PT H5 12% LIBRARY OF LEWIS BINGLEY WYNNE A.B.. A.M.. COLUMBIAN COLLEGE.'71.-7S WASHINGTON, D. C. THE GIFT OF MRS. MARY A. WYNNE AND JOHN H. WYNNE CORNELL '98 1922 OfarneU Uttiwrattij ffiibratg | atltaca. ^tm 'Bark DATE DUE FEB 03 1983 fi .... n PT 9737.H5™1fl5r"'*^ '""'""^ 9737.H5 1856 ...Hertha. 3 1924 026 327 779 s- o w Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026327779 HEBTffii F R E D R i K A: ;a^^#:;TVI E R ::;i^ TBiSalATEB BT V. '^ MAET HOWI/TT.. g^trfljori^elr' ;^pKJ«ft ;f i^mt,.:.j^|{^i iwtfeor's gritoalimt. ' NEW YORK rl G, P. PUTNAM & CO., saijBROADWAt". 18S6. .,^11 i; If, ^J;J ■■ ^. ..ltWa':|.l:Ji,?^'i*V 6(4 DEDICATION FOR THE AMERICAN EDITION. §km^ Pmorg oi A. J. DOWNING, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 'IN LOVE AND QRATBFUL REMEMBRANCE BY THE AUTHOR. "The women must regenerate us socially," was a favorite saying of yours, my friend, a saying precious tome as coming from a spirit so just, BO observing, and dispriminating as yours; and as it seemed to me to express a feeling inherent though only half conscious in the people of your-country, the great New World, the land of promise and of hope to millions of hearts in Europe. It also corresponded deeply to the faith of my own heart. But if woman shall be able^to accomplish the great work which we believe intrusted to her by the great author of life ; our laws and customs, insti- tutions and education, must not counteract the normal development of her noblest faculties, of her will and aspirations ; they must rather be to her the very soil and sun in which the tree of her life can grow, and develop its branches, and bear its fruits, in full correspondence to its inward essence. You will certainly assent to this, my friend, you whose skilful hand loved to raise plants of every kind so as to propitiate their full growth and God-given beauty or grace. But is it so with regard to human institutions — for the growth of woman's mind, and the full deve- lopment of her God-given gifts t IV DBDigATIOK. You know, my friend, that it is not so ; you obBerved it already on earth, and must know it better still in that blessed 'society where men and women commune as angels before the face of God. Even in your native land, which a fri«nd and countryman of mine calls, "The promised land of woman, and of the child," and where the women are indulged and left fancy-free certainly more than in any other country on earth, it is not so. There, even there, indulgence has not yet become justice, and the love for woman not reverence to her mission, so as to command a training for her mind, and opportunities for its development corresponding to that mission — training and opportunities which alone can malte her aequire her full worth. Nor has she yet been propitiated so far in any country on earth, though superior natures have in almost all countries shown the worth and influence she is capable of. Of her situation in my own land with reference to our laws and social customs, I have drawn a picture in the work which bears the name of Hertha, and which I dedicate to you ; then by men such as you, and to you congenial, I should wish my work to be judged. Its bitter parts must be excused on the score of bitter pain, not of a selfish kind. The patriarchal bonds which keep back the' growth of woman's mind and social life in Sweden, and which sometimes amount to the most .crush- ing tyranny, I have shadowed forth in these pages often with a heavy heart. But I have done it for love for the moral growth and worth of tEiy people, in strong faith and hope that when its noble spirit came to look facts in the face, and know the suffering and debasement, or the bitterness of spirit arising from this state of things, it will rise and carry out in the liberation of woman, the noble motto of our present King, " Fruth and Justice." My people was the first among the Scandinavian nations to liberate its slaves, when the blessed voice of the Redeemer was heard in the North, proclaiming the brotherhood of all men and the freedom in the father God. Certainly it cannot long be one of the last to liberate the loving companion of man, woman, from a state of tutelage and bondage, which other Christian countries have already shaken off for her. More than this liberation I do not at present hope for. But when the day will come, when the sons of the earth will better know their true welfare, they will give much more still to her who is to be the Mother and first teacher, in facti' the inspiring Egeria of the future generations, the coming Man ! DKDICATIOlSr. V From your" heavenly home, my friend, methinka I see you smiling down, " Amen." Since we parted on America's shores, the homes of my conntry have drawn nearer to those of your land in sympathy and love for their noble hearts, their beautiful life, and I am happy to know that I have some part in this, though only as the well who gives back the images of the flowers and stars looking down in her mirror. Tour noblest poets and prose writers have begun to be translated in my native tongue. tTncle Tom's Cabin has been read passionately by rich and poor, in the palaces and cabins of my land ; Longfellow's poems are translated by a graceful Swedish muse ; and Washington Irving's Wolfert's Boost is now read in our daily papers throughout the land, with that peculiar pleasure and charm awakened by this delightful writer, ever young, ever pure, writing as no other romantic interest with classical purity and elegance, beloved by all classes, read in all lands. Even your books, my friend, are spreading in my country, and are at this moment helping my brother-in-law to build a, house and plant a garden for his summer residence. At my parting with you, I promised to give the right of publication in America of a work of mine to a, friend of yours, whose generous spirit even I had learned to know and to appreciate. In now giving my Hertha in the hands of Mr. George P. Putnam, I am conscious that I hitrust to him the work, which, of all my writings, has the deepest root in my own life and consciousness, — a work which sacred duty (Commanded me to write. And I am happy to fulfil my engagement to him and a wish of yours. F. B CONTENTS. FAQS Air EvENDTO Pabty, ' . 1 Hebe aj^d These on the Wat Home, 38 The Old Hottbe, .... 51 ThbSisteeb, 64 Hebtha's Dbeam, 85 The iNOEiiwABT Ftre, 109 Nioht m THE Kma's-FrBiD, 125 QoiiBEqUENOSS, 135 The Soira of the Bells, . 137 Fathee akd Daitghtbe, . 139 The Son of the TwiuaBT, IM New Schemes and TJMDBRTAKnfGK 9, 161 Hebtha's Paet, . 156 The New Home, . 175 A New Aoquaintanoe, . 183 Shoet Visits, 195 Love, . . ^ 215 The Sbepent, 223 The Name, 230 TSb Jotjenbt, . » : . 237 St. Beita's Stjmmbe, . 260 The MEETiNqt BT^tHE Gbave, . 271 Meeeimbnt and DANonra, . 277 CONTEESATION BY THE WaT, • . 279 vm CONTENTS. FASK The Geeat Law-sitit, ...... 288 AMOSIBNT, . ... . 293 Sbtbn Ybaes, . 297 Talk tjndeb an UMBEBttA, . 321 Anothee Qubbtion, . 325 A "Wedding at Kungszopino, . 331 A Contested Election, . . 336 Anothee Wedding, . 340 Moening, . . 845 HtsTHA's Home, . . 351 Fathee and Daitgeteb, . . 353 The Wedding, . 366 A'SONBEAM, . 367 The Angel of Dbatb, . 361 All-Hallows-Kbst, . 866 Seieotionb eeom Heetha's Diabt, . 869 KuNGSKopiNG People, • . 881 HERTHA. AN EVENING PAETT. " NowHBBE," says the proverb, " do thiags happen more oddly than in this world." And nowhere in the vorld did things happen more oddly than on a certain evening in our good town of Kungsl^oping ; for there was a great party there, and people were heard taJMng in this style :, " NTow, ladies and gentlemen, we must set to and arrange everything ! Every group in order ! Camellias, mignonettes, and roses, you aU stand in that corner : good &iLri,es and hob- goblins in the opposite one. Gods and goddesses, stand for- ward — Olympus to the right, Valhalla to the left ! — Jupiter, Colonel Jupiter, where is he ? — 'Pon my honor, standing and shaking haftds with Odin. Colonel Jupiter, do you, hear? "What have you to do with Valhalla ? Ton belong to the Olympian division. Mrs. Frigga, be so good, as to take Qharge of Odin and his people. We must keep order in the world," " Yes, certainly : only don't forget that Odin must dance with Juno, and I with Jupiter." , " Of course, in the grand Polonaise. But now every one must go to his own post. Colonel Jupiter, be so good and stand -here beside your worthy offspring. Mars and Vulcan, Apollo and Bacchus ! General Odin, march forwaa-d ! — ^if J, may be so bold. Lieutenant Thor-r«uperb ! Assessor 14 HBETHA. *, Balder; very 'good! Miss Iduna, be so obliging !— Iron- master Brage — ^where the deuce is he gone to? JIa! ha! he stands bowing to the graces of Olympus. Do you hear, my good sir, leave all that tiU the great polska.' Your place, for the present, is in Valhalla, and on this side. The' farcse here; the KTornor there; that is as it should be. Good 'fairies and goblins, let me see you in your own region 1 No deserters now. It is enough to turn one's head. Apropos of head, where have we a Mimer's head ? Where can we get a Mimer ?" " Professor Methodius !" " Our one-eyed uncle ! Splendid. But where is he ?" " There ! standing with his forefinger to his nose, demon- strating his system to the Countess P. He is, no' doubt, at this very moment amid the creation of the world. I can see it in his face." And that was true enough. The Professor, called Metho- dius, was really standing before the Countess P., and replying to her somewhat mischievous inquiry of "how the system was going on ?" " Thank you for the inquiry ; oh yes, it rocks to and fro like the seaman aground in his vessel." And the Professor laughed heartUy at his own conceit. " The fact is, that as yet I cannot get it rightly in order, cannot set it to work, as they say. Nevertheless I have got part way. And if one is only sure of the foundation, one may feel quite safe in buUding up the house and putting the roof on. In the same way, if one wiU improve the state of the world one must know something about the beginning of the world, and there- fore must begin at the beginning. One must go methodi- cally to work. Suppose now that we imagine the beginning, I mean the creation. Imagine then, my gracious Countess, a — ^movement, yes, just a movemeirt, as of an immense mass of meal porridge^ which fiUs aU space ; and the whole of this mass moves and moves and seethes, just as one sees porridge hea^ping and seething in a big pot.' But through all this heaving and this seething, the grains (the atoms, .as the AN EVENING PARTY. 15 learned call them, but we will express ourselves in a popular manner) oolleot or mass themselves together into .small lumps and clumps, and these again lump themselves together into stUl larger and larger lumps and masses — and so it goes on tiU — ^till at last aU the porridge-grains have adhered in one great lump or mass, which we call the earth. Now it is ready ; now there it lies, like a great ball, and now it gets a good sound blow or bang on its side, which sends it 'spinning round and round into infinite space, till ?' " But, my dear Professor, who gave it the blow ?" inquired the Countess. " Blow here and bang there !" exclaimed Major von Post, the hvely maitre desplaisirs of both the town and the present company, interrupting at this point the history of creation ; "pardon, good uncle, but since you helped our Lord in the- creation of the world, be so good as to help us a httle in bringing our Valhalla into order, and lend us your head for Mimer's head." The good Professor seemed at the first moment somewhat confounded by this unexpected proposal, but immediately replied with a good-tempered smUe : " Most willingly, if I can only be sure about what is going to happen to my head. For as I remenjber, Mimer's head had to undergo some extraordinary operations, such as being cut ofi", being boUed, and-^ — " " Ah, dear papa, there is no danger. I'll be answerable for your head," iaterrupted, laughing, an elegantly attired lady, over whose full, but still youthfiil countenance, such a sun- shine of joy and kindliness was difiused, that it seemed as though it could never have any wrinkles ; and while Mimmi Svanberg endeavored with her white and soft hand to smoothe down the Professor's disorderly grey-streaked locks, she con- tinued ; " we assume here many dissimilar shapes, but always remain ourselves nevertheless. I am going to be, one after another, first a witch, then a goddess, and lastly Pax Domes- tica, with a whole train of sweeping-brooms and dust-pans ; — papa, be a splendid Mimer !" 16 HBBTHA. " Well, just es you like, my dear Mimmi ; but- — 5" "Everybody must come; one go after another. Let ns begin, let us begin, ladies and gentlemen, or we shall never be ready ! " exclaimed the Major. "One moment; just one moment more, my dear Major," besought the lady of ibhe house ; " let us fiM have tea. It is just ready. And everything wiU go on with so much rabre spirit when people have had some refreshment." We hope that by this time we have corrected the suspicion which our readers at the beginning might have entertained, namely, that they were in a company of fools. They are now aware most likely that they are in company with very rational people, assembled to amuse themselves with a merry sohenie. The company have this evening met in Merchant EufVa's large drawing-room, for the rehearsal of a great fancy-ball,' which was to take place a few days later in the splendid new Assembly Eooms of the town, and which was to be the crowning 'festivity of all the festive occasions of the present winter; "altogether most exquisitely^ most divinely amusing," said the young girls. People had enjoyed this winter many pubhc festivities in the good town of Kungskoping, which, although not properly beLomgiag to the small towns, yet, nevertheless, under ordinary circumstances, participated in the ordinary mode of life pecu- liar to small Swedish towns, which has been described by a lady residing in a small town as follows : — " One da,y is so terribly Uke another that people don't know how to dis- tiaguish one from another." For this reason many an inhabitant of a little town, that he may not drop fest asleep from _ sheer weariness, endeavors to keep himself awake by drinking punch, playing at cards, and many other such pas- times, which have the result of making the purse light, and the heart heavy. The ladies again, when they do not partake of ,the gentlemen's pastime — which sometimes happens — generally endeavor to amuse themselves with coflfee-parties, novef-readiag, an^ petty scandal, by way of a little spice to , the thin, spiritual soup of daily life. And this especially dur- AN EVENING PABTT. 17 ing our long' northern winters. But this winter in KungskSp- ing formed a brilliant exception to ordinary winters. The railroad, which was heing laid "down just outside the town, had brought to its social circles a number of young engineers, for the most part lively and intelligent men, who had given a new spring to every pleasure, and people had especially afFordr ed them opportunities for cheerful exercise at their baUs, and their suppers, which had taken the character of balls. In short, nobody could remember there ever having been so gay a winter before at Kungskoping. People talked also about three marriage engagements which were on foot, besides one which was a settled thing. This last was between the eldest daughter of the house where the company were now assembled, and the rich ironmaster, Tack- jern, "a very good match," said everybody, because Eva Du£va would have her own house, her own carriage — to say nothing of having a very respectable man for her hus- band. Eva Dufva, however, looked pale, and not very happy. But she was one of many sisters of a family not rich, though tolerably well to do — and they all, parents and sisters, had been delighted with this wealthy offer. She would be able to make them aU happy ; could invite her parents to dinner, and her sisters, out into the country to visit her at her country- house. Eva Dufva said yes to the iron-master Tackjem, who offered her aU this. The wedding was therefore to take place in May, upon the silver wedding-day of her parents, and the golden wedding-day of the old grand-parents; and in prepara- tion for this great occasion Mr. Alderman Dufv^a repaired, added to, and put in order his house, and the approaching three-fold marriage festival cheered the house and the minds of aU with every kind of happy preparation. Mi-s. Dufira herself, a handsome woman, who loved to do everything on a magnificent scale, appeared to be the moving soul in every- thing, arranging and determining all with the utmost pleasure ; ^ only now and then she cast a stolen and troubled glance at the pale and grave bride elect, her daughter. But thought 18 HEBTHA. she to herself, " when, she is married, and sees herself pos- sessed of everything so splendid and good, then " , And so tl^ks many a niother. Now whilst tea and other refreshments are carried round, and the gods and goddesses, good fairies and goblii% seat themselves in window-nooks and at little tables, and enjoy themselves and talk together, we will avail om'selveS of the opportunity to become more intimately acquainted with some persons and- groups of the party,yandv listen to the conversation which is going on amongst them. We will first approach a married couple, who look particu- larly comfortable, because we love comfortable people and married couples, and we can see plainly enough that they are such; that little clergyman, with his somewhat underrized figure ; his broad chest, his almost child-like, round, and open countenance, and that httle lady whose appearance gives us a forekno'v^ledge that she unites in her own person both 'Mary and Martha, and who now, laying her hand so confidentially on the pastor's shoulder, says in a low voice : " Now, my httle old man! Now I think it is a good oppor- tunity for you to bring forward your proposal." " Now ? How so ? " sighed the httle pastor, with a comic expression of terror, " my dea* little old woman, let me strengthen myself first ; let me get a little power and coura^ by the help of this good tea, and these good biscuits, and — and— a. little glass of rum ! Do you see — ^thia is a subject which it is not so easy to iotrodace. Do you see-r-Here comes Mimmi Svanberg; oMy don't talk about that proposal. Sit down and drink tea with us. What would you Uke? what would you have? A pair of old boots? I would very willingly kepp them for myself. Mother, don't you forget that Mimmi is to have my old bootS'^'-woto fewe— ronly I must wear them out first." " Ah, jvhat is it that you good people are laughing at ? " asked a lady with a singularly dark and moumfdl physiog- nomy, as she advanced towards the trio. This was the widow Ulxikai XJggla. AN EVENING PARTY. 