parsonage, to have her christened, and now she and the driver tramped on either side of the wagon steadying a couple of large trunks that stood on end behind the seat, to prevent them being jolted into the ditch. She arrived with no more pomp and state than this, and more was perhaps not called for either.

Katrina had just got the outer door open when the wagon stopped in front of the gate. She should have gone and opened the gate, of course, but she did not do so. She felt all at once such a sinking at the heart that she was unable to take a step.

She knew it was Glory Goldie who had come, although the person who now pushed the gate open looked like a grand lady. On her head was a large hat trimmed with plumes and flowers and she wore a smart coat and skirt of fine cloth; but all the same it was the little girl of Ruffluck Croft!

Glory Goldie, hurrying into the yard in advance of the team, rushed up to her mother with outstretched hand. But Katrina shut her eyes and stood still. So many bitter thoughts arose in her at that moment! She felt that she could never forgive the daughter for being alive and coming back so sound of wind and limb, after letting her parents wait in vain for her all these years. She almost wished the daughter had never bothered to come home.

Katrina must have looked as if ready to drop, for Glory Goldie quickly threw her arms around her and almost carried her into the house.

"Mother dear, you mustn't be so frightened! Don't you know me?"

Katrina opened her eyes and regarded the daughter scrutinizingly.

She was a sensible person, was Katrina, and of course she did not expect that one whom she had not seen in fifteen years should look exactly as she had looked when leaving home. Nevertheless, she was horrified at what she beheld.

The person standing before her appeared much older than her years; for she was only two and thirty. But it was not because Glory Goldie had turned gray at the temples and her forehead was covered with a ma.s.s of wrinkles that Katrina was shocked, but because she had grown ugly. She had acquired an unnatural leaden hue and there was something heavy and gross about her mouth. The whites of her eyes had become gray and bloodshot, and the skin under her eyes hung in sacks.

Katrina had sunk down on a chair. She sat with her hands tightly clasped round her knees to keep them from shaking. She was thinking of the radiant young girl of seventeen in the red dress; for thus had she lived in Katrina's memory up to the present moment. She wondered whether she could ever be happy over Glory Goldie's return.

"You should have written," she said. "You should at least have sent us a greeting, so that we could have known you were still in the land of the living."

"Yes, I know," said the daughter. Her voice, at least, had not failed her; it sounded as confident and cheery as of old. "I went wrong in the beginning--but perhaps you've heard about it?"

"Yes; that much we know," sighed Katrina.

"That was why I stopped writing," said Glory Goldie, with a little laugh. There was something strong and st.u.r.dy about the girl then, as formerly. She was not one of those who torture themselves with remorse and self-condemnation. "Don't think any more of that, mother," she added, as Katrina did not speak. "I've been doing real well lately. For a time I kept a restaurant and now, I'll have you know, I'm head stewardess on a steamer that runs between Malmo and Lubeck, and this fall I have fitted up a home for myself at Malmo.

Sometimes I felt that I ought to write to you, but finding it rather hard to start in again, I decided to put it off until I was prepared to take you and father to live with me. Then, after I'd got everything fixed fine for you, I thought it would be ever so much nicer to come for you myself than to write."

"And you haven't heard anything about us?" asked Katrina. All that Glory Goldie had told her mother should have gladdened her, but instead it only made her feel the more depressed.

"No," replied the daughter, then added, as if in self-justification: "I knew, of course, that you'd find help if things got too bad." At the same time she noticed how Katrina's hands shook for all they were being held tightly clasped. She understood then that the old folks were worse off than she had supposed, and tried to explain her conduct. "I didn't care to send home small sums, as others do, but wanted to save until I had enough money to provide a good home for you."

"We haven't needed money," said Katrina. "It would have been enough for us if you had only written."

Glory Goldie tried to rouse her mother from her slough of despond, as she had often done in the old days. So she said: "Mother, you don't want to spoil this moment for me, do you? Why, I'm back with you again! Come, now, and we'll take in my boxes and unpack them.

I've brought provisions along. We'll have a fine dinner all ready by the time father comes home." She went out to help the driver take the luggage down from the wagon, but Katrina did not follow her.

Glory Goldie had not asked how her father was getting on. She supposed, of course, that he was still working at Falla. Katrina knew she would have to tell the daughter of the father's condition, but kept putting it off. Anyway, the little girl had brought a freshening breeze into the hut and the mother felt loath to put a sudden end to her delight at being home again.

While Glory Goldie was helping unload the wagon, half a dozen children came to the gate and looked in; they did not speak; they only pointed at her and laughed--then ran away. But in a moment or two they came back. This time they had with them a little faded and shrivelled old man, who strutted along, his head thrown back and his feet striking the ground with the measured tread of a soldier on parade.

"What a curious looking figure!" Glory Goldie remarked to the driver as the old man and the youngsters crowded in through the gate. She had not the faintest suspicion as to who the man was, but she could not help noticing a person who was so fantastically arrayed. On his head was a green leather cap, topped with a bushy feather; round his neck he wore a chain of gilt paper stars and crosses that hung far down on his chest. It looked as though he had on a gold necklace.

The youngsters, unable to hold in any longer, shouted "Empress, Empress!" at the top of their voices. The old man strode on as if the laughing and shrieking children were his guard of honour.

When they were almost at the door of the hut Glory Goldie gave a wild shriek, and fled into the house.

"Who is that man?" she asked her mother in a frightened voice. "Is it father? Has he gone mad?"

"Yes," said Katrina, the tears coming into her eyes.

"Is it because of me?"