CHAP. XII.
[THE OLD MAN GETS HIS OWN WAY.]
A few years have passed since the last scene. It is in the Autumn; the schoolmaster is coming towards Heidegaard; he opens the outside door, finds nobody at home, goes further in, still nobody there, till he comes to the innermost room;--there sits Ole Nordistuen in front of his bed, gazing at his hands.
The schoolmaster salutes him, and is welcomed; takes a stool, and seats himself in front of Ole.
"You have sent for me."
"Yes, I have."
The schoolmaster looks round, takes a book that is lying on the sofa and opens it.
"What was it you wanted with me?"
"I am just thinking it over."
The schoolmaster takes his time, brings out his spectacles to read the title of the book, dries them, and puts them on.
"You are getting old now, Ole."
"Yes, it was just about that I wanted to see you; things go wrong, and I shall soon be gone."
"Then you should see that you are ready to go, Ole;" he shuts the book, and sits looking at the binding.
"It's a good book you have in your hand, there."
"Yes, that's true;--have you often got beyond the fly leaf, Ole?"
"Lately, yes--"
The schoolmaster lays the book aside, and puts his spectacles by.
"Things are not just as you would wish them now, Ole."
"Nor have they been as far back as I can remember."
"Well it was the same with me for a long time. I was not on good terms with a friend of mine, I wanted him to come to me, and I was miserable; at last I bethought me I would go to him, and since then I have been happy."
Ole looks up, but is silent.
The schoolmaster: "How do you think the farm is doing, Ole?"
"It is going backwards like myself."
"Who will take it when you are gone?"
"It is just this I don't know, and it troubles me."
"Your neighbours are doing well, Ole."
"Yes, they have the Agriculturist to help them."
The schoolmaster turns towards the window, saying somewhat carelessly, "You should have help too Ole, you can't walk much, and you know very little of the new method."
"Oh, there's no one who would help me!"
"Have you asked anyone?"
But Ole makes no reply.
The schoolmaster: "It was long thus between myself and God. 'Thou art not good to me,' I said to Him. 'Hast thou asked me to be so?' He replied. No, I had not, then I prayed, and all things went on well."
Ole is still silent, and now the schoolmaster is silent too.
At last Ole says, "I have a grandchild she knows what it would please me to see before I am borne away, but she does not do it."
The schoolmaster smiles: "Perhaps it would not please her? There are many things that trouble you, but so far as I can see, all the difficulties centre at last on the farm."
Ole replies feelingly: "Yes, it has passed from one generation to another, and the soil is good. All that father after father has got together, has been laid out there, and now things don't grow. Neither do I know, when I am taken away, who shall come in my stead. He cannot be of our kindred."
"But there is your granddaughter.--"
"But he who takes her, how will he manage the farm? This I long to know before I die. There is haste Baard, both for me and the farm."
After a pause, the schoolmaster said, "Shall we go out a little and look at the farm, this fine day?"
"Yes, let us go, I have labourers up there; they gather the leaves, but they don't work except they see me."
He hobbled for his great cap and stick, saying as he went, "They don't like working for me, I don't know how it is."
On coming out and turning the corner, he exclaimed, "Here you see, no order; the wood scattered all over, the axe not stuck in the log." He bent over with difficulty, took it up and slashed it in.
"There, do you see that sheep skin fallen down, but has any one hung it up?" He did it himself.
"And there is the ladder out of place." He put it right, and turning to the schoolmaster, said, "The same thing day after day!"
As they went further they heard a lively song from the fields.
"Hark! they are singing at work," said the schoolmaster.
"No, it is little Knut Ostistuen who is singing; he is gathering leaves for his father. It is over there my people are working, they are not singing."
"It is not one of the country songs, that?"
"No, I hear it is not."
"Ovind Pladsen has been a great deal in Ostistuen; it must be one of those he has introduced; where he is, there is sure to be song."
No reply.
The field they went over was not in good condition, it wanted attention. The schoolmaster remarked it, whereupon Ole stopped.
"I cannot do any more," he said, almost in tears; "but it is hard to go over such a field, you may be sure."
As they began to talk again about the size of the farm, and what most required attention, they concluded to go up the hill side, where they could overlook the whole. When they had reached the place, and could see the farm laid out before them, the old man was quite moved.
"I should not like to leave it as it is. We have worked hard there both I and my parents before me; but now nothing is to be seen of our labour."
Just then, right above their heads, there burst out a song, with that peculiar sharpness that a lad's voice has when it is changing. They were not far from the tree where little Knut Ostistuen was sitting, pulling leaves for his father, and they listened to the song:--
All along by copse and glade
Up the rocky mountain,
Thro' the pleasant birch wood's shade,
By the silver fountain.
Chase away each thought of care,
Gaily, gladly singing,
Through the pure and bracing air
Joyful echoes ringing.
