In God's Way: A Novel

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

"Oh, the horror of it, the horror of it!" he burst forth. "Do you remember the night of the storm in our childhood, Edward? We thought the world was at an end. Do you remember how frightened you were up on the hill the evening after? This whole night the 'deep-sea monsters' have been trying to reach me too. The horror of it! our soul's horror of the punishment of sins! From our childhood it drives away all our intelligence, just when we are most in need of it; we run away in despair--or cast ourselves down in the dust before God. Perchance later on we get rid of this dogma of terror, but never of its effects. As I was walking along thinking of this, I came across that madman. He leapt up; the terror was upon him; he thought I was a ghost and the dog the devil! And Josephine! She too is in despair and flees away. And you, Edward? You too must be swayed by terror if you can have the heart to torture her more than she now tortures herself. For that is the worst of terror, it hurts one; he who has been terrified himself, learns to terrify others!"

The words came from him heavily; his walk was heavy too as he plodded along. Kallem did not say a word; when he suffered he was silent.

But from a child the lay preacher's son had been accustomed to hear all life experiences converted into learning. His heart was bleeding; but he talked on all the time. Kallem ought not to doubt Josephine; she was the most honourable and truthful creature on the face of the earth. In this affair she had been led astray by him. In his deep pity for her, he laid bare her soul's history as he himself saw it, and proved to him clearly that if she were to be cast off now by her brother she could not live.

Occasionally Kallem interposed with a "Dear Ole," "Listen to me, Ole;" but never got any further. For even when they reached his home and he took his brother-in-law in with him to attend to his wounds, Tuft talked on without ceasing; it was as though his fear and uncertainty would have increased had he been silent; and then too Edward must see her as he saw her, and above all help her! "All who have gone astray must be helped; they who have sinned against us--as soon as they acknowledge it they must be helped above all others! God's forgiveness is, to help us on." He was still going on with his explanations as Kallem accompanied him to the door; his giant strength was unfailing. But supposing that she meanwhile had gone back to her child and to him. Certainly there was no great hope of it; but he hurried away.

It grew lighter. Kallem could not sleep, and at last could not remain at home. In fear, greater than he would own to his brother-in-law, he went in and out of the rooms, up and down as though the house were to be searched. For it was true enough that he too had both judged and condemned.

His sister had always been fonder of him than he of her. That time they had danced together last winter he could tell that her love for him had not diminished. Yes, even when he struck her--had she not come then to do him good? Her attack on Ragni that time----of course there was more than dogmatical narrow-mindedness in it--it was jealousy! Jealousy because he had become all in all to Ragni and was nothing to her. He could have brought those two women together; it was impossible to doubt that. Had he tried to do that?

The more he thought of it, the less right he had to be severe; for he was guilty too! His sister's great eyes, as he had seen them last evening, were resting on him now in her direst need, they seemed to gaze full at him. All her life long, confused and shy, when not carried away by passion, hampered by unnatural doctrines and defiant in her truthfulness--she had looked out for him, from year to month, from week to day. Then he came and had cast her off. Cast her off for one who was not worthy of him--so it seemed to her.

Poor, poor Josephine! He had thus never been anything for her, had only harmed her, and yet she in her faithfulness had always longed for him.

The rooms became oppressive and he felt afraid; he must go out and look for her. It was getting lighter and lighter and with the feeling that morning was near, he threw open the veranda doors; but he had nothing to do out there; on the contrary he would have to shut them again if he were really going out. So he stepped out to close them again and in doing so glanced on one side--and there, sheltered from the north wind by the veranda, sitting on Ragni's bench just under his office windows, was Josephine, with her shawl over her knees. She saw him and crouched down like a wounded bird, which cannot move away, yet must not be seen. And yet she was sitting there just to be seen. There was nowhere else she could be, for she had tried. He hurried down the steps toward her. Then she trembled:

"Oh, no, Edward, oh, no; let me stay," she implored and burst into tears. And even when he took her by the arm and raised her up she kept on beseeching him, weak as any child: "Oh, no, no, Edward, let me----" but she got no further, for she felt herself folded in his arms, and felt how he too was quivering with the emotion he could not control. He was not cruel, perchance he would listen to her, and she raised her arms and threw them round him mingling her tears with his; the brother and sister stood with their heads together, cheek resting upon cheek, all the similarity of their temperament, their first and oldest feelings, their love of homelike things, down to the very smell of their clothes in the passages at their parent's house, all this met together in their one desire never again to part.