19 Mrs. Uggla and Mimmi Svanberg are the greatest con- trasts in the world. The latter smiles, and is always endeavor- ing to make life more easy for herself and others jthe formei: sighs over everything, and sees everywhere only that whioh is painfiil and unsightly. "I" do not know," continued she, "how people 'can be so merry when there is so much sorrow and vexation in the world." "For that very reason," replied Mimmi Svanberg, "one must endeavor to make it more cheerful. Besides, there is also a great deal which is very good, and which makes one very happy." " Yes, so it seems to you ; but to those who think a little more seriously on things in general — ^in this very house, for instance, it seems to me that all this joy is really sorrow in disguise." " in this- house ! But where, in all the world, can one find a more comfortable h6me, — a more agreeable family^ — a more beautiful understanding between parents and children, — more amiable young gjrls ? " Yes, those seven Miss Dufvas ! — ^it is really a cheerful prospect to have so many girls ; poor girls to be got rid of; what is to become of them all? " " Oh, time enough for that yet ; such nice girls as thisy are. Besides, one of them is already engaged." " Yes, but how does she look ? As if she were ready to make away with herself Nothing but sorrow wUl come out of that marriage, that I can foresee ; and all the other girls^^ they win,- aU of them, be like superfluous cards." " There are no longer any such cards in the world," said Mimmi Svanberg, laughing ; " now-ardays all people are need- ed for the well-being of the public, and may each one take his proper place atid help the others in private or public societies." ' ', - "Psha! with your pubUc societies; they are the most , troublesome things that I know, and, if I have my will, Inge- borg shall have nothing to do with them. They are all down- 20 HERTHA. right nonsense, and good-for-nothing schemes. Girls can make fools enough of themselves in the world without adding these public societies to their folly ! " Mi-s. Uggla's doleful countenance, and mode of expressing herself, seemed so absurd to Mimmi Svanberg, that she burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter: the clergyman, how- ever, took up the subject more seriously, and rephed : " I do not think so. If girls make fools of themselves in the world, it is their own fault and the fault of their mothers. Would to God that I had twice as many daughters as Mrs. Dufva; I should find ways and means and employment for them all, partly at home and partly fi-om home^ precisely in some of those excellent societies for the well-being of the community, which offer to all and every one an opportunity of being useful, and serving our Lord, each one according to his several talents and turn of mind." " It is aU talk!" said Mrs. XJggla, with an angry expression'; " a girl ought to get married and have her own family and domestic affairs to look after. And that Ingeborg might have had, if she had not in her youth been a romantic simpleton, and refused a good offer, merely because she was not in love with the man. For that reason she now sits there like a piece of furniture, and is red-nosed, and old, and never will be any- 1 thing but an old maid. It is altogether nothing but stupidity and vexation." She, of whom these hard words were spoken, was a- young woman of about thirty, or somewhat more, and whose appeai-- ance an^ manner betrayed a painful consciousness of a youth which was passed, and a restless endeavor stiU to retain it. She had handsome teeth, and therefore she oftentimes smiled, although her smile was deficient in gladness, while her dress was more youthful than became her age and her appearance. When her mother's restless and gloomy eye was fixed upon her, she might especially be seen to assume a gaiety and live- liness which evidently did not proceed fi-om the heart. Hence it followed that she appeared affected, and was considered to be so. AN EVENING PAETX-— - ' 21 Mimmi Svanberg, who understood and valued Ingeborg TJggla better than her splenetic mother did, said : " Ingeborg is not a common character, and may yet marry ■well if she Ukes. In the meantime I think that she showed her good taste, and her noble, right feeling, by remaining rather in her mother's house than marry a man whom she could not like." With these, words Mimmi Svanberg, as if afraid of further contention on the subject, rose up to speak with some other persons in the room, calling forth, for the most part, wherever she came, cheerful conversation and laughter. We will now listen to what that group of young men are saying. A. " It is dreadfully slow here. There won't be a single - card-table this evening." B. " I doubt it. Let's make the best of a bad business. I'U go and talk with the ladies." * A. " The deuce you will I It is such hard work making polite speeches. Ifo, I'll be off to my club, smoke a cigar and have a bowl of punch, which you're very welcome to empty with me." JB. " Not a bad idea ; but — I'll just have a little talk first with little Miss D. She is a very, pice little girl, and is said to have in expectation her fifty thousand banko." G. " Introduce me to her, my good fellow ! Be so good as to introduce me ; but stay, teU me first, for I am only just come to this place, which are the richest girls here this evening." £. " I can't exactly say — not precisely ; let's look round. First there are the young ladies of the house ; my friend Von Tackjem is betrothed to one of them, but the other six or seven are yet to be had." C. " The sweet little doves ! but are they worth anything ? you understand me !" B. " Not much to speak of, I fancy, except handsome fea- thers — a good outfit." C. " WeU, we'U let them fly. There are two very pretty girls sitting there, as much alike as if they were sisters." 22 HEBTHA. B. "The Miss Roses; the Roses, as they are generally called: most ohanning girls; they are very accomplished " G. " Yes, but have they any money as well?" JB. " They have nothing but hearts and roses." G. " Well, we'll leave them sitting there, then. Now let's go on in the fair." -B. " Beside them sits Miss Ilggla •; not exactly poor, and rather a niceish sort of girl ; but ;Bbe's getting old now ; has been at balls for I don't know how many years, so that she is quite &ded and pass^e." G. "Pass her by then and go on to somebody else. WhiO is thg,t wEo sits beside her, dressed in. black ? she bas a fine figure, but she looks so cursedly positive." jB. " Be on your guard against her, for she has a sharp tongue ! She is nevertheless worth ber Jwenty thousand banko, that is to say, when papa, old Falk, is dead ; because, so long as he is alive, he won't part with a single stiver, that's a cer- tainty.^' G. " Twenty thousand banko ! nay, that is too low a figure for me to put myself under the petticoat government of such a ruler. Such bondage as that must be pretty well gilded." JB. " Here comes the bridegroom elect, the future son-in-law of the house, my friend Von Taclgern, a rich and capital fellow — coming to speak to me." G. " Introduce me to him, my good fellow ; I am only just come to the plao^, and should Uke to become acquainted with the respectable " The introduction took place. Mr. Von Tackjern was a for- mal, substantial gentleman, who liked evidently that people should bow down before him, but was not very much inclined to bow to others. He looked as if an iron poker were run through him from head to foot. To the congratulations of his Mend on his betrothal with so amiable a young lady, he replied coldly : " She is a good girl, and will, I hope, be an excellent wife, and make me happy. I look for the reality in happiness aa well as in life." • AK EVmmTG PAETT, 23 -B. "A very right and prudent way of thinMng ; it -would be well if every one thought as rationally." Von Tackjem. " Yes, people would render themselves and their country better service in that way than by giving them- selves up to every kind of fantastic and philanthropic whim. That philanthropy, with all its societies and collections, it totally ruins " JB. " Don't speak so loud, for here comes a lady very for- midable on this score, one of our fellow citizenesses — — " " Say formidable, because she is irresistible by her good heart and her good temper, this tutelar saint of the poor," said a young man who stood near the speakers, " and one cannot possibly say no to anything which she desires." " It is one of my principles never to put my name down to amy subscriptions," said Von Tackjern, and buttoned up his coat. " And it is one of mine always to do so," said the former speaker, " when they are promoted by persons whom I know to be really the friends of the poor, as is the case with my cousin Mimmi Svaaberg." Mimmi Svanberg came up to the last speaker at this very moment and a^ed in a merry and low voice : " My good Yngve, your father was a warm fiiend of his country, and you are his worthy son, and — ^you have no doubt an old pair of boots f I want a pair this week." " They shall stand, before your door to5norrow morning, my dear cousin ; because if I have not any, some of my friends have, which wiU be quite at your service. Whose old legs are you going to make happy with them? — ^though it is all one to me. But do you not want two pair ? Go and ask our rich ironmaster here " " No thank you ; I shall take care not to do so. I know to whom I go. Thank you, dear Yngve. But I have not done with you yet ; I want fo turn this evening to good account ; Smd you must help me to do so. I want the price of the tickets to be applied to the benefit of our infant gchool. Cannot you propose it, Yngve ? We must speak to our good 24 HBETHA. pastor about it and endeavor to interest Mrs. Tapplander in the Biibject. Where is she ?" Mrs. Tupplander sate in the middle of the sofa, glittering in full feather and pomp of attire, enthroned like a queen, or rather as one who would enact the queen. Mrs. Tupplander would in fact be very willingly queen-regent of the town, the greatest chicken in the hen-coop, as the saying is, the first lady in company, and as yet no one has contested the place with her, because she is a rich widow, who gives liberal alms, and ■extremely good dinners, to which her housekeeping companion, a lady of good family, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, greatly contributes. Miss Krusbjorn has a genius in this liue, arid manages Mrs. Tnpplander's house both in a clever and splen- did manner, which is precisely according to MrSi Tnpplander's notions. Mrs. Tupplander and Miss. KrusbjSrn divide the rule of the fanuly, as in a constitutional goverplnent, into the upper and lower house; but in case of difference of opinion, which frequently occurs, the lower house ^neraUy carries its own point. Mrs. Tupplander bears the na&e, but Miss Krus- .bj6m has the power. Yet Mrs. Tupplan^r and Miss Krus- bjorn could not Uve without each other. ^ But enough for the present about these ladies. Mimmi Svanberg, who saw the weaknesses of her f^ow creatures, and smiled at them rather than let them annoy her, was nevertheless sometimes annoypd by Mrs. Tupplander, though she always kept up a good understanding with her for the sake of her poor neighbors ; and therefore she listened with great patifihoe to the description of a dinner which Mrs. Tupplander was about to give, and of all the delicate dishes and wines, the whole sprinkled with the praises of Miss Krusbjorn and her talents.' When, however, Mrs. Tupplander approached the end of her dinner details, Mimmi Svanberg attacked-her on her weak side, as the friend and patroness of the poor, and obtained the promise of her help on behalf of a needy family, as well as her .advocacy and co-operation in a plan which would be brought Torward that very .evening. Li this way compelled to a certain degree, Mrs. Tupplander gave AN EVENING PARTY. , 25 her consenl, but added with a little pepper, as it were, on the tip of her tongue : " I cannot for my part imagine, dear Mimmi, how you can undertake and have so many things on hand at once ; your fether, on the contrary, never seems to be ready with anything which he is about." " The reason is," replied Mimmi gaily, " because papa lives for eternity and I merely for the moment." Mimmi Svanberg had in fact a mode of speaking and acting very unhke that of her father. It might at the first glance appear to be of that kind which many ladies are weU versed in, and which may be called the hand-over-head method. But if all those who made use of this method were guided by so good a heart and so clear an understanding as Mimmi Svan- berg, then they would, in their hand-over-head proceedings, always manage to say and to do the very wisest and best things. As a matter of course Mimmi Svanberg, with these warm impulses and this ^position, was a favorite in the town both with rich and poor^ nor would it amaze any on« to find that she had a great number of uncles and aunts, above forty cou- sins, and an almost incalculable number of good Mends and acquaintances who looked up to her for counsel and help in joy as well as in sorrow. ^ Much more amazing was it to many people, and to myself among the rest, that Mimmi Svanberg, warm-hearted, universally beloved, and goOd-lODkiag, should not have fixed her heart steadfastly upon sotae one, instead of moving about in an element of human love and beneficence, like a bird in the air or a fish in the water, fikding enough for herself there without desiilng anything besides. Perhaps there might lie behind some concealed cause, -which we may discover on some future day. We will now accompany her light step to a group of ladies, to whom we, a few moments ago, saw the eyes of two gentle- men directed, assaying their worth. It was thus that some young girls talked of the party at which they were assembled. "Ah, how gay it will be here ! Quite charmingly gay. But 2 26 HEBIHA. don't you think that the bride elect looks very grave, and her lover very stupid ?" "Yes; this match is, on her side, a mere money match. There was another whom she liked much better; but Von Taokjern is rich, and she has accepted him to please her family." " Poor girl ! If I had been in her case I would have had Lieutenant M. He is so handsome, and so agreeable." "Excepting when he is a little — ^tipsy, which he is some- times." "Oh, but then he is so very charming to ladies. He is so very nice ! It really becomes him to be a little ' half-seas- over.' " "I would not thank you for a husband half-seas-over, let "him be ever so charming. No, much rather Von Tackjem for me ; less charming but more sober. That will certainly be no life half seas-over, but neither will there be any ruin. I know nothing in the world worse than ruin." " There are in the world many kinds of ruin. But what does Hertha say about it ?" The young lady now appealed to was the same that we heard spoken of before, " with the fine figure, but who looked so deucedly positive." A remarkably noble person and rich golden hair 'were, in fiict, the only things which agreeably distinguished her. A cloud seemed to envelope her whole being, and gave a sort of cloudy and unpleasant air to her otherwise regular features. She sate silent and indifferent, immovable almosf as a statue, and apparently lifeless. If roses had ever bloomed upon her cheeks they had already &.ded, together with tha spring-time of youth ; a grey monotonous tint lay on her whole countenance; the eyelashes droc^ed heavily over the dark, inanimate eyes. Her dress was distin- guished by its simplicity and homeliness. It bore not the slightest superfluous ornament, yet it fitted her exquisite form with the nicest exactitude. At the words, "What does Hertha think about it ?" she slightly tui'ped her head, and said coldly : AN EVENING PABTY. _ 2T "I think it is a miserable state of things where a good and charming girl cannot have any other choice than to marry a man half-seas-over, or a man without a heart, and who evi- dently does not trouble himself much about her." The young girls laughed, and said in a low voice : "Hertha speaks plain. enough! She is not a&aid of saying what she thinks." " Afraid !" exclaimed Hertha ; " no, I -am not afraid — ^not now, at least." " But, my dear Hertha," said, anxiously, a little elderly lady, who was incessantly twiddliug her fingers as if she were wind- ing' yam, or unravelling a tangled skein, " one must think a little, though, about what people may say. Besides, just remember ! Eva DufVa has no fortune, and will Tbe so well ' provided for aU her days." " I think," said Hertha, with the same cold indiflference as before, " that it is humiliating for a girl to marry merely to be well provided for. Much more honorable would it be for her to help to provide for those whom she loves. That it seems to me is far preferable, is an honor." " Ah," returned the little old lady, vrhose countenance and whole person had a resemblance to a ravelled skein, "now Hertha is again coming out with her odd ideas." " She is quite right," said a lady in the circle '; " marriage is frequently unhappy because girls don't marry themselves to souls, or hearts, but to — purses." " No, no," sighed a pale young woman, " not to purses, but to dreams, and that is not much better,' at least for the happiness of the heart. One sees so much that is beautiful in Viim one loves ; one sees in him the ideal about which one has dreamed, and which is to elevate one to the good and the great. One fancies that one shall find a God, and one finds — " here she suddenly checked herself, while a faint crimson suf fiised her pale countenance, and she merely added — " and one finds that which one did not expect." " But, my dear Emily," said the elder lady, smiling, "if we do not find gOds in our husbands, neither do they, indeed, find 28 HEETHA. goddesses in us; Aiid men are, in a general way, much better infoEBied, and much more thoroughly educated than women,- — thdJt even you must concede, Hertha." " They know much more, perhaps," replied Hertha^ " but it is not the fault of the women that there are few things which they can leasn, and even those few so seldom thoroughly. But even then, are men more just, more reasonable, more high- minded than women. ? Do they think and act more from the innermost of life ? In a word, have they more true human culture ? " " But do women in a- geoeral way possess this ?" asked one of the ladies, in a depredating tone, " They would possess this, and might even impart it," replied Hertha, " if their feeling for the innermost of life obtained-^life, truth. But it is not, developedy and therefore both sexes remain, alike tramimelled and filndamentaUy uncul- tured," " Nay then, Hertha has a regular frenzy to-day, quite first rate ! " said the young gMa, Bnuliog. " Only think, if the gentlemen heard you ! — Tou mU certainly never be married, Hiertha." - " Well, Slnd what then ? " said Hertha, bluntly, but at the same time half smiling. " Is marriage,, in a general way, so happy in this world, that the highest happiness' may be consi- dered as being found in marriage ? " "Ah, no," said the pale young lady,, with a sigh, "but it makes us moth^s, and in that way it gives us a rich and deep experience of life, which can never be the; lot of an unmarried, childless woman." The young girls were quite silent, as if struck by the truth of these words. Hertha said, " All married women have not children. And is there not a peculiar, rich experience, a deep insight into life, which can alone be the portiontof the unmarried woman ? " Hertha's voice betrayed an inward emotion, as she conti- nued : — "If our education were not so utterly miserable, and the AN EVENTHTG PAETT. 