The birds salute from every tree,
They form a charming choir,
The air grows pure, and light, and free,
Higher up and higher.
So the thought of childhood's hours
To the memory rushes,
Recollections from the flowers
Peep with rosy blushes.
Stay and listen;--it is good,
To thy heart appealing--
The grand deep song of solitude,
Speaks to every feeling.
But a streamlet gurgling on,
But a small stone rolling,
Calls up forgotten duties gone,
Like a death knell tolling.
Tremble, yes, but pray, poor soul
'Midst thy saddest thinking;--
Forward to the blesséd goal,--
Keep thy heart from sinking.
There is Christ as once of old,
Elias too, and Moses;
When their glory ye behold,
Faith in joy reposes.
Ole had seated himself, and hid his head in his hands.
"Let us talk together here," said the schoolmaster, and sat down by his side.
Down at the little farm, Ovind had just returned from a long journey, the chaise was still at the door, while the horses were resting.
Although Ovind had now a good salary as District Agriculturist, he still kept his little room, down at Pladsen, and assisted them in his spare time. Pladsen was now under good cultivation from one end to the other, but it was so small that Ovind called it "Mother's doll's play;" for it was chiefly she who managed the farm.
He had just dressed after his journey, and so had the father who had come home white from the mill, and they were speaking of going out a little before supper, when the mother came in looking quite pale:
"Do look out, pray see the strangers coming to the house!"
They both went to the window, and Ovind was the first to exclaim,--
"It is the schoolmaster, and,----yes, I do believe it is,----yes, it is him!"
"Yes, it is old Ole Nordistuen," said Thore, as he turned from the window to avoid being seen, for they were close at hand.
Ovind got a glance from the schoolmaster, as he retreated from the window; Baard smiled and looked back at old Ole, who was labouring along with his stick, and the small short steps, the one leg always lifted higher than the other. From inside they could hear the schoolmaster saying, "He has only just come home;" and Ole to repeat twice, "Hm-hm."
They waited a long time in the passage, the mother had gone to the pantry where the milk stood, Ovind had his old place, his back leaning against the great table, his face to the door, and the father sat by his side. At last there came a knock, and in walked the schoolmaster, and took his hat off, then old Ole, and took his cap off, but back he turned to shut the door, and stood a long time, manifestly at a loss. Thore rose, and bade them be seated; they sat side by side on the window sill. Thore sat down again.
Now thus was the matter settled.
The schoolmaster: "We have had beautiful weather this Autumn."
Thore: "Yes, it has taken up of late."
"It will be sure to last so long as the wind remains in the same quarter."
"Are you ready with the harvest up there?"
"No, indeed, Ole Nordistuen here, as perhaps you know, would like to have your help, Ovind, if there's nothing in the way?"
Ovind: "When I am requested, I shall be glad to do what I can."
"Yes, but it wasn't only just for the present, he meant. He sees the farm is not doing well, and he thinks it is the right method and oversight that are wanting."
Ovind: "I am so little at home."
The schoolmaster looks at Ole, who feels that it is his turn to speak now, he moves uneasily a few times, and then begins quickly and abruptly: "It was, it is,--yes,--I thought you might stay,--that is, you might live with us up there, be there, when you were not away on your journeys."
"I thank you very much for the offer, but I should prefer to stay where I am."
Ole looks at the schoolmaster, who explains:
"Things seem in a muddle for Ole to-day; you see he was here once before, and the recollection of it makes it rather awkward."
Ole, quickly: "Yes, that's it, I went on like a fool, I was striving so long with the girl, that the edge of the axe grew blunt. But byegones shall be byegones. Rain brooks soon dry up. May snow does not last long. It is not thunder that kills people."
They all laughed, and the schoolmaster said, "Ole means that you must forget the past, and you also, Thore."
Ole looks, and does not know whether he dare begin again.
Then Thore says, "A sharp cut mends sooner than a tear, and you will find no scar upon me."
Ole: "I did not know the lad that time. Now I see that things prosper under his hand; Autumn answers to Spring; he has money at his finger ends, and I should like to get hold of him."
Ovind looks at his father, and he at the mother, she from them to the schoolmaster, and at last all eyes were fixed upon him.
"Ole means that he has a large farm--"
Ole interrupts: "A large farm but ill cultivated;--I cannot do more, I am old, and my feet refuse to obey my commands, but it would repay anyone to have a pull up there."
"The largest farm in the district, and no mistake!" says the schoolmaster.
"The largest farm in the district; that is just the misfortune, for great shoes won't keep on; it is all right to have a good gun, but you must be able to lift it." (With a quick glance at Ovind,) "You could perhaps give me a lift could you?"
"To manage the farm?"
"Just so; you should have the farm."
"Should I GET the farm?"
"Just so; and so you would have the charge of it."
