Ulla declared that her learning in the Scriptures was but small. She knew only what she had been taught, and a little that she had picked up: but she remembered that the former Bishop of Tronyem himself had hung up an axe in the forest, on Midsummer Eve, for the wood-demon’s use, if it pleased.
Peder observed that we all believe so many things that are not found mentioned in the Scriptures, that perhaps it would be wisest and kindest, by a dying bed, where moments were precious, to speak of those high things which the Scriptures discourse of, and which all Christians believe. These were the subjects for Ulla now: the others might be reasoned of when she was in her grave.
The pastor was not quite satisfied with this way of attending the dying; but there was something in the aged man’s voice and manner quite irresistible, as he sat calmly awaiting the departure of the last companion of his own generation. M. Kollsen took out his Bible, and read what Ulla gladly heard, till her husband knew by the slackened clasp of her hand that she heard no longer. She had become insensible, and before sunset had departed.
Rolf had continued his kind offices to the old couple with the utmost respect and propriety, to the end refusing to go out of call during the last few days of Ulla’s decline: but he had observed, with some anxiety, that there was certainly a shoal of herrings in the fiord, and that it was high time he was making use of the sunny days for his fishing. In order to go about this duty without any delay, when again at liberty, he had brought the skiff up to the beach for repair, and had it nearly ready for use by the day of the funeral. The family boat was too large for his occasions, now that Hund was not here to take an oar: and he expected to do great things alone in the little manageable skiff.
When he had assisted Peder to lay Ulla’s head in the grave, and guided him back to the house, Rolf drew Erica’s arm within his own, and led her away, as if for a walk. No one interfered with them; for the family knew that their hearts must be very full, and that they must have much to say to each other, now that the event had happened which was to cause their marriage very soon. They would now wait no longer than to pay proper respect to Ulla’s memory, and to improve the house and its furniture a little, so as to make it fit for the bride.
Rolf would have led Erica to the beach; but she begged to go first to see the grave again, while they knew that no one was there. The grave was dug close by the little mound beneath which Henrica lay. Henrica’s was railed round, with a paling which had been fresh painted—a task which Erlingsen performed with his own hands every spring. The forget-me-not, which the Nordlanders plant upon the graves of those they love, overran the hillock, and the white blossoms of the wild strawberry peeped out from under the thick grass; so that this grave looked a perfect contrast to that of Ulla, newly-made and bare. The lovers looked at this last with dissatisfaction.
“It shall be completely railed in before to-morrow night,” said Rolf.
“But cannot we dress it a little now? I could transplant some flower-roots presently, and some forget-me-not from Henrica’s hillock, if we had sods for the rest. Never mind spoiling any other nook. The grass will soon grow again.”
Rolf’s spade was busy presently; and Erica planted and watered till the new grave, if it did not compare with the child’s, showed tokens of care, and promise of beauty.
“Now,” said Rolf, when they had done, and put away their tools, and sat down on the pine log from which the pales were to be made, so that their lengthening shadows fell across the new grave,—“now, Erica, you know what she who lies there would like us to be settling. She herself said her burial day would soon be over; and then would come our wedding-day.”