29 object of our lives so utterly poverty-stridken aad circum- scribed ; if we were early instructed,, instead of ^eking for support out of ourselves, to seek for it in our own . breasts, in our own powers; if we were able to devote life and life's energies to great and noble purposes ; if we were permitted to listen to the inner voice, and foEow its inspirations rather than all kinds of opinions around us ; if we were allowed to do the work which we should love to do, — ^then I am certain that we should beecan^ noble and even happy, should be lawgivers to ourselves and even others." '* Good gracious ! my dear Hertfaa, do you wish that ladies should be lawyers, or perhaps attorney-generals, and sit on the high seat of justice ? " said the little old lady, working with her fingers more nervously than ever, and evidently very uneasy. ^'Not exactly so," replied Hertha, half smiling; "but rathei'''— more than that." " What more ? what more ?" asked many ladies in the group, smiling sad inquisitive, Hertha was silent for a moment, and then said, whilst a faint crimson lighted up her cheek, though the melodious voice continued calm as a tranquilly heaving wave : " In the old times it was believed that something great and deep was indweUing in woman, which «ould not be fuUy deve- lopecl unless she remained alone, alone with the Divinity. Then even women were priestesses in the service of the holy, of the divine. This belief is now lost. Now people merely wish that young girls should be ' sweet girls,' accompHshed and so on, that they may get married as soon as possible, it If atters little with whom, so that he can but provide well for his wife. This is a miserable view of hfe and of the destiny of woman, degrading to women and perhaps still more so to men. For the blame of it lies very much in womanly cowar- dice, but still more in the want of justice and high-mindedness ef man ; and he lowers hims^ in the same proportion as he lowers us," ^-* Nay, you are now going too far, dear Hertha !" exclaimed 30 BBBTHA. the little old lady, writhing in agony : " consider what you are saying. Things don't go on in this world as in le palais de la VenU. You will make yourself detested both by gentlemen and ladies." , "I know it," said Hertha, with her hands crossed, and the calmness as of a sybil. "And only think if any of the gentlemen, here heard you! they would be so angry at you ! you would never be invited to the balls. You'll be getting into the newspapers ; you'll have, like me, a lawsuit on your shoulders. It does not an- swer, speakmg one's mind so freely — you'll make yourself and aU of us unhappy." " Have yon, then, so bad an opinion of us as to bcflieve that we could not bear to hear a little keen truth ?" inquired a mild and manly voice ; and a young man, who, leaning against the window-frame, concealed from the group of ladies by the thick curtains, had heard the conversation, now came forward, took a chair, and seated himself in the circle just opposite Hertha. His handsome person, the manly, frank, and generous expres- sion of his youthful countenance, the ease and calmness of his bearing, which betrayed a certain modest assurance, or rather certainty of not displeasing ; all these, combined with the me- lodious voice, won for him immediately the cheerftd atten- tion of the whole group. He continued, addressing his remarks to Hertha : " You are perfectly right. We men are in many ways defi- cient in the deeper human culture ; but it is incumbent on the ladies to give us this ; for they have, incontestably, an inborn deeper sense of the innermost of life than we. The latest work of the Creator obtained this as her dower.", " But our legislators think quite otherwise," replied Hertha. " They regard women, at least in our country, as beings who are stDl in their tutelage ; and, precisely as a consequence of this, they frequently become weak, vacillating souls, that never, can attain to years ,of discretion, lacking faith in themselves^ I don't mf an," continued she, her cheek again tinged with a ^nt crimson, " the feith which is the oflEspring to blind self. AN EVENING PAKTT. 31 love ; many have too much of that ; I mean the faith which comes from confidence in the truth of our own being, in God's light and voice within us." "True, very true," again said the young man. "Ladies often rule more through feminine caprice and weakness, or by their outward attractions, than by their nobler powers. The greater number never imagine how they would become a thousand times more powerful if they had a pleasure in be- coming true, high-minded women seeking only the highest. Then would they elevate us with themselves.- If there were now-a-days women such as the priestesses of antiquity, female judges, vestal virgins, it is at their feet that I would sit, to their words that I would listen, as to oracles from the hoUest depths of life. And for my best knowledge and most valuable attain- ments, I have to thank women of this self-illuminating, guiding class." A light, as of the rosy dawn above the cloudy east, lit up Hertha's cheek at these words, and her eyes flashed like dia- monds, catching the rays of light, It brightened her whole countenance, whUst the httle lady at her side looked utterly amazed and confounded. Drawn on, probably as much by the bold candor and the purport of Hertha's, expression, as well as by the effect which it was evident his words had upon her, the young man con- tinued to address his conversation principally to her. He had for several years resided in foreign countries and different parts of the world, and he related various things to show the position of woman, and her influence upon different races of man- kind ; for, singularly enough, he appeared to have devoted his particular attention to this subject. Every one within the cir- cle of ladies listened attentively, and each word which he utter- ed was a question eliciting fresh light on a subject which in so many ways interested all. Hertha alone said nothing ; but the narrator seemed nevertheless to speak more especially for her. . When soon afterwards he was suddenly called, away from the circle, and this broke up, a whispering chorus was heard of, " Who is that agreeable young man ? Most amiable ; in- 32 HEETHA. teresting !■ ebarming I I am regularly in love ■wiiih him ! (N". B. It was an elderly lady who said that.) Who is he? Where does he come from? How happens it that nohody has seen him before, or even heard speak of him ?" " It happens in this way,"' said one of fhe elder gentlemen, enlightening them, " that he never before was in our neighbor- hood. His father was the proprietor of mines in Norrland, and he is now appointed as engineer to our new railroad. I don't knpw a more excellent or more promising young man than Yngve Nordin. And he is generally much liked by the ladies. But take care of your hearts, young ladies, for he is gaid to be what is called a great ladies' man, but somewhat fickle in his fancies." " I would willingly have him for my son !" said one of the .l9,dies. The Roses smiled and whispered to Hertha : " Well, stem SybiUa, what bave you to say against this young man ? I fancy that he has found grace in your eyes !" Hertha smiled with an air of indifference, and said : " He was pohte, to us." She now prepared, in company with the little, fidgety old lady, to leave the party, and her countenance again began to assume its gloomy, dissatisfied expression. Candles were lighted in the drawing-room, but it was deep twilight in the little parlor where Hertha and her companion attired themselves. "Don't forget to put your shawl on the wrong side out, Hertha," said the little old lady j " both your shawl and collar, for it wiU be damp out of doors. We have stayed a very long time. Heaven grant that papa is not angry ! Shawl on the wrong side, Hertha ! Oh, that you should have such odd notions, and talk so ! If you could but be like other people! Shawl on the wrong side — mind that I" Whilst Hertha silently and meohanioally followed the direoj tions which were thus given to her, she felt her hand kissed and wetted by a hot tear by some one whom she in the dark- ness could not distinguish. AH EVENING PAETT. 33 "Who is it?" said she softly, " that has kissed my hand?" " It is somehody who admires you," replied, softly, a sweet feminine voice, " and who wishes she had your courage !" " My courage !" said Hertha. " Oh, God keep you, Eva, from ever experien(Sng that which makes me courageous enough to^^bock human beings." She kissed the young girl and hastened into the hall, as if afraid of saying mor.e, whilst little aunt Petronilla ftmibled after her things, muttering, " Hertha ! Hertha ! now she wiU certainly forget her gloves. Hertha, where is my green bag and the tea-cake for little Martha?s nameday ! Oh that ^e should be so unguarded ! No, see, I have my bag on my arm and the tea-cake is in it ! But which way is Hertha gone ? I must always take charge of her !" The signal for breaking off the conversation, and which also seemed to have occasioned the departure of Hertha and aunt Nella, was an exclamation from Major Von Post, which again summoned gods and goddesses, good fairies, and goblins, to a general rehearsal of the ^oups and scenes of the fancy ball. " Now you must, make haste with what you have to say, my little old man, or you will be too late ;" whispered eagerly the wife of the clergyman to her husband ; " I long to be going ; I someway don't feel quite in spirits ; I don't rightly know why." The good pastor now started up and said in a strong, deep voice: " Ladies and gentlemen, divinities of Olympus and Val- halla ! will you allow a poor mortal to say a few words to you before you begin your sports, and before I take my departure ? Have I permission to speak ?" The universally beloved pastor was always willingly listened to, and " Speak," " Speak," was heard on all sides. " Ladies and gentlemen," continued the speaker, with a mix- ture of mirth and seriousness, which sometimes was changed to deep feeling, and then the voice became husky and falter- ing, as if it struggled against emotion, and a sudden paleness overspread the otherwise chUd-Uke, joyous, and open counte- nance : " Ladies and gentlemen ! we are now assembled her© 2* 34 HEETHA. to, arrange a something which it is believed will be very en- tertaining, and I believe it will be so too» I believe also that King Solomon was right when he said that there was a time for eveiy thing, and that mirth has its time and is good in itself. Bat if one could at the same time both amuse oneself and do good, then there would be a twofold advantage. I believe that this may now be done. Allow me to^ tell you how. But in the first place I must give a little inti'oduc- tion." " Now in the name of common sense what's coming ? Some Magdalen institution, or society for the encouragement of criminals !" muttered Mr. Von Tackjern, between his teeth, ■ and buttoned still closer his breast pocket. " It is both pitiable and laughable at the same time !" sigh- ed Mrs. Uggla ; and Mrs. Von Tupplander shook her feather- adorned head, and said half-audibly, "Ah, so tiresome!" The speaker continued : " Whilst we are here amusing our- selves by playing at gods and goddesses, and ordering gallons of punch and champagne for our Olympian feast, dozens of poor ragged and sometimes half-famished little children, with- out care-takers either for body or soul, — for many of them have wretched, some of them no parents at all, — are running about our town, in our streets, under our very windows. These children need guardianship, instruction; they need mothers and schools. My wife and a few other ladies have long wished, and even labored, to establish an infant ragged school into which such poor little children as these oould be received ; and they have succeeded so far as to bring about a beginning, but ah ! so small a beginning, that it is literally but an infant school, and not sufficient to receive one-third part of .the children which require care. We want a locale, we want fimds to enlarge the place and to enable us to give the poorest of the children their dinners at the sehool. Many of our good and considerate ladies here know of a certainty how great need there is to. establish some superintendence over the poor children and their homes, as well within as without the town, and thej will therefore unquestipnabl^ consider that the pro- AN EVENING PARTY. 35 position ■which I am now about to make is not ill-timed, nay rather that this is just the proper time and season in which to bring it forward. I propose therefore that all the Goddesses and Graces, that is to say, all the ladies here present, should form themselves into a Ladies'' Society to visit the homes of the poor, look after the children, and take charge of and use all their means to support the infant school ; and I further pro- pose that for the obtaining of the necessary funds for this pur- pose, the entrance-tickets for the approaching festivity njay be made chargeable with a sort of impost for the benefit of the Ladies' Society and its Infant schools. " Ladies and gentlemen ! " continued the speaker with earnestness, "many of you are perhaps not aware that at no great distance from our Olympian company, here in the town, there stands in a lane an old house, or rather a barrack, called the Great Quarter ; there, for many years, has been assembled together more misery and wretchedness than many of you have even seen during the whole of your lives, and that amidst these dregs, this scum of our town's population, live children — ^little children, ladies and gentlemen, — whom any mother's heart, here in this room, might thank God to call her own, and yet which are in the Great Quarter cast down into ' every kind of wretchedness. I sayto you, ladies and gentlemen, that this is a state of things which we ought not to tolerate, but that we must cleanse out this quarter of hell, or at least rescue the children from it, and let them come into God's light and life. It is our Christian dutyl My wife has often urged me to speak to you on this subject, and now I have done it, — and I am glad that I have ! " The little clergyman wiped the perspiration from his brow, and then continued with a smile. "It may seem a little bold to request the Muses and the Graces to cleanse out the Great Quarter, but since the day when — a God washed on earth the feet of the poor, the Olympian sisters have not regarded it as below their dignity to help in obtaining shoes and stockings for poor children, We have a good proverb, which say& f ^ quick begiqijing is db HBKTHA. half the Tyinning.' Let us therefore begin the work this vei^ day, this jeij moment. Let us here at once form a Ladies' Society." "I am intending to write a book against Ladies' Societies!" said the Protocol Secretary, N. B. "I have already collected the material." " Yes, it is these philanthropic undertakings and societies which are the ruin of us!" said Mr. Von Tackjem, whilst he buttoned yet another of his cojit-buttous. "We are never going on right; we shall become a poor- house and a hospital ! " sighed Mrs. TJggla, shaking her whole body. "He might have waited tiU my dinner, then I could have drawn out of the thing," thought •Mrs. Von Tupplander, with displeasure, shaking her head. Various gentlemen, ia the meantime, both elderly ajtjsd young, had, at the mention of "a fimd for a good purpose,^ immediately put their hands in their breast-pockets to feel for their memorandum-books; and the Countess P., who had lately come to the place, where her husband had bought a large property, and who, on account of her goodness and unassum- ing manners, made the world fprgive her beauty, rank, and wealth, ^hastened, together with Mimmi Svanberg and a fe^ other ladies, to the good pastor, thanked him, and begged him to "reckon upon them." The prevailing tone of the company, however, reijaaiAed hesita;ti^g and doubtful. People were heard to say : " It is not now the tune." — " One must think about the thing."— " After the fancy-ball one should have time to attend to the question.": — " Nov one must think about Olympus amd Val- halla, and the costumes." Tngve Nor;dip. ^aigejJ, hi} voice to ask the decision of the company respecting the sale of the tickets, and the appropria- tion of the money to the before-mentioned fund. It was agreed to with acclamation ; discussion of the main subject itself was deferred till another time, and Major Von Post'^ voip^ ^ag again hea^4 summoning gods and goddesses AN EVBNPSCG PAETT. ^ to take their places, and the arrangement of the meiTy divini- ties came into full swing. " Let us go now, my little old man," whispered the wife of the pastor to her husband, who was again wiping his hot forehead. " We have at all events obtained something, and I want to go home." "How? Are you ill?". " No, not exactly so. But I feel an anxiety, an oppres- sion! You know that I feel so sometimes. It is to me as if the very floor were burning under njy feet. By all means let us go !" "Directly, directly! Let us merely~take leave of the hostess!"' And the good married couple soon disappeared from the scene of action, tsrhere all was now in, a state of inerry confusion. 