"But?--"
"Will you not?"
"Yes, of course."
"Yes yes, yes yes, then it is settled, said the hen, when she flew on to the water."
"But?----"
Ole looks inquiringly at the schoolmaster.
"Ovind wants to know if he is to have Marit?"
Ole quickly, "Marit into the bargain, Marit into the bargain!"
Ovind jumped up and laughed for joy, rubbed his hands, and ran about, repeating continuously, "Marit into the bargain! Marit into the bargain!"
Thore laughed in deep chuckles; the mother sat up in the corner, with eyes constantly fixed on her son, till the tears came.
Ole, very eagerly: "What do you think of the farm?"
"It's excellent soil!"
"Excellent, isn't it?"
"And matchless pastures!"
"Matchless pastures! Will it carry through?"
"It shall be the best farm in the district!"
"The best farm in the district? Do you think so? Do you mean it?"
"As true as I stand here."
"Just as I said!"
They both of them spoke equally quickly, and corresponded to each other like a pair of wheels.
"But the money, you see, the money? I have no money."
"We shall get on slowly without money, but still we shall get on!"
"We shall get on! To be sure we shall get on! But things would improve much quicker if we HAD money you say?"
"A very great deal quicker."
"A great deal? We should have had money; yes, yes; but one can chew without all one's teeth; he who drives only with oxen still gets on."
The mother stood and winked at Thore, who often glanced up quickly at her as he sat and rocked himself backwards and forwards, stroking his hands down over his knees; the schoolmaster blinked at him.
Thore cleared his throat a little, and tried to begin, but Ole and Ovind were talking so incessantly, laughing and making such a noise, that it was impossible for any one else to be heard.
"Could you be quiet a little, Thore has something to say," breaks in the schoolmaster, at which they stop and look at Thore.
At last he begins in a low tone, "It has happened that at this place we have had a mill, and of late years it has happened we have had two. From year to year we have always had a penny or two from these mills; but neither my father nor I have touched the money, excepting that time Ovind was away. The schoolmaster had it in charge, and he says it has prospered,--but now it is best that Ovind should get it for Nordistuen."
The mother stood in the corner, making herself quite little, as with a face glowing with pleasure she gazed at Thore, who, on his part, sat immoveable, and looking almost stupid; Ole Nordistuen sat in front of him with gaping mouth; Ovind was the first to recover himself from the surprise, and breaking out: "Good luck attends me!" went across the room to his father, clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh father!" said he, rubbed his hands, and went back again.
"How much money will it be?" Ole asked at last, speaking in a low tone to the schoolmaster.
"Oh, not so very little."
"A few hundred?"
"More than that."
"More than that? Ovind, more than that! Good gracious, what a farm it will be!" He rose up and laughed aloud.
"I must go up with you to see Marit," said Ovind, "we'll take the chaise that is standing outside, and be quick there."
"Yes, quick, quick! Do you, then, want everything quick?"
"Yes, quick and rash."
"Quick and rash! Exactly as when I was young, exactly!"
"Here is your cap and stick, and now I'm going to turn you out!"
"You turn me out, ha, ha, ha! But you are coming with me, really, are you not? The others must come too; we must sit together tonight so long as there is a spark in the embers, come along!"
They promised. Ovind helped him up into the carriage, and they were off to Nordistuen. The great dog was not the only one up there that was astonished when Ole Nordistuen drove into the farmstead with Ovind Pladsen. Whilst Ovind was helping him out of the carriage, and the servants and laborers were staring with open mouths, Marit came out into the passage to see what it was the dog was so incessantly barking at; but when she saw, she stopped as though she were glued to the spot, then grew desperately red, and ran in again. When old Ole got into the room, however, he called out so terrifically to her, that she could do no other than come forth again.
"Go and get ready, child, here is the one that shall have the farm!"
"Is it possible?" she exclaims almost without knowing it, and so loud that it rang again.
"Yes, it is possible!" answers Ovind, clapping his hands; thereupon she swings round on one foot, tosses that she has in her hand far away, and runs out; Ovind follows.
The schoolmaster soon came with Thore and his wife; the old man had got a lamp on the table, which was decked with a white cloth; he called for wine and beer, and he, himself, went busily round and round, lifting his legs even further up than usual, and still the right foot higher than the left.
Before this little story is concluded, it may be told that five weeks after, Ovind and Marit were married in Sognet's church. The schoolmaster himself led the song that day, as the sexton was ill. His voice was broken, for he was old, but Ovind thought it did him good to hear him. And when he had given Marit his hand and led her up to the altar, the schoolmaster nodded to him from the choir, just like Ovind had pictured it, as he sat so depressed at that dance; he nodded back again, while the tears would run down.
Those tears at the dance were the forerunners of these here, and between them lay his faith and his work.
Here ends the story of Ovind.