“He’s sneaked into the family, that’s what he’s done,” said Elise, her lips a little pale. “Wherever we are, he’s sure to be there too. But if he’s any ideas in his head about me, he’s very much mistaken.”
Elise went back to town.
And everything went on as usual, as if one could do without her well enough. But it was this way now with Rolandsen: from the time he had entered into partnership with Mack, he had promised himself to do good work and not waste time in dreaming of other things. Dreams and fancies for the summer-time—and then best to stop. But some go dreaming all their lives; go fluttering mothwise all their lives, and never can make an end. Now here was Jomfru van Loos in Bergen. Rolandsen had had a letter from her, to say she didn’t really never at all make out as he was beneath her, seeing he hadn’t demeaned himself with burglary and thieving after all, but only doing it for monkey tricks and fun. And that she took back her words about breaking it off, if so be it wasn’t too late and couldn’t be altered.
Elise Mack came home again in October. It was said she was properly engaged now, and her betrothed, Henrik Burnus Henriksen, captain of the coasting vessel, was visiting her. There was to be a grand ball in the great hall at Rosengaard, and a troupe of wandering musicians, on their way down from Finmarken, had been hired to play flutes and trumpets on the night. All the village was invited, Rolandsen with the rest, and Olga was to be there, and be received as Frederik Mack’s intended. But the Vicarage people were, unfortunately, prevented. A new chaplain had been appointed, and was expected every day, and the present incumbent, good man, was going elsewhere, up to the northward, where another flock needed his care. He was not altogether displeased to be going away now, to plough and sow new ground; he had not always been happy in his work here. He could look back upon a great deal accomplished; he had got Levion’s sister to call to mind the one man who owed her marriage. It was the village carpenter, a house-owner, a man of property, and with money stored under his pillow. When the priest joined them together before the altar, it was with a feeling of satisfaction. After all, unceasing toil might here and there bear fruit among the benighted.
All things came right in time—and praise the Lord, thought the priest. His household was in something nearer order now, the new housekeeper had come, and old and reliable she was; he would take her with him and keep her on at the new place. All would come right in time, no doubt. The priest had been a hard man to deal with, but none seemed to bear him enmity for that. When he stepped on board down at the waterside, there were many had come to see him off. As for Rolandsen, he would not let slip this opportunity of showing courtesy. Mack’s boat was there already with three men, waiting for him, but he would not go on board until the Vicarage folk had gone. In spite of all, the priest could not but thank him for so much consideration. And as Lay-helper Levion had carried the new priest’s lady ashore when first they came, so now he carried her on board again as well. Matters were looking brighter now for Levion, too, seeing the priest had undertaken to say a word for his reinstatement in his former post.
All would come right, no doubt.
“Now if you weren’t going north and I south,” said Rolandsen, “we might go together.”
“Yes,” said the priest. “But let us remember, my dear Rolandsen, that we may go north and we may go south, but we shall all meet again in one place at the last!” Thus spoke the priest in priestly wise, and was unshaken to the last.
Fruen sat in the stern, wearing the same pitiful shoes; they had been patched, but were grown most heartily ugly thereby. Yet she was not downcast for that; far from it; her eyes shone, and she was joyful at the thought of coming to some new place, to see what there might be. Though she could not help feeling a wistful regret for a big grey pebblestone that her husband would not let her put in her trunk, for all it was so pretty to see.
They pushed off from land, and there was a waving of hats and sou’westers and handkerchiefs, and calling “Farvel!” from the boat and from the shore.