38 HBBTHA, HERE AND THERE OlST THE WAY HOME. " In a minute or two I will be with you again, but I must now accompany papa home !" said Mimmi Svariberg to her Mends, as she prepared to accompany her aged father. In the hall she found Ingeborg Uggla, waiting with her usual patience for her ill-tempered grumbling mother, who was detaiuiag Dr. Hedermann, the principal, physician of the town; a man both beloved and feared; beloved for his skill and his benevolence, feared for his epigrammatic wit, espe- cially by the ladies, to whose deceit and vanity he ascribed the degenerate state of the present generation, and whom he therefore continually attacked by his sarcasm. Mrs, Uggla had seized upon the doctor just as he left the company, and having described her cramps to hipi for the thirtieth ■ time, and received a promise of some drops, now proceeded to unburden her heart. " Is it not both pitiable and laughable at the same time with all these schemes ?" "What schemes, my gracious lady?" " Oh, the fancy-ball and ladies' society !" "The ladies' society!" exclaimed the doctor: "the most rational proposition in the world, only it has something serious about it. But it -wWl come to nothing. It will be mere playwork. Ladies have not time for such things. They have more serious business to attend toj their dress, their pleasures; their worsted-work, their housekeeping also. I believe — ^nothing will come of it — nothing, merely amusement, believe me. Good-night, ladies ! Much pleasure at the fancy- ball, and — many catarrhs and pleurisies after it ; — ^for that's generally the way ! Good-night ! " > HEEE AND THERE ON THE WAT HOME. 39 Mimmi Svanberg laughed. " The good doctor^" she said, " he has his fixed idea ! I wish we could cure him." " He hatea women," said Ingeborg, with a sigh, the depth of which, together with the expression of her eye, and her paleness, were remarked by Mimmi Svanberg, and strengthened her in the idea which she had long entertaiaed, that a deep, but unrequited sentiment attached Ingeborg to the eccentric, though really amiable and universally esteemed physician. " He is a rational man," said Mrs. Uggla, " because he believes that everything in the world gets worse and worse." " But we, with our societies, think of making everything better and better ! " said Mimmi cheerfully ; " and I calculate upon Ingeborg as a member of that which we are about to estabhsh." " Then she will certainly never get married," sighed Mrs. TJggla. " These public societies, or unions, are altogether direct hindrances to private unions." " I don't believe so,", said Mimmi ; " but if they should help us to become more active and happy human beings than hitherto without marriage, then, reaUy, there would be nothing to complain of. What do you say, Ingeborg ? " "I acknowledge," said Ingeborg, not without emotion, "that I consider a happy marriage as the happiest of all unions, and the greatest happiness upon earth; but, if this cannot be obtained, it is' then desirable to employ one's life and one's energies in another direction. And in this way ladies' societies may be very useful to those, who, like myself, are too bashful or are not active enough to undertake anything upon their own responsibility. Social life," added she, in a lower voice, as she stealthily wiped away a tear, " seems emptier and emptier the older one grows; one laughs and chatters and looks as if one were amused, but — sorrow often sits at the heart. Happy they who have a good home, and some one there to live for ! " " Oh, yes ! " said Mimmi, with a glance of tenderness at her old father ; and then, with heartfelt sympathy, she watched Ingeborg enter her own room with her mother, whose last 40 HEETHA. mutterimgs were heard to be something about V' stupid schemes," and " Sodom and Gomorrah," " Ingeborg must conie to see us ; it must be made pleaganter for Ingeborg," whispered Mimmi silently to herself., " But, how is this?" contiuued she aloud; "are not our old pastor and his wife standing there on the bridge aitd looking at the. house where we have been this evening, as if they had left something behind them ? Good evening, my friends, what is going on now ? Whai^ are you contemplating in th^ new moon ? " "I am looking back tQ the home of my childhood, to the Dufvas' house," said the pastor's wife. " I kno.w not xhy, but it seems to me as if I should never moi;e befeold it. Just here, on this bridge, there came such an extraordinary uneasi^ ness over me, and I ooald aot, h^p turning round. How splendid and gay it looks, with lights in, aU the windows." " If it does not befal our dear lady as it beM Lpt's, wife!,", said Mimmi, jokingly. " Ve now go part of the way home together, and our roa.d lies past Ijljie Gr^at Quarter, where I have business, with little ]^[ina's mother. I cannot tdl, you^ sir," said she, addressitig the clergyman, " how glad I should be to get that child out of that. Great, Rubbish Quarter. What do you say ? shall we all go and pay a; yisil; there this evening, in this beautiful moonlight ? " "But, my dear Mimmi," said the pasto^, somewhat, alarmed, "you don't remember that it is late, and that, ia the moonlight, one may happen to see things in the. Great Rubbish Quarter, which aj-e not the most edifying ia the world !" " Oh, nothing that we need trouble ourselves about ; at aU events, not in, the room which Mrs. Granberg inhabits," an- swered Mimmi, laughing; "and besides, we are a large party altogether. I should just like- to see how the Great, Quarter looks in the moonlight. Perhaps we shall not have many opportunities of seeing it much longer, as it is con- demned by the public. But where in the world are aH the old drunken women to go to, and where many of the sober HERE AND TUERB ON THE WAT HOME. 41 ones too, who live there with their children ? We must, dear pastor, build some comfortable dwellings for the more respec- table classes of the poor !" " Yes, yes ! everything in regular course ; if we can only do it ! You are so terribly energetic, dear Mimmi, and my convenience, you see, requires time !" " Your convenience," ^aid Mimrtfi, laughing, " may take its time if we only may make a beginning. And in the first place, begin with sweeping clean thfe Rubbish Quarter. It was a good idea, just this very evening, to propose the Ladies' Society I When people have settled dowp again quietly after the fancy-ball they will have time enough to think of more serious things. I hope we shall be able to get some good fel|ow-laborers. I have beien speaking to ingeborg Uggla, and have hopes of Hertha Falk. What a pity it is that she was not in the groups this evening, she would have made such a magnificent Koma or Valkyria !" " Yes," said the p8stof?s wife, " only too gloomy. Jt is wonderM how that ghi of late has grown dark and plain. I fancied that when she gr^w up she would be good-looking. But now she always looks as if she were in an ill-humor. The second sister we never see now in company. It is said that she is greatly out of health. At one time there was a talk about her being married ; but the father, peopde say, was opposed to the match." " Poor girls !" said Mimmi, now quite seriously, " they are certainly not happy at home. Their aunt was very severe to them while she lived, and the old man, people say, is both avaricious and cross. Ever since that affair ia the family they have almost entirely ceased to have intercourse with other people. The girls, nevertheless, are noble and good, espe- cially Hertha, although she is a little peculiar, a little odd ; but one seldom sees them, and they are very much attached to each other. They have also a relation, a young man who lives in the family, and who is, I fancy, a little insane. In a word, there is a plentiful growth of wormwood in that house." 42 HBETHA. " But now, see, we are at the Great Quarter. Now light your lanthorn, good Jacob, because the moon does not light the steps of the Quarter, and we must not break our legs if we can help it !" The clergyman's servant, the respectable Jacob, who at- tended his master and mistress, did as he was desired, and they ascended the steps. Professor Methodius endeavoring the while to initiate the clergyman into the first principles of his system for the improvement of society, to which the latter listened without replying a word. The narrow wooden steps led to a landing, on which were several doors. Mimmi opened one of these, as an old acquain- tance, and the party entered into a large, long room, in which no less than six families resided, one in each comer, and two in the middle. The room was lighted by the moon and one single small taUow candle, before which a middle-aged woman sat on a broken stool, mending old clothes ; upon a bench near her sat two children busy sorting rags. Th^ boy was a handsome, well-grown child; the girl, whom Mimmi called Mina, had nothing remarkable about her, except a pair of bright blue eyes, which seemed to look lovingly and gladly forth from a sickly, pale, and meagre countenance. No one could have imagined, from her expression, that her legs and feet were withered, and that she was compelled always to remain in one place, or to move herself along upon her knees. " That is our best little girl in the infant school," said Minuni Svanberg, in an under tone to the clergyman ; " and she has a voice which makes it a joy to hear her. Besides, she is such a good and contented child. When any of the other poor children have food in the school she never begs any of it, her large eyes only look so beseechingly that it really goes to my heart when there is not sufficient for her to have some, or when it is not her turn, for it is a certainty that she gets no dinner at home. The mother Good evening, Mrs. Granberg, you see that I have not forgotten you, and you shall have the boots either to-morrow morning or the morning after, so that you HKBE AUD THEEE ON THE "WAT HOME. 43 can then Bit out in the market to sell your things without your feet being frozen; thank you, thank you, Mrs. Granberg. Here is our pastor come to see you, and would like to know how you manage to provide for yourself and your children. Just teU him how you contrive." Poor Mrs. Granberg, whose eyes sparkled with gratitude in her pale, emaciated countenance, said humbly, — "How good you are to inquiire after a poor creature like me ! " She seemed embarrassed, and it was only after she had heard the familiar remarks of the pastgr's wife about health and sick- ness, &c., that she by degrees became more communicative. " Ah," said she, then, "how fortunate they^re who do not know what sickness is, and how it deprives one of one's power ! Many a time have I cried because I was not able to work and earn a bit of bread for me and my children, as I used former- ly ; but that has not been the case for some years. One trou- ble I have that I shall carry with me to the grave, and that I got before the girl was bom. It was in the depth of winter, and we lived outside the town. It was a bitterly cold and snowy winter, and we suffered great want. Granberg had been away for fourteen days, and I did not know where he was. For three whole days we had not had a morsel of bread nor a bit of meat inside the house. The child cried ; I spun, and when I got very hungry and weak I laid me down to sleep. Anxiety and hunger soon woke me again. But I would not weep nor yet give in, because of the child to which I should soon give birth, and for its sake I determined to keep in as good heart as I could. I sate down again to my spinning- wheel. At length I could bear up no longer; I took my homespun jacket, the only thing I had left belonging to better days, and went to Potter's' Anna, and asked her to take it to Stenbom's to put it in pawn, and bring me back something to eat, for we could not go on famishing any longer. " Stina went,* and soon came back again, with two cakes of bread, six-pennyworth of meal, and a herring. And we cooked, and we ate, and how good"they were. But Stina had met Granberg as she was going out, and told him how badly , 44 HBETHA. off I was ^t home ; and ke knew it well enough, aad that was just the very reason that he kept away ; he knew that there was nothing to be had. "Some days afterwards we heard that Granherg had sold the jacket at a public-house for eight lix-doUar^. But I knew nothing about it of a certainty before be came one day drunk into the room, and threw upon the floor a sack which held half a bushel of peas, and exolainied, ' See, there you have your jacket !' I then understood the whole thing, there was a noise in niy head, a rending pain in my body, and I fainted away. After that little Mina was bom — a poor little creature, ■ such as she is now, and I have never siace then had a day free from pain." ." Poor Mrs. Granberg ! " said the pastor's wife compassion- ately, but in an- undervoice, as she sighed, " My God ! my God ! " She and her husband then turned to the little girl with the bright, cheerful eyes. They asked her, if it were not weari- some to be always sittiag. " Oh, yes," rephed the child, " it would be a deal nicer if I cotild run and jump about, hke the other children; but I can always amuse myself, as it is ! " " She is always so cheerful," said her mother, with a me- lancholy smUe, "she has been sitting to-day for a little while at the- top of the stairsj and heard the lark sing ; and then her geranium's coming into flower. She has always something to be pleased about. She would sing all day long like a bird, if only, poor child, I could feed her better. But since »he has gone to the infant school she is, for all that, very happy ! " "'Hie Ahnighty has blessed the child for your sake, and he will bless you through the child ! " said the pastor with emotion. , Whilst the good couple were talking with Mrs. Granberg, Mimmi Svanberg had silently stolen away into 'a corner, where a poor woman suffering from cancer lay upon a straw mattress. She had helped to lay her on her bed, and to dregs her gore. She had for some time attended her thus as a nurse. HERE AlTD THERE ON THE "WAY HOME. 46 In the meantime the. other inhabitants of the room were all in movement, thronging around the pastor and his wife, some of them with pitiful stories, and some of them evidently, in a state of liquor. " Now let us go," said Mimmi Svanlberg to her friends ; " you must talk another time with the pastor, good people. You can very well understand that it is now too late. We must all go to bed. Good night ! good night ! " Once more in the street,- she said, — " Take care now, dear pastor, that Gh-'anberg has some help from the guardian of the poor. She is weU deserving of it, is she not?" " Tou artful Misimi ! " said the pastor,- jokingly threaten- ing her with his cabe. " "I'll lay any wager that you had that design in your head aU the time, and fooled me up those steps, where I was very near losing iny balance and falling backwards,, just on purpose to accomplish it ! Ay, you are an excellent one! Confess, now, that you did it on speculation!" " Yes, that I did ! " said Mimmi, laughing heartily • " I knew that my good pastor could not resist, if he saw the thing brought before his own eyes ; and the guardians of the poor do well to go among them a little." " Get along with you! Yes, if he have anything to give. You don't know, not you, how he is beset ; and of a truth I cannot see the bottom of this increasing misery, nor tell what will be the end of it,,if active ladies do not come to our rescue, and take charge of poor families and children, so that there may be some order and improvement, and if they do not make us better acquainted with the people so that we ca,n separate the- goats from the sheep." " Yes, that is indeed exactly what we will do with our Ladies-societies," said Mimmi Svanberg gaily, " we will sepa- rate between Mrs. Granberg, who is an invalid and A good woman and mother, and Mrs. Bergstrom, who is a wretched ditto, and teaches her children to beg and to steal ; we wiQ- endeavor to raise up the one, and look after the other and her children. But then comes the Protocolsrseeretary, N.B., and 46 HBK^A.- writes a book against Ladies' societies, and makes a dead-set at us." , "He will not do it," said the pastor, "or else I wiU write a sermon against him and the Philistines." " Let him write, and let us act," said the pastor's wife, " that will be the best. Don't forget, dear Mimmi, that you pro- mised to come and help me to dress the bride in the morning. It will be about noon, and you will stay and diae with us." "Yes, if I may only go away in the afternoon, for I pro- mised to help the Dahlstroms with the funeral, and after that I am to be god-mother at Palmstjernas; they have got such a nice little boy — a great joy in the family." " And now see, we are at home. I shall bring with me a flowering myrtle-branch for the bride. Good night ! Don't forget, dear pastor, poor Granberg and little Mina." Ten minutes later, Mimmi Svanberg was with her father, who, wrapped in his large, flowery dressing-gown^ seated in his easy chair, at his writing-table, absorbed in the labyrinth of Ms system, and involved in a cloud of Havanna a:mbrosia, was as happy as any professor possibly could'be, who saw an amend- ed and a happier world shining through its fragrant and trans- parent haze. Happy in his way, he kissed his daughter, and said from the depths of his heart, " You are my own child, that you are — you take after your father — you desire to make your feUow-creatures happy. If you had only a method. But you are deficient in method, my child. "Well, well, every bird sings according to his bill, and every one has his own way." "And all ways lead to Rome," said Mimmi, laughing. " And there we shall certainly meet, papa, dear, if not before. And now I must return for a short time to the Dufvas' to make my appearance as Pax Domestica, with a great broom in my hand, to endanger people's domestic peace. That will make a sen- sation ! But I shall see papa yet again before morning." "We must now go back an hour of time in the evening, and accompany Hertha and Aunt Petronella, or Nella, on their way home from the evening party ; Aunt Nella keeping up. an incessant patter of small talk in this style : H£B£ AND THEKE ON THE WAY HOME. 47 " To think that you will never learn to be prudent and to act and talk like other people !" " I don't wish to be like other people," said Hertha. , " Yes, that is just the misfortune. What can be the use of being different to everybody else ? "What can be the advan- tage of saying everything that onp thinks, as if one was in le Palais de la^ Verite ? It only vexes people and leads to anger. You'll be getting a lawsuit on your shoulders, just as I have for my honesty's sake ; I wish that you would take warning by my example. Then you might escape all the entanglement that I am involved in, and that everlasting waiting, Uke me, for a summons." Here Aunt Nella stopped, because Hertha stopped as she said, " I must go up to Amalia for a moment." " To Amalia !" exclaimed Aunt Nella, horrified, " and you know that the Director has forbidden any of us to have inter- course with her !" " Kevertheless, I must see her this evening ; I have some work for her, and she needs it. Go quietly onward, dear aunt, I wiU soon overtake you." " liTo, ah, no ; that I dare not — dare not go along the street alone at this time of night, no. I would rather than that go up with you to her, if you must go ; but " Hertha had already gone into the house and knocked softly upon the door, of a room, within which a faint light had been seen in the street, shining through a curtained window. After knocking she said softly, " It is I, Amaha ; open the door." "I'U not go in," said Aunt Petronella, angrily ; "I'll neither compromise nor involve myself, by going to such — " The door opened, and Hertha entered. It was a yottng woman of fine figure, and even of an agreeable appearance, who opened the door ; but her eyes seemed heavy and red, and a bitter expression gloomed the whole countenance. "You come, nevertheless, Hertha," said she, with emotion. " You do not forget me." " No, never ; see, there is some work, Amalia, at least for a week ; you wiQ be well paid. It is for Eva Dufva ; and 48 HERTHA. there is some bread and some cakfe. It was given me; it is, mine, and you can take it without hesitation. You have cer- j . tainly had nothing to eat to-day." " No ; but that does not matter. I have had food for the poor little fellow ; it would have been harder to have been without Work. Then one's heart gets so heavy, and one is so sad. But now — God bless you, Hertha !" It was a httle poverty-stricken room in which this conversa- tion took place. All within it, however, was neat and well kept ; beside the bed stood a cradle, in which lay a sleeping child. Hertha approached the cradle, whilst she said, > " If I could do all for you that I would, Amalia, you should never either want work or bread ; but I am able to do so ' little." " God bless you for your good-will, and for never upbraid- Uig or despising me, as others do. Oh ! it is so bitter ; so very, very bitter, to be despised, and to know that one de- serves it. When I think of what I waS, and what I might have been, it almost drives me Jnad." - " Your fault is small, Amalia, in comparison with his, who misled you and deceived you. Yoff lov^d him, but he did not love you." " Yes, if I had loved him micch, Hertha', then I would have excused anyself more ; but I only loved him sufficiently to he easily ^weak ; if I had only had somebody or something to strengthen me ! It was levity, curiosity, youthful impulses which made me unfortunate ; it was the want of something better to fix my feelings, my thoughts upon. My heart was fuU, my Ufe so poor, my brain and my'ftiture so empty ; I wished to experience the feelings of life, if only for a moment ; — ^Ah, I httle thought that I shduld have afterwards to drink its dregs during the whole remainder of my days ! And if you had not sustained me, I cotild not have borne it !" " You must bear it, Amalia," said Hertha, with sorrowful earnestness, " you are a mother : you must live and work for your child's sake ; and you will do it, I know, and I love you for it 1" HEEE AND THERE ON THE "WAY HOME. 49 "Yes, Hertha ! For this child have I worked and starred, and starved and worked ; and my only consolation is that I stand before God and man such as I am ; that I have conceal- ed nothing, evaded nothing, either responsibility or penalty. Yes," she continued, rising and directing a fixed gaze on her sleeping child, "I wiU be a mother, I wiU live and work, so that no want and no neglect may be the lot of my child ; but ^I feel myself weaker of late, and — if I should die !" " Then is your child mine !" said Hertha, seizing Amalia's hand ; " and so long as I live and can work, it shall want for nothing. Of that, be certain, Amalia ; and if the world casts stones at you, I will defend you, and say that you were a good mother ; that you were worthy of esteem, because you had the courage to bear the scorn and contempt of society by keeping yqur child with you and living for it, like a true mother ; and I have not words to tell you how I despise those who depreciate and condemn you. I honor you for it, Ama^ lia ; and if I were free and could ••" "I know, I' know; and don't say anymore. I cannot tell you how it consoles, how it strengthens! me, that you approve of my conduct in this respect. It wiU',give me new courage to live and suffer and to resist temptations; -for oh, this soli- tude and want of occupation are terrible ! Hertha, do not for- sake me ! " "Never!," replied Hertha, and pressed Amalia's hand as she added, " I will come again very soon ; but I must go now. I hear aunt coughing, and my father expects me. But, Amalia, expect me soon again ! " Hertha found Aunt Nella, who was waiting in the passage, in a very excited state. "You wiU compromise both yourself and me," said she, angrily, "what will people think, what wiU people believe, fi-om such visits, at this time of night ? It will bring me into a thousand difficulties. Besides, it has kept us so long, and the Director will be so very cross! And Heaven knows what new accusations my enemies may advance against me when the cause comes to be heard I Oh I oh! " so HEKTHA. Thus talked and sighed the poor lady the whole way. Hertha answered not a word, and by her expression no one would have suspected that she heard a single syllable ; and the truth is, that the talk about the enigmatical lawsuit brought about by one or more mysterious enemies — aU gentlemfin— and the incessant danger in which Aunt Nella stood, by reason of its protracted hearing, had so often sounded in Hertha's ears, that she was accustomed to listen to it, as one listens to the dissonance of a barrel-organ.for ever playing the same piece, with a certain submissive suffering, in expectation of its some time ceasing. It was an evening towards the end of March, and the heavens shone brigbt with stars above the grey ice-clad earth. Hertha's glance was raised with a gloomy expression to. this brilliant heaven, and then it fell upon the frozen ground on which she was walking with a weary, h^avy step. She seemed to be drawing a comparison between the twb, and to be think- ing with the poet Henrik Wergeland : Stars 1 if ye could only see AH earth's silent misery, Oh ! then in the heavene nightly Ye could not shine forth so brightly ? Her steps and Aunt Nella's tongue stopped at the same moment. They had now reached — THE OLD HOUSE. Reader, has it not sometimes happened to thee, as thou wert -wandering in our towns, to cast thine eyes upon a house from which they were involuntarily repelled with an implea- sant impression, unless they became riveted upon it with that kind of interest which is produced hy dark mysteries ? The house may be well-built, with its two or three stories, and yet have a certain dark and ruinous appearance. It is flecked and blotched with grey, and a sickly yellow-green, wherever the plaster has fallen off", or is damp-stricken. N"o flowering plants are to be seen in the windows, from all of which seems to look forth a something dark and brooding. The tiles of the roof are also dark, some broken and decayed, others moss- grown. The steps look as if nobody gave themselves the trouble to sweep them o/keep them clean. Whichever way you turn your eyes, they are met by some Dl-oonditioned feature. There is a something dead, a something divested of beauty and of life, about the place. You may be certain that many silent sighs are breathed forth daily iu such a house ; many bitter unseen tears are shed, and tortured hearts beat, beat as though they would burst the dark, imprisoning walls, in vain ! The old house stands there, like a dark mystery closing its walls around the burning strife and agony of the living soul from one ten years' end to another, hiding them from the eye of the world. The pro- foimd drama of human life goes on within it ; the child is born, brought up, developed, loves, yearns, longs, suffers, and withers away. The old house speaks not a word about it. It silently conceals the mysteries of fimaily life from the cradle to the coffin, with, all its unspeakable bitterness, its corroding 52 HEBTHA. rust, which eats into the heart, as the old song says, and the world around has no idea of it. It merely has an idea that "wormwood grows in that house." At times, however, these internal corroding disorganiza- tions, these secret agonies, the measure of which has been heaped up to over-flowing, burst forth, and then something terrible occurs. Husband is murdered by wife, or wife by husband, or child by the pa,rent, or an incendiary fire takes' place which "destroys the old house, and spreads desolation far around ; and these reveal, now and then, the dark mysteries of the old house to the world. Tattling tongues are thrust forth from every window ; the walls talk for the first and per- haps for the last time. There is then an end of the old house ; that which remains is a ruin. Sometimes the house still remains, but shunned of aU who would choose for themselves a dweUing. For such houses are said to be haunted. Some uneasy ghost walks there. But long before it arrives at that stage, the old house stands froin one ten years' end to another, silent and dark, as a moss- grown graveyard, whilst living hearts slowly bleed to death within it. There are many such houses in the world, though not many with such good cause as the old house before which we are now standing. In the lobby. Aunt NeUa made a hesitating pause, and said : " If— perhaps — ^if I might escape going up to my brother- in-law ! — ^I am quite sure that we have stopped . over our time, and he will certainly be so angry! — If you would say " " I shall say that you were tired, and obliged to rest !" said Hertha. "Go to my sisters, aunt dear, and give my love to them. I will give a kind greeting to papa from aunt !" And with these words Hertha sprung up-stairs. " Well, if you think you can manage it so ; then — ^but where is she ? — ^Well, well, if she ever is plagued with a law- suit, as I am, she will not be so nimble-footed I" THE OLD HOUSE. 58 And sighing and twiddliag the strings of- her reticule, Aunt Nella trotted across the court to another part of the house, Hertha was very soon obhged to moderate her pace, because there was no light on the stairs, and it was very dark. On the second flight of stairs she was met by a youth carrying a candle, and who advanced towards her with agi- -tated haste. " Hertha — cousin — ^what a long time you have been ?" and the light of the small candle, which was stuck crookedly into an old brass candlestick, feU upon the figure of a tall, but not strong youth, the mass of whose dark hair had a dis- ordered appearance, whilst his eyes, deep-seated under a broad but low forehead, glanced forth with an unsteady, uncertain gaze. There was something gloomy and bewildered in the whole appearance of the youth, and his voice was rough, as if breaking, although he seemed to be about twenty years of age. " Have I been so very long, dear Rudolph ?" said Hertha Hndly and calmly. " What o'clock is it?" " Certainly twenty minutes past eight. Uncle sits with his watch in his hand " " Give me the caudle, Rudolph ; you drop the tallow on the stairs. Let us go in. Has it been a very tedious evening ?" " Most dreadfully tedious !" "It is my &.ult. I ought not to have stayed so long. — Help me ! — Thank you, I'H take off my over-shoes myself; but my cloak — ^thank you, Rudolph! I'll keep my shawl 'on. It is so cold here ! — " They stood in a large desolate room, lighted merely by the thin candle crookedly placed in the brass candlestick. Hertha shuddered involuntarily as she cast a long glance round the gloomy room in which fire seldom burned. " Let us go in together !" continued she, and advanced reso- lutely towards a door on the left, in the large room. As she put her hand on the lock, she involuntarily paused a moment 64 HERTHA. whilst she drew a deep hreath ; she tihen opened the door and went in. Here, in a frugally-furnished room, was merely one person, and that a man. He sat on a sofa just opposite the door, with a table before him, on which two candles were burning. His feet were wrapped in ftaunel, and he held a gold watch in his hand. There was was no possibility of mistaking who he was. He was the master of the house and the bugbear of the - He was a slender and rather small man ; his features were regular and well-defined ; his hair, steel-grey and bristly, stood straight up from his high and commanding forehead ; and be- neath the dark, bushy eye-brows lay a pair of large, dark-grey eyes, whose stem and angry glance was now fixed upon Hertha. " You've stayed over your time !" said Director Falk, in a fierce voice, to his daughter. " It is twenty-two minutes past eight by my watch. What made you stop so long ?" "I did not know what time it was; — I forgot!" replied Hertha coldly. " Forgot !" burst forth the Director, " forgot ! Is that any excuse ? Ought people to forget their duty ? That, perhaps, you think nothing of; or think, perhaps, that it is beautiful, noble, independent ! That I know is according to those mo- dem theories of which you are so fond ; according to the laws of female emancipation, I suppose, by which you will emanci- pate yourself from obedience to parents ? Forgot, indeed ! One of these fine days you'U be forgetting that you have a father, or that you have any duties at all to perform towards him. Forgot ! — and you tell me so in that obstinate way, as if you had a; right to demand whatever you liked, and in whatever way you choose, without any reference to me. But I will be master in my own house ! I will have obedience there and subordination ! I'll be d d a thousand times, if I will- bear to have my people one time after another disre- garding my orders, and forgetting the time which I fix for them. I know what I will, and I will have my will ! And I wiQ have my own will to be law in my own house I I won't THE OLD HOUSE. 55 endui-e to have people forgetting what I have said to them above a hundred times. And more than a hundred times have I said that I would have the gate locked at eight o'clock in the evening, and I would not, on any pretence, have it open after eight; and, therefore, you ought to be at home at eight precisely every evening : before eight, or at eight pre- cisely ! Have you heard that before now, or not ?" " I have heard it !" replied Hertha, as before. " Very well ; then be so good as to act accoi"dingly, or I win have the gate locked and barred every afternoon, and you shall not so easily get out to any of your pleasure parties, which m^ke you forget your duties at home." " But why must it be precisely eight o'clock ?" asked the young man in a grunting, ill-tempered voic,e. " Why ? you scoundrel ! Because I will have it so, and that to the minute. That is enough, I hope, or what next ? Bah ! What must you be mumbling for ? Keep your foolish tongue within your teeth, till people speak to you ! Don't you be meddling in that which is no business of yours. You've nothing to say on the subject! If you had not been my ne- phew, r would long since have turned you out of doors, you good-for-nothing, you ! Write and count a little you can, and that little you have learned of me ; but sense you have none, and that neither I nor anybody else could ever drive into you ! You are, and will remain to be, a clown all your days, and fit for nothing but to eat the bread of charity ! And if ever you mix yourself up again in things that don't concern you, I'll — give you a good dressing ! My feet are cursedly weak, but my hands, thank God, are active enough, and that you shall have some experience of! Be silent ! I have not talked to you, but to Hertha !" "Rudolph is a good lad!" said Hertha, with a flashing glance, " and will some day be a clever man ; and able to pro- vide for himself, without being obliged to eat the brtead of charity. Even now, he is very useful in the counting- house !" " To whom are you 'saying that !" shouted the Director 56 HEETHA. turmng to hia daughter ; " are you going to teach me ? Do you understand such things better than I do ? Now, reaUy the pretension of young women is going too far. One thing, however, I will advise you, and that is, to keep to your spin- s' iiung-wheel and your housekeeping affairs; for more than that neither you nor any other woman in the universe understands. Thank God, if they can understand what is before them. Shoemaker, stick to your last ! I won't allow any one to en- croach upon iny rights. But now-ardays women "will mix themselves up in everything, and therefore everything goes wrong. There's such a deal of talk about this genius ! and this genius ! and this must be an artist, and that a book-keep- er, and that an author, or a professor, or some other great thing ! Cursed talk, altogether ! I wish that they were real kitehen-geniuses ! then they would at least do something use- fhl in the world. But now they are too grand for that-^Hear en help us ! — ^must live for a higher object, be fellow-eitizen- esses, or some foUy or other 1 It provokes me only to think of it : and so long as I live, and am master in my- own house, my daughters shall not make a spectacle of themselves to the whole world with any such stupidity, but shall attend pi'oper- ly each one to her own business. I wiU not tolerate any modem notions about freedom and emancipation ia my house." Thus the Director continued to scold, turning towards his •daughter, who, from the moment when he again addressed her, stood quite silent, pale and immovable, her dark eyes riv- eted upon him with an expression of dieep inward suffering, which sometimes seem.ed transformed into hatred and defi- ance. But not a syllable passed her pale lips. Rudolph again sat down by the wall, with his -head drooped upon his breast, his usual attitude, and his now darkly gleaming eyes fixed alternately upon the Director and Hertha. This painful scene was interrupted by the old servant, Anna, who came in to say that supper was ready. Aunt Nella now made her appearance, together with two quite yoimg girls of twelve or thirteen years of age. Aunt THE OLD HOUSB. 57 Nella made her salutation in an embarrassed manner, and busily twisted and twirled her reticule-strings. The girls made their curtseys very diffidently, and did not advance beyond the door, when they saw their fiither's angry and excited ap- pearance. He in the meantime called them up to him, and seemed to become somewhat mollified whilst he looked at them; asked them some questions, fiUiped their noses, and called them names, which made them blush up to, their ears, and fiUed the eyes of one of them with tears. Then they were called " simpleton" and " fool," and " cry- baby," which caused the fountain of tears, so plenteous and so easily excited at their age, to overflow, which provoked a fresh ebulhtion of sneers — "What's the meaning of this? Cursed sentimentality. I'll have nothing of that sort : I won't allow it. If you can do nothing but cry, you may go your way and amuse yourselves the best you can. Can't your aunt teach you sometl^ng better than crying? Can't she teach you to be rational girls and not simpletons ? "They are yet so young, so sensitive," stammered Aunt NeUa. " Oh, bah, sensitive !" said the Director. " The devil take your feelings and your sensibility, which is nothing but cursed nonsense ! It is so beautiful and so affecting to be so sensi- tive, and to sit and sigh and read novels, and cry and pout at everything, and be displeased with the whole world, and make themselves unhappy about nothing. But I will not have my daughters brought up in this way. I will have them made useM and practical human beings, and not to live in dreams ajid nonsense. I will have nothing to do with any such thing. Do you hear me? Mind, then, that we have no more grimaces. Now come and sit down to table." Old Anna had just said that dishes were at the table. The Director, supported upon the arm of the faithful old servant, and by a stick, limped out into the dining-room, followed by the others in silence. Two tallow candles, stand- ing upon the table, dimly liglited the large dart room. 3* 58 H£BTHA. " How pleasant it is to have light here !" whispered Ra- dolph to Hertha. , ,, " What's that ? — ^What are you saying ?" asked the Dirge- tor, turning upon him a pair of threatening eyes. Rudolph .^"^■wered before them, as it were, and was silent. "I believe that you'll be Kvely enough !" said the Director; *'and — there's that for you! Be less -Bimble with your tongue, and have more sense another time." And Rudolph received a blow on the cheek, which made a buzzing in his ears. Hertha's eyes flashed fire at this, and , Aunt Nella began to cry. ' " Oome, come, no nonsense!" said the Director; "sit down to table. Where is Alma, why does not she come up ?" " She is not well ; she is gone to bed,?' replied Aunt Nella, who tried to swallow her tears in a glass of beer posset. " Cursed nonsense !" mumbled the Director again ; but as when the thunderbolt has fallen the storm gradually abates, so now the Director's ill-humor seemed to have discharged itself, and a certain depression took its place. He seemed as if he wished to dissipate it by talking on indifferent subjects, ^ but he received either monosyllabic replies, or no reply at all, if his remarks were not put in the form of questions. The frugal meal was very soon ended; no one seemed to have enjoyed it, excepting Rudolph, who ate ravenously, and the Director, who seemed to take his usual basin of wine-gruel with his usual appetite. When they all rose from table, the Director said a short "Good night" to Aunt Nella, who curtsied, twisting the while the strings of her reticule, and to the little gu-ls, who went forward and kissed their father's hand, while they "thankied him for a good meal," and said "good night." His glance rested gloomily and joylessly upon the children, who seemed to wish to get away. "Oh, how unbearable it is here," whispered the spirited little Martha to her sister Maria ; " I would positively marry at night if I were only sure of waking a widow the next morning." THE OLD HOUSE. S9 " Hush ! hush ! don't talk so," admonished Aunt Nella, as she prepared to leave the room with the children. Hertha and Rudolph had already accompanied the Director. " Set out the table and give me the cards," said he. Rudolph brought a round table which he pl^ed before the , sofa, and Hertha laid upon it a well- worn pack of cards, and they sat down to a three-handed game. A more lifeless and joyless card party could hardly be conceived. Hertha played mechanically ; she was very pale, and spoke coldly and with constraint the words which the game required. Rudolph, again, made continual mistakes, which gave the Director occasion to be almost continually scolding him. Excepting in this way, not a word was spoken. They did not play for mouey. The Dureetor seemed pleased with winning the game, which he almost .always did, because the others played ill or without interest. Thus were spent two hours. The Director then looked at his watch and said, " It is now eleven, we may close." Rudolph and Hertha silently pushed away their chairs, carried away the table, and put the cards aside. " Good night, Rudolph ; you can go to bed," said the Director coldly. " Hertha, stay, I wish to speak to you." Rudolph bowed sullenly and left the room, after he had (Sast a lingering glance at Hertha. Father and daughter were now alone ; there was a deep silence, each seemed to wait for the other to speak first. At length the Director said : — " Hertha, you have failed in duty to your fathei-. Do you not think you should beg his pardon ? " Hertha made no reply. Her heart was fuU of stormy feel- ings and bitter words. She was afraid of speaking lest she s'hould say too much. The Director continued in a milder voice : " L desire nothing but the best interests of my children. I ftilfil my duty to them, and I djesire only that they should ftilfil theirs towards me — shoTild show me obedience and grati- tude." 60 HEBTHA. Again there -was no reply. Astonished at Hertha's sLlenoe, the Director looked inquiringly at her, endeavoring to inter- pret the peculiar expression of her countenance, in the same way that we puzzle over a diflScult riddle. Many thoughts and feelings seemed to be working there ; some seemed wish- ftil to find expression, hut were opposed by others, which said, " It is not worth while ; he cannot, he will not understand." In the meantime there was something in the milder voice and countenance of her father, together with his suffering state, which seemed to touch her deeply, and she merely, saidiwith melancholy seriousness, as she bowed her head, " Good night, my father." The Director looked at her and extended his hand for her to kiss, for it was the custom ia his house, morning, noon, and evening, for the children to kiss the hand of their father. For some years, however, this old usage of childish reverence had become oppressive to Hertha, because her heart was not in it, and this eveniag it was an impossibility to her. She repeated merely in a constrained voice, " Good night," bowed her head as a parting salutation, and went out, saying, " I will send in Anna." The outstretched hand remained thus for a moment, then it was clenched convulsively ; a dark, angry red flushed the palecoimtenance of the Director, and he exclaimed :, — " Tlie devU take their notions of emancipation." He sat silently staring with the expression of an enraged beast until the faithful old servant, Anna, came in to help her master to his bed. She had lived in the. family more then twenty years, was accustomed to speak her thoughts, and the Director listened to her more' than to any one else in the house ; he was in the habit of speaking more confidentially with her than with any othe^ being in the world. Now, therefore, fi-om the necessity of unburdening his heart after the scene which had just qccurred, he began : — , "Things are getting madder and madder than ever in. this world." THE OLD HOrSE. 61 "Yes, yes; but — " said Anna, who was somewhat of a mis- anthrope, "the older people get, the worse they get." "That I don't know," said the Director angrily, "but this I do know, that young girls get more and more unreasonable in their demands, and more and more disobedient and un- grateful to their fathers." "Yes, yes, but, poor things, — their lives are not so very amusing either." "Amusing ! — Why should they be amusing ? It is better for young girls that their lives should be dull than amusing. It teaches them to be serious, industrious, and domestic." " Yesi but I don't think it would do any great harm if they had a little amusement at the same time. I don't mean any giddy sort of amusement, but something pleasant to think about and wish for, and which would enhven them, and give them a sort of outlet. For life is very heavy, and very narrow sometimes for us women." " Oh, nonsense. What do you want ? What do my daughters want? Have they not everything which they require — whether of clothing or of food,? " "Yes, certainly — ^yes, certainly. But look you. Director, this is my way of thinking, — ^young people must have some- thing to live for; something which is their own, and which they can improve ; yfes, something certainly to think about and occupy themselves with for the future. Look you, I am only a poor woman-servant, but I have my own certain oc- cupation for every day, and my own certain wages for every year, which I can do just as I like with ; some of it I can put every year into the Savings' Bank for my old age, or else to help a friend. And I believe that every human being ought to have his own, and liberty to do with it as he likes ; because that leads to peace and contentment." "You are right, inasmuch as it applies to those who have attained to mature years, and can properly take care of them- selves, and that which, belongs to them," said the Director. " But young, girls cannot do that. They are mere children. If they had anything of their own, and liberty to do what they 62 HEETHA. liked with it, there would soon be an end of it. Precisely because I wish my girls to have some time something to ma- nage, and live upon, and not be dependent on others when, they get old, precisely for this reason must I manage and save for theni. And so I Aall continue to do even if they are ua^ grateful. I know, however, that one day they wiU be thank- ful to me." "Yes, but Director, I still think that MaruseU Ahnaand MamSeE Hertha are old enough and sensible enough to be able to manage for themselves." "You don't understand it. I know better. Alma is a good girl, but too weak to be able to take care of herself. And Hertha is a headstrong, self-willed girl, who needs to remain under guardianship all her days.^' " Nay, look now, I say that the Director does her a great injustice ! " exclaimed Anna, with the boldness of a faithful old servant-; "and her deceased ladyship HSrd did not under- stand her any better. But this I say, that though she has a, head and a will of her own, yet that she is reaUy an uncom- monly clever young lady, and does .not deserve injustice, and eould manage both a town and a nation, if it came to that. She has not been at all like anybody else ever since she was a child, and. may be a little peculiar and proud, but so good- hearted and so noble-minded, so reasonable — " "It was you and her mother who spoiled her, with talking in that way," interrupted the Director. "She is stubborn aad self-willed, I fay, and needs discipline. It does not do for girls to have their own will or to be l^^lr own advisers. And it is now, as it has been, my will that my daughters shall direct themselves according to my will, and not say or do anything which is contrary to it. I am master of my own house, I hope, and they are my children, and that's positive ! If my daughters are wise they will find it best to obey their father." " But if they should die ?" "What do you mean ?— Wliat are you talking about?" said the Director violently, " why should they die ?" "Ay, I believe, that — MamseU Aitaa.will not be very long THE OLD HOUSE. 6U in this world. I believe that sorrow has taken very deep hold upon her." " It is your foolish fancy and superstition," said the Director, as before. " What is amiss with her ? Is she not in every day to dinner, the one day like another ? I see no change in her." " But she does not come up in the evenings any longer, and she looks so deathly of late. And I know that she has got no Bleep the greater part of the night, ever since " , " Stupid stuff ! stupid fancies !" again interrupted the Direc- tor angrily. " She has been somewhat complaining for some time. But the doctor sees her twice in the week, and she win soon be better. But if any of the gu-ls ^complain you think directly that they are in the agonies of death. It is nothing but stupid superstition ! Now then, help me into bed, and give me over that little chest." > Old Anna was affronted by the' often repeated accusation of " stupidity," and said not another word, doing only, as a machine, that which her master desired her. He now there- fore dismissed her, saying coldly : " Good night ! see that the fire is carefully taken down in the kitchen, and don't leave till it is all black on the hearth. Do you hear ?" When the Director was left alone, he opened, half sitting- up in bed, the little chest or cash-box, and his wrinkled angry countenance grew brighter, as he opened, examined with the candle, and again folded together various small strips of paper. After that he smiled with satisfiiotion, and said half aloud to himself: " Not so bad ! not so bad ! Old Falk is a weU-to-do man ; a well-to-do man, a substantial feUow, a rich man. Ay, ay ; nobody shall look down upon him ! People rfiall take their hats off to him — a rich man !" And so saying he laid the chest under the pillow, extinguish- ed the lamp, and turned himself to sleep, whilst his thoughts repeated to him, like a lullaby, " A rich man ! A ridh man !" And no warning voice whispered in his ear, " Thou fool ! this night shall thy soul be required from thee !" 64 BEBTHA. THE SISTERS, ft When Hertha left her father's chamber, ghe found Ru- dolph in the dining-room, who stood as if waiting there, "with the now nearly burnt-down candle in his hand. He advanced towards her, flourishing the candle as he said : — " Hertha, will you-— will y ou ? Say only a word ;. I will do whatever you wish !" , \ " What do you mean ?" asked Hertha astonished. "It is so cold here ! Don't you think that it is very cold now ? — cold ! I saw you shiver. Do you know, I believe^ that it never will get any better !" " Go to bed, Rudolph, you'll be warm there. Go to bed, poor Rudolph, and sleep, and dream and forget. Good night, dea» Rudolph !j' " I will light you down, Hertha." " Kot this evening, Rudolph. I will light myself. Give me your candle for to-night and let the moon be your lanthorn into your garret, thus you can oblige me, Ru- dolph." " I'll go with you for all that," said Rudolph, " because something might happen to you on the stairs !" And he at- tempted to put his arm round her waist. Hertha pushed him. gently away, and said in a determined manner, " I will go alone, Rudolph. I can light and help my- self. Good night, Rudolph." She went, locking the door behind hier. Rudolph stood a mOment silent and moody, muttering to himself — " Well, well, she'll have to fly to me for help some time — before she thinks !" and passed through another door from the THE SISTBKS. €» dining-room, which led by a winding staircase up to his own chamber in the attics. Hertha went down two flights of stairs, to the lower story, and into the court. The Director's chamber faced the street and was at the other end of the house. Hertha entered a Uttle stone passage, upon either side of which was a door. She knocked softjy upon the one to the left. It was opened by Aunt Petronella. " Are my little sisters still awake ?" asked Hertha softly. " Hertha, Hertha, is it you ?" cried the young fresh voices from the inner room. " Ah, come, come, and tell us some- thing about the ball and the costumes, Hertha." " Not this evening, but in the morning, my darlings," said Hertha, as she bent over her sisters' beds, whilst her neck was clasped by their young arms. " I am come to say good night to you, and give you a few sweetmeats from the great enter- tainment at the Dufvas'." / " Thanks, thanks, you dear, naughty Hertha ! Good night ; now dream some wonderful dream that you can tell us to-mor- row morning at breakfest !" Hertha's dreams were celebrated in the family, and had constituted for some years the most remarkable incidents in this secluded family, nay, even their principal pleasures. Hertha promised to pay particular attention to her dreams this night. Aunt NeUa had sat, before Hertha's entrance into the room, deeply absorbed over a large portfolio, and, amid a mass of letters, scraps of newspapers, patterns of collars and needlework, verses, and every variety of paper-article lying together in the utmost confusion, was endeavoring to cateh hold of and bring together the ravelled thread of that threat- ening, mysterious lawsuit which was hanging over her head. The endeavor seemed hopeless to uninitiated eyes, but Aunt Nella, who had all her days found an exquisite pleasure in un- ravelling tangled skeins, seemed not to have any doubt about being able to accomplish it, and yet fully to bring to light the mysteriously intriguing enemy, who most frequently showed himself as an indefinite, but prejudiced and offended gentle- 66 HEETHA. man, whoui Atint Nella in her youth had had the misfortune to stumble against. A yarringles stood. near her, upon -which was a tangled sifein of yarn, the threads from which had be- come entangled among the papers of the portfolio ; all seemed to become more and more perplexed ; the old lady, however, comforted herself by the entanglement on the yarringles, in the hope, as she said silently to. herself, that the one ravel might help the other., Nor was it a bad idea either : Aunt Nella's countenance and her law-prospects brightened considerably, as she, with pidmirable patience and even skill, opened a way for the thread through aU the knots and the labyrinths of the skein ; and still, as more and more the whole was subdued- into order, and the winding went on uninterruptedly, and the skein diminished on the yarringles, hghter and brighter became her state of mind, and more and more hopeful her thoughts of the ultimate issue of the impending lawsuit. When Hertha, therefore^' came in from her sisters', the old lady having laid aside her portfolio for the tangled yarnTskein, and her state of mind having begun to brighten with the decreasing entanglement, she said quite kindly to Hertha : "I am winding now to spole for your weaving, my dear Hertha ; and if you were but as industrious as I am, it would soon be ready." Hertha only replied " Goodnight," with an unhappy expres- sion of countenance, and crossed the passage to the second door. Of this she had the key. She opened it and went in. It was a large room, in which might be perceived the smell both of smoke and damp. Ceiling, walls, fire-place, all showed evident want of repair. There was but little furniture, and that of the most homely pharaeter ; although in this, as in other things, the careful hand of woman was observable. A loom and two spinning-wheels stood in the room. Its only ornament was a little book-case and a few pictures, the work of dertha. In a deep recess on the lefl hand ; — ^but before we proceed to this we will say a few words about the two sisters themselves, who had spent together here the best part ■ THE SISTEES. 67 of their youth, who had here together laughed, and together wept,- loved, and comforted each other ; spent their days in hard work, and often lain awake through the night to read together the old heroic songs or history, Hertha's favorite, reading, or novels, which were Alma's ; together' became enthusiastic about grand ideas, laid out grand schemes, nay even poured out their warm feelings both in prose and verse (but merely for each other, because they possessed no other public), ai^^hen seen their youthful dreams grow dim, and their hfe change into — that which it was now. Their mother "died in giving birth to the youngest of her daughters. The two eldest were then much younger. The mother's iUnesS, occasioned in great measure from want of happiness in her marriage, had gloomed the childhood of her daughters^ After her death their father's sister came to take charge of the household. The difference between the influence of the former mistress of the family and the present, was like that between a soft, rainy summer, and a severe winter. Mrs. Hi,rd was a lady who exalted herself for her love of truth and ' justice, nor will we deny her these qualities ; but she had not love, and therefore her view of things was never entirely true; she could never see the whole truth in any object which she condemned, and her judgment was, therefore, neither just nor enlightened by the beneficent light of reason. Hertha was thirteen years old when this lady came to live in the family ; she was at that critical age, when the child awakes from her slumber and looks around her with opened eyes upon the world ; and when all the necessities and ques- tionings of the soul burst forth thirsting for the light of day. The unusual, and therefore restless temperament and faculties of the child were misunderstood and misconstrued by Mrs. H3,rd. , She saw dangerous or altogether improper tendencies in everything, and she considered that truth and justice required her to represent to her fiither every fault or deficiency in its blackest color, which she called "its true color," that the young girl might be punished in the sever- est manner. Mrs. Hi,rd believed that she acted in this respect 68 HEBTHA. as a model of conscientiousness and justice. The deeply- sensitive and enthusiastic girl, who saw her least mistake represented as something monstrous ; her most innocent actions suspected ; her best iotentions often misconstrued to the rery opposite ; all her questionings about deeper subjects of life repulsed as " needless inquiries," and every expression of her young, aspiring soul sternly repelled, became at first miserably unhappy, almost driven to despair, and cast into a state of perfectly chaotic darkness as regarded herself|"^her fellow- creatures, life, truth — everything. The necessity which there was in her own soul to pour forth- love and reverence, and which instinctively turned towards those who were her natural guardians, was received by them only with injudicious severity, and in a spirit of worldly wisdom. She thought at first that they must be right, and she herself wrong. But she saw her sister, the gentle, and, according to her judgment, the almost saintly Alma, condenmed and severely- treated also. At this, her naturally strong mind released itself out of the slavish depression which was otherwise gaining the mastery over her, and she overcame it through love to her sister. " That light," of which the Gospel speaks, " which lights every man who comes into the world," diffu|ed its illuminating beams through her own conscience, to judge and condemn those who could imjustly judge and act towards that angelic sister. The light -within her o-wn conscience was strengthened and awoke to a still higher life, by means of the religious instruction which she at this time, together -with her sister and the young people in the community where she dwelt, received. And although this might be imperfect, and fettered by the mere literal interpretation, as is generally the case, and although even here her inquiries respecting difficult dogmas were repulsed by the teacher with the remark that, " People must not ask questions ; that Reason must be subdued under the obedience of Faith ; " stUl, nevertheless, her naturally powerful instincts towards the highest justice and the highest good, obtained by this means new words and an increased strength. Armed -with these, she now turned herself towards those who had THE SISTEES. 69 endeavored to curb her and her sister. She demanded a higher standard of truth and of justice than theirs. They did not understand, her. But, nevertheless, there were moments when Mrs. Htrd trembled before the young girl, whom she wished to rule,"so threatening was her glance, so commanding was her whole being at the slightest imjust word or treatment where Alma was concerned. Mrs. Hi,rd did not venture any longer to treat Alma with severity. But all the more from this very cause, did she describe Hertha to her father as of a fectious and self-willed disposition ; and every word which she spoke, and all her actions, were retailed and represented to him from this point of view. And as she carried to the father the most e;x;aggerated reports of his daughters, so did she likewise report to the daughters every word of his and all his denunciations with exaggerated severity, at the very time ' that she declared herself to be endeavoring to mollify him, and to be a peacemaker between them ; and, probably, she really believed hergelf to be so, because a great many people are struck with an extraordinary blindness as regards them- selves. By these means Mrs. HSrd produced a gradually in. creasing bitter misunderstanding between father and daughters. "We have drawn a dark picture of family relationships. Would to God that it were of rare occurrence ! That which, also, still more clearly showed Hertha the want of true insight and justice in the aunt, as regarded her- self and her sister, was her perfect weakness and blindness towarHs her own daughter Amaha, a gay and handsome, but self willed yotmg girl,' who was very much addicted .to pleasure. The mother approved and allowed her to follow her own whims and fancies ; let her amuse herself at parties out of the house, where her little triumphs were flattering both to her own and her mother's vanity ; whilst the daughters of the house were compelled to hard work for the benefit of the family. But it was not the work, in the meantime, that they complained of; it was the want of light, as it were, in the doing of it, the want of enjoyment, and any future advantage from it. They did not, however, complain aloud; for they 70 HKETHA. knew if they did so it would merely lead to reproof and ser- monizing. Under sucli a regime, spring up in young energetic natures, amid the best circumstances, a great revolutionary taste, •warm sympathies for the Poles, the Hungarians, and for all oppressed nations, together with the wish to fight for them ; in more doubtful circumstances, many dark wishes for which people bitterly reproach themselves, but of which they cannot prevent the recurrence ; as, for instance, the death of certain near relations; a fire or some other violent accident, or for anything, in fact, which should interrupt the murderous compulsion and monotony of daily life. Fewer heavenly rays of light penetrate into such a hell of domestic life than into aiiy other shadowy regioiji of the earth. The negroes of the Slave States of America have their religions festivals, when they can give full play to then- souls in sermons and in songs, and drink in new life from liie light which flows from the life and doctrine of the Saviour, when they enjoy to- gether their blissful communions and festivals. But in loveless homes of the north, a young woman lives a more fettered and gloomy life than that of the serf and the slave. It is not clothing and food that is wanting, neither is it always enjoy- ments of a common, empt^, and short-lived, kind ; that which is wanting is an atmosphere of life, is freedom, and a future, the bread and the wine which give pleasure to fife. In the first..place arises in young girls, under such circum- stances, the-ilonging to become free, in the only way which opens itstilfto them, through marriage. "I will get married, even to the; devil himself!" said Hertha, in her younger days ; " if only to deliver you, my Alma, from this intolerable home !" Alma, of a gentler feminine character than Hertha, would not marry any one, and least of all " the devU," but — ■. . Both A&na and Hertha were oharmiijg enough to attract the attention and fancy of men ; but they went very seldom. ■ into company, very seldom saw strangers at home, and never young men. An exception, however, was made on behalf of THE SISTEES. 71 one young maA, a relative of th.e family, and of more than or- dinarily interesting character. He supplied the young girls with books, conversed with them on subjects which deeply interested them, disputed with Hertha, and soon became sincerely attached to Alma, as was she to him. He was very modest, and, according to the old Swedish usage, first asked the father's permission before he declared his affection for the daughter. But he was rejected by the father, who considered his worldly prospects not suflBciently prpmising, and who would not give up Alma's share, of her mother's property, her just inheritance, into the hands of another. The severity with which the young man's offer was rejected, without reference to Alma's feelings, led him to suppose that she had no liking for him. Without any explanation with her, therefore, he left the family, and even his country. This took place about three years before. At the same time an event occurred which rendered the domestic circumstances stiU more difficult. The handsome aiud gay Amalia, gladly escaping from her dull home, paid frequent visits in the country to young friends gay and lively as herself. The levity of her behavior here attracted atten- tion, and Mrs. Hard was warned; she received these warnings with proud disdain, yet neverth^ess recalled her daughter home — but too late. The thoughtless girl was — a fallen woman : she acknowledged it, but obstinately refused to mention the name of him who had brought her to shame, and reproached her mother for having, through the education she had given her, been the cause of her misfortune. This, together with the sorrow and disgrace, were more than the proud, yet at the same time morally weak, woman could bear. It broke her down at once, and she did not long survive it. Amalia had, in the meantime, removed to a distance, and it was not until two years afterwards that she returned, under an assumed name, and in the deepest poverty, to the town where she spent a portion of her giddy youth. Mrs. Hird's death freed the young daughters of the house from an incessant oversight in which there was no love ; but, 12 IIEKTHA. as their father's temper after this occurrence became extremely irritable and suspicious, his daughters' lives were, in some re- spects, still more wretched than before. He seemed to become every day more and more niggardly and petulant, and more and more opposed to all freedom and cheerfulness within the family ._^ Aunt Nellahad always been what the Director himself calledher, a cypher in the house, as regarded everything ex- cepting the care which she took of the younger children. She had taken charge of them from the time when they were bom, and had always been to them a good motherly caretaker and teacher of the first rudin;ients. But she became more timid and childish as years went on, and also more occupied by her one idea — ^the impending great lawsuit. Such was the state of affairs in the fiimily at the time when the great fancy-ball was to take place in the town, and when Hertha, at her sisters' earnest desire, accepted-^" in order to enliven herself arid them a little " — an invitation to the re- hearsal, which she had received. We now return to the moment when Hertha, returned frbm this rehearsal party, entered Ahna's chamber. In a deep recess on the left hand stood the sisters' bed, on which now, half reclining on high pillows, lay the elder of the two sistei-s — herself stiU young. She wore a fine white night- dress ; the light of a small uncostly nightlamp, on a table by the bed, lit up a mild pale countenance, which was beautiM rather from the expression of soul than from the beauty of the features, and in which at this moment, so much patience, yet at the same time so much sorrow, was expressed, that no one could have seen it without being affected by it. She held an open Bible before her, and had been reading in the book of Job — that deep voice jrom a remote antiquity, which has been through all ages, and stiU remains to be, the most faithful interpreter of the groans and cries of th& agonized soul. She who now read it held a lead-pencil in her hand, with which she had marked the following passages : — "My breath is corrupt, niy days are extinct, the grave is ready for me." THE SISTEES. ?3 ' " He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone ; and miae hope hath he removed hke a tree." " Wilt thou break a leaf driven to and fro, wUt thou pursue the dry stubble ?" When Hertha entered, her sister closed the book, and a faint smile hghted up the mild pale countenance. Hertha threw off her cloak, and hastening' to the bed, fell upon her knees, and took one of her sister's hands, which she covered with kisses. Torrents of tender tears now streamed from those eyes, lately so cold and stem, and the voice which was lately constrained now exclaimed, in the most sweet and mjel9dious tones — " Alma, my Alma ! Sister, dear sister !" And burning tears wetted the hand which she, with inex- pressible love, laid upon her face. " Hertha, my dear heart, why are you so excited ?" asked the sick girl, as she bent her head down to her sister's fore- head, and laid her other arm round her neck. "Ah!" replied Hertha, "from a thousand causes; because I love you so much and hate others, and because I am afraid that you are going away — away from me, my Alma ! I have been very wicked this evening, but that is nothing to what I shall be when you are gone-^-you, my good angel ! I shall become stem and full of hatred, because both God and man are alike unjust and severe." " Dont say so ! certainly, things are very strange in this world, and there is a great deal which might be other- wise; but — some time — ^some time it will all be clear, all goQd !" ^ " I don't know that, I don't believe that, as you do. If God can some time and somewhere let the good have the victory, why not now and here ?" " Tes, why ? That we don't know. But this we do know, that the impersonation of the highest love died upon the cross, and arose fropi the grave and spoke of peace and joy beyond it !" " Yes, He ! He was good and great. But He hved and 4 74 HEETIIA. died for a great purpose ; and we, and many besides us, seem merely to live to pine away slowly and die, without any object !" " Yes," said Alma, sadly, " that is the worst of it. The long, bitter agonies !" Hertha arose from her knees and wrung her hands as she wept bitterly. At length she said : " You see what it is which embitters me so much against the author of our life. You so good, so angelic, so loVin^ that you would never let even a worm suffer, who never did ■ anything but what was good, why should you be so plagued ? When we were children, and our mother was alive, and we were happy in her embrace, then it seemed to me that I had a sense of God and could love Him. But since then it has become BO dark. I cannot any longer love God ; I do not love — ^I do not understand this dark terrible power, which has called you and me, and so many others, out of our nothingniess, saying, 'Awake — love, yearn, sufffer!' And then we awoke ; we tasted of life's bitterness, we loved and suffered, and had a sense of the gloriousness of hfe, merely to know that we must forsake it ; then again this power seizes upon us, saying, ' It is enough ; lie down and suffer and die ; go down into thy grave. Thou hast lived enough !' No, I cannot love a God who acts thus towards us. I do not love the God which I see in the government of the world ; nor the God which the Bible talks of; he is not a good, not a just power !" " My sweet Hertha, do not talk so ! There is so very much which we are not able to understand." "There is, however, a great deal which we do under- stand. Alma ! — a great deal which our conscience tells us, and which stands written there in ineffaceable characters. To this I must and will adhere ; indistinct and kisuffioient though it be, it is stiU the only light which nOw lights me in this dark world, the only spot which is still green and fresh, which belongs to me, and Where I feel myself at home. If there be a good God he talks to me there, in my own conscience,' because it loves the good, it hates the wicked, it desires that THE SISTEES. IS which is just. If I were no longer to trust to this hght, no longer to listen to this voice, then I do not know what I should become or what I should do. " I have held my peace so long, I have left unspoken so much that stirs my whole heing. Alma ! With you alone can I give vent to my feelings. You only can read my heart. I feel as if your glance had a healing power. Lay your hand there ; let it rest there for a moment ; perhaps it may allay this bitterness, which I now feel towards them who gave us hfe, against them whom we call our father in Heaven, and our father on earth. Bitterness against one's father is a frightful feeling ! Oh, Alma ! when I think that it is our father's fault that you are lying here heart-broken ; that you might have been the happy wife of the man who loved you if our fether's obstinacy and covetousness had not separated you !" " Do not speak of it, Hertha !" interrupted Alma, whilst a death-like paleness overspread her countenance ; " do not touch upon that subject." ' " Forgive me, beloved ! But I know that it is that which is killing you. Ever since then have I seen you fade and waste away, as by some secret malady ; your eyes become larger ; your cheeks emaciated, and you — oh. Alma, sweet Alma ! I feel I shall hate him !" "Do not hate him. Pity him rather. BeUeve me, he is not happy. He has not always been as he is now. Ever since our mother's death, Anna says that his temper has be- come gloomy and morbid ; and our aunt made him more morose than he otherwise would have been." " But he is also unjust and severe ! Had he given us our right, then you would not have been as you now are. Why does he withhold from us our mother's property ? Why does he render us no account of wftat we possess, or of what we ought to have ?" " We have, in fact, no right to desire it. We are, accord- ing to the laws of our country, stUl minors, and he is our law- ftd guardian." 76 HKBTHA. " And we skaE always continue to be minors, if we dx) jiot go to law with our father, because it is his will that we should ever be dependent upon him, and the laws of our country for' bid us to act as if we were rational, independent beings ! Look, Alma, it is this injustice towards us, as women, which provokes me, not merely with my father,, but with the men who make these my country's unjust laws, and with all who contrary to reason and justice naalatain them, and ia so doiog contribute to keep us in, our fettered condition. We Rave property which we inherit from our mother ; yet can we not dispose of one single farthing pf it. We are old enough to know what we desire, and to be able to take care of ourselves and others, yet at the same tinve we are kept as children un- der our father and guardian, because he chooses to consider us as such, and treat us as such. We are prohibited every action, every thought which would tend to independent activ- ity or the opening of a future for ourselves, because our fa- ther and guardian says that we are minors, that we are child- ren, and the law says, ' it is his right ; you have nothing to say !' " " Yes," said Ahna, " it is unjust, and harder than people think. But, nevertheless, our father means weU by us ; and manages our property justly and prudently with regard to our best interests." " And who will be the better for it ? We ? Whea we are old and stupid, and no more good for anything ! See, I shall soon be twenty-seven, you are twenty-nine already, and for what have we Uved ?" Alma made no reply, a,nd Hertha continued : " If we had even been able to learn anything thoroughly, and had had the liberty to pat forth our powers, as young men have, I would not comply. Is it not extraordinary, Alma, that people always ask boys what they would like to be, what they have a fancy or taste for, and then give them the oj^ortunity to learn, and to 4©velope themselves accord- ing to the best of their minds, but they never do so with girls ! They cannot even think or choose for themselves a pro- THE SISTERS. 77 fession or way oflife. Ah, I ■would so gladly have lived upon bread and water, and been superlatively happy, if I might but have studied as young men study at universities, and by my own efforts have made my own way. The arts, the sciences, — oh, how happy are men who are able to study them; to penetrate the mysteries of the beautiftil and the sublime, and then go forth into the world and communicate to others the wisdoiii they have learned, the good they have fotmd. How glorious to live and labor diay by day, for that which makes the world better, more beautiful, lighter. How happy should one feel, how good, how mild ; how different that Ufe must be to what it is, where there seems to be no other question in the world but, ' What shall we eat and drink, and wJiat shall we put on ?' arid where all life's solicitude seems to resolve itself into this. Oh, Alma, are we not born into this world for something else ? How wretched !" and as if overwhelmed by the thought, Hertha buried her fece in her hands. Pre- sently sh-e became calmer, and continued, looking steadily' upwards : " How dissimilar are objects in the world, as weU. in nature as among mankind. The Creator has given to each and all their different impulse and destination, which they cannot violate "without becoming unnatural, or perishing. Tim is allowed to be an unquestioned law as regards the children of nature. 'People do not require from the oak that it shall be like a birch, nor from the hly that it shall resemble the creeping cistus. With men it is the same ; they are allowed each one to grow according to his bent and his nature, and .to become that which the Creator has called them to be ; biit women, precisely they who should improve every power to the utmost, they must become unnatural, thoughtless, submis- sive tools of that lot to which men have destined them. They must all be cast in one mould and foUow one line, which is chalked out for them as if they bad no sonls' of their own to show them the way, and to give them an individual bent. And yet how different 'are the gifts and the dispositions of women ; what a difference there is, for instance, among us 18 HEETHA. sisters, all children of tlie same parents. What a clever and active practical woman ■will our Martha become, and Maria, on the contrary, how nnusually thoughtful and pleased with study is she ! You, my Alma, are made to be the angel of domestic life, and I — ah, I do not know, I cannot tell what I was created to become. I yet seek for myself; but if I had been able to develope myself in freedom, if the hunger, and the thirst which I felt within me had been satisfied, then I might perhaps have become something more than ordinarily good and beneficial to my ffeUow-creatures. Because, though it may be bold to say or think it, I know that I might have been able to acquire the good gifts of life in order to impart them to the many ; I would liberate the captive and make the oppressed soul happy ; I would work, and live and die for humanity. Other objects are for me too trivial. There was a time when I believed what people and books said about home and domestic life, as woman's only object and world ; when I thought that it was ,a duty to crush all desires after a larger horfeon, or any other sphere of action ; weak, stupid thoughts those, which I have long since cast behind me ! My inward eye has become clearer, my own feelings and thoughts have become too powerful for me, and I can no longer, as formerly, judge myself by others. There was a time when, above aU things, I thirsted after an artist's life and freedom ; but that, even that, is a selfish, circumscribed aim, if it be not sanctified by something "higher. Marriage is to me a secondary thing, nay, a wretched thing, if it do not tend to a higher human development in the service of light and freedom. That which I seek for and which I desire is, a life, a sphere of labor, which makes me feel that I live fuUy, not merely for myself, but for the whole community, for my country, my. people, for humanity, fpr God, yes, fbr God ! if he be the God of justice and goodness — ^the father of all. Perhaps I may never attain to that which I wish for ; perhaps I may sink down, buried in the inner life, which is mine and so many other women's portion in this world ; but never, never will I say that it is woman's proper inheritance and lot, never will I submit, THE SISTEES. 79 never will I cease to maintain that she has been created for something better, something more ; yes, if she were able fairly and fully to develope all the noble powers which the Creator has given her, then she would make the world happier. Oh ! that I could live and labor for the emancipation of these captive, struggling souls, these souls which are yearning after life and light ; with what joy should I live, with what gladness should I then die, yes, even if to die were to cease for ever ! I should then, nevertheless, have lived immortally !" " How handsome you are, after all, Hertha !" exclaimed Alma, as she looked up with rapture to her sister, who looked radiant in her longings after freedom and love. "Handsome," repeated Hertha, blushing and smiling sor- rowfully. " Ahj there was a time when I know I might have .become, might have been good-looking, if— but that time is gone by. Now I grow plainer every day, because my soul and mind are embittered more and more against both God and man. I have sometimes had the most extravagant thoughts of how I might deliver us from this misery. I have thought of going to Stockholm and speaking to the King !" " To the King ! Ah, Hertha !» " Tes, to the King. They say that King Oscar is noble and just ; that he does not refuse their rights to any of his subjects. I should speak to him in this manner (now you are the King and I am your subject) : ' Your Majesty, I come on behalf of myself and many of my sisters. "We have been kept as children, in ignorance of our human rights and duties, and held as minors, in order that we may not become mature human beings. Both our souls and our hands are in bonds, although God has bade us to be free, and although we demand nothing but that which is good and right. In other Christian countries, and even in our own sister-land, your Majesty's kingdom of Norway, her rights have been deter- mined by law to woman at a certain age, and this the age of her best powers ; but in our country, in Sweden, the law ordains, that the daughters of the country shall for all time be under bondage, and declared to be under age, unless they 80 HEETHA. > happen to be wido.ws, whatever their age may be ; or they must appeal to the seat of justice to demand that freedom, which still their guardians can prevent their obtaining.' " " But now, if the King should say, ' My dear child, you and your many sisters need stipport and guidance. You could not manage or keep things ia order for yourselves.' " " Then would I reply, ' Your Majesty, let us be tried, and yoiir Majesty will then see that it is quite the reverse. Many noble-minded and hberal-minded women have shown it to be so, and these might become more, might become many, if the laws of our country allowed it. Children could not learn to walk alone, if tiey were not released from the leading strings ; they could not use their eyes unless light were aUoWed to center their rooms. " ' Let us only know that we may be, that Xve are permitted to be our own supporters, and we shall learn to support our- selves and others. Your Majesty ! grant us freedom, grant , us the right over our own souls, our lives, our property, our future, and we will serve you, and our country, and all that is good, with all our heart and all our soul, and with all our powers, as only they who are free can do !' " " Well said, my beautiful, noble Hertha !" exclaimed Alma. " I wish that the King and the estates of the realm could both see and hear you, they would then repent of having done an injustice to the Swedish woman — ^having been willing to depreciate her worth and limit her future." " And that of the community at the same time,'' added Hertha, warmly, "because a grea,t deal of that which is so wretched in morals and in disposition, proceeds from the want of esteem which women have for themselves, the want of fully comprehending their ihigh vocation as human beings. Our poor Amalia, for example, and many besides her, had as- suredly never fallen and become despised creatures, if they had early been able to look up and onwards to some noble and available destination for which they could liv6 and labor every day. How dark .and narrow is the space which man allots to woman in this world ! and when she feels it, when the THE SISTEES. 81 hearth becomes too narrow for her, how lonely and unpro- tected is she in the great world outside. Besides which, how few are the women, and how happy the circumstances must he for them, who become all that they might and ought to be, in comparison with the mass who live and die imperfect human beings not one half or quarter developed. And I, who condemn them so severely, what am I myself but an imperfect outline of a human being? and it is only my combating against the condition that causes it, nothing else, which gives me any respect for myself. Because I know it — ^I might be something different, something more !" " And you will be that yet," said Alma, " because you are not of the common class, and your rich and beautiful gifts cannot be extinguished or grow rigid for want of use. I have a feeling within me, Hertha, that you have yet much that is beautiful to experience and to live for. Some time — some time I will speak to our father about you and the little girls. He wishes, after all, our best interests; he loves us in his way." " So also does the slave-owner his slaves and serft, and it is, ' only out of care and regard for them,' that he refuses them their freedom. I am weary. Alma, of so much and such useless talk about love and love. *I wish people would say less about love and more about justice — true justice : especially that they practised it more in the world. For injustice is the root of all want of love, of all evil. Without justice there can be no true love, neither can it be preserved. There was a time, when I was a child, when I loved my father very much; when I looked up to him as to a higher being, and even now it some- times happens, when I have seen him sitting there with his strong, handsome features, like an old, deposed king, as now when he is ill, that my heart has been drawn towards him with wonderfiil power, — I would give a great deal to be able to love him, and to be loved by him ; but, already, whilst I was yet a child, he taught me to fear him, and since then, now that I understand his selfishness, his injustice — I have lost all faith in him, all desire to do that which he wills, and I 4* 82 HEETHA. feel at times much more likely to hate than to love him. Every day the relationship between us heoomes more and more bitter." " And yet, yet it ought to be so different. Wait, my sweet Hertha, wait yet awhile ; I have an impression on my mind that a change is about to take place, — my mind is in such an extraordinary state this evening, sad, and yet cheerful ! — But, Hertha, I wiU now speak to you about something else — beseech something from you." " Ah, tell me what it is. Anything which you wish, aiid which is in my power I wiU do." " I want to talk to you about Rudolph. Sweet Hertha,' do not be too friendly with him. I very well understand the reason of your kindness to him, but he may mistake the motive, and fancy it proceeds from quite another cause." " He is not very wise, poor lad ; he has never seemed to me to be quite sharp ; but then our father has been so severe and violent towards him. Through all the five years that he has lived in this house he has never once had a kind word, nor a kind glance, nothing but scolding and reproaches. Besides, he is always hard at work, and very seldom enjoys any leisure. One would be sick to death of such a life ! And he always looks so melancholy and ready to hang himself; I have felt that he really needed a httle sisterly kindness and care." " Yes, if he would only take them in the right way. But he is evidently in love with.you, and ever since the day when you rushed to him, and he saved you &om the drunken man, he seems to think that he must be near you. This makes nie uneasy. It looks as if he thought he had a right to be your protector." "And that he has perfectly," replied Hertha, laughing, "when it comes to saving me from a drunken man. He is taU and strong, and on that occasion behaved stoutly arid courageously. I fancy even that since that time he has been more lively and cheerftil, and has seemed to have more self- reliance. Ah^ it is such a good thing to win the esteem of those nearest to us, to Ije ablp to ^p something for them. Do THE SISTEKS. '83 not be uneasy, dear Alma, about Rudolph and me. He is like a poor plant ■which has grown up in the dark, and which requires light to obtain its right color and form. Let me be the light to him. We are almost brother and sister, and the poor fatherless and motherless lad has no one in all the world who cares or thinks about him. There is in him a certain raw strength which, properly; developed, may make a man of him. And even if he did for a time mistake my feeling for him, the mistake cannot last long; I am neither handsome nor agreea- ble enough to be dangerous: to any man's peace, and I become less and less so every day." " You do not understand. You may be more dangerous than many a more beautiful woman to him, who sees you in your daily life." " So say you, who were, and indeed stUl remain to be, my only beloved lover. But I will do as you say, Akna. I wUI be circumspect with Rudolph. Poor Rudolph ! " " Thanks ! How beautiful your hair is ! there are wonder- fully lovely golden rays in it when the light faUS upon it side- ways, as now." "I will take great care of it, too, for your dear eyes' " My eyes thank you for doing so ; it does them good. What time is it ?" " It is near twelve." " Then I may take my opium,drops ; otherwise I know that I shall not sleep." - "I win give you them. Thank God for these friends, which make us forget life and its misery. This has been a bitter day to me : now I wUI take a sleeping draught with you, and with you wander into the land of dreams. Perhaps we may there obtain the knowledge of why we hve, for we cannot do so here." And Hertha took the same number of drops as she had given to her sister, and lay down by her side on the bed. "Will you not undress?" ^ " No : what is the use of continually dressing and undress- 84 HEBTHA. ing for — no purpose whatever. I am weary with this eter- nally the same and the needless. Besides, I shall perhaps in my dreams wake up his Majesty, and have to make a speech for the captives ; and then all at once it might occur to me that I was undressed in case — I were so. But now I am ready for whatever adventure- befalls." "Yes: dream now some really remarkable dream, which you can afterwards tell to us and to the king. Good night ; but let me lay the coverlid over you. So then." " Do you feel yourself better now ?" "Yes, much better. I fancy that I shall have a good night." " Thank God ! Kiss me. Good night, my Alma ! Alma mine ! Alma, thou my Alma ! Pray God for me, and for us all !" The two sisters laid their arms round each other, and soon were soundly asleep, and Hertha dreamed a remarkable' dream. HERTHA'S DREAM* It seemed ta her that she was a soul newly bom to earth. She was reposing in the granite mountain as in her cradle. She saw herself, as though the body was a transparent, ethe- real form for the soul, and in the soul she saw the clear — ^heart, with its wonderful system of ventricles and arteries, through which the life throbbed along warm crimson paths, and far within it burned a flame, which now rose and now sank, now seemed dimmer, now clearer, but evidently striving upward, as if seeking for a freer space. It was morning, and the sun rose brilliantly upwards. She rejoiced in the light of the sun, and drank a greeting to it from small beaker-Uke leaves with purple edges, which stood around her cradle filled with bright drops of dew. Her heart beat with longing for light and life. Prom her little nook in the bosom of the granite mountain, where she lay upon a soft bed of moss, she saw the heavens bright above her head, and the hills and valleys of the earth spreading far around. She saw a lofty, glorious, verdant tree, whose branches stretched over the whole earth, and even up to heaven ; they were laden with beautiful fruit, and she heard voices singing from the tree-top in the words of the old Pinlandio proverb — Listen to the tree-top's whispering, At whos'e root thy home is planted 1 * The prevision of this dream -will not fail to strike our readers as extra- ordinary. But who shall say that many a phantasm of a dream may not be a prophecy of the future t Hertha's dream must,,a3 far as it deals with events which had not then occurred, be regarded as such. 86 HEETHA. A clear fountain gushed murmuring upwards, not far from the root of the lofty tree. She saw three beautiftil grave women fetch water from the fountain and water the tree, which upon this seemed to grow ever greener and fresh- er. Swans with brilliantly- white plumage swam, singiug the while, on the waters of the fountain. Hertha saw men com- ing and going undet the shade of the tree, plucking its fruit, and then bringing back again with exultation beautiful crea- tions which they called their work. She' saw glorious 'fblons, proud erections, and the most exquisite ornaments ptoeeed from their hands : she saw them rejoice over their woi"k,"and again and again derive power for fresh labor from'this'fruits of the magnificent tree. With a beating heart she inquired'^ "Who are these ? " A voice answered. "These are the wof shippers of the Sciences and the free Arts ; and they who, in the shadow of the tree of life and freedom, devote themselves to the callings which ennoble and gladden the heal-t of man'." Many of these people seemed to pay an iespecial homage to woman. They delineated her forin in manifold ways ; they composed songs and inade bestutSful speeches in her honor ; calling upon her to beautify the eaxth and to make it happy. Hertha felt the fire in her heart burn Jiigher and higher, and it inspired her to think, "Oh, that I, "like one of these, labored in the shadow of the beautlfiil tree, enjoyirig its fruits, and gladdening the hearts of my fellow-creatures !" With that she dreamed that she saw, looking down from heaven above her, a countenance of infinite majesty and infinite fatherly love, and involuntarily she looked upwards and besought — " Father 1 let me labor and rejoice, as these my brothers !" " Go, my daughter !" repUed the glorious mild countenance, with a smile of approval. Hertha then gladly left her nook in the bosom of the prime- val rock, and wandered towards the beautiful tree. But it was more distant than she had imagined, and she encountered HEETHA'S DBEAM. 87 many hindrances by the way. But she overcame them all ; hastened courageously forw^rdj because she never ceased to hear the murmur of the fresh fountain and the whispering in the head, of the mighty tree. She now saw it near at hand, but she became aware that it was inclosed by walls, which altogether prevented her from advancing farther. 'There were various gates in the walls, distinguished by the different names of academies and schools. These gates seemed at a distance to be open, but as soon as she approached, with the intention of passing through them, shp found them closed. She knocked, and prayed for admission. But the portets replied — " Men only have free ingress and egress here. We have no room for women in our halls of learning, nor have they any- thing to do there." Hertha repUed with humility: "I can learn to do beautiful -and noble work as well as my brothers. I will not interfere with any one, but patiently work and learn, in ol'der that I may be able" some day to refresh the human heart. Therefore, let me also gather fruit from the lafge tree of the world." She was then ans^'ered with severity: "Go, the fi'uit is not for you. Return to your nook in the rock, and learn to cook or to spin. That is the befitting occupation for you and your compeers. You have no part with the free." Voices were now heard within the gates, saying, " Let the young woman in : she ought also to enjoy the fruits of the tree." But other voices said : '^ No." And there was a contention at the gates, because some wished them to be opened, but others opposed it. The latter were stronger, and therefore the gates remained barred.* * Hertha was not always clairvoyant in this dream, as appears from the fact that she did not see that actually a certain number of female students have been admitted within the last two years into the Musical Academy of Stockholm, neither were the later endeavors of the directors of the indus- trial school at Stockholm for the formation of a female class revealed to her. As regards the academy of the fine arts, it has been closed against the ad- mission of female pupils since the departure of the noble-minded Professor 88 HEKTHA. / Spumed but not cast down, Hertjia went on, seeking for some gate by wMoh she might enter. Anon she arrived at a portal over which was written in ornamental letters, Industrial School, beneath which was inscribed " Open to ladies." Her- tha, well pleased, knocked at the gate as she thought, " at last !" But the gate was ngt- opened. She knocked again and again. At length the porter was seen peepmg from a window. " Be so good," said Hertha, " as to open the gate " Very willingly,"'-saidrthe'porter kindly, "if I can da^so. But it is next to impossible ; it sticks so fast !" And indeed it did stick fast I ; The porter labored with all his might, and even called a couple of men to help him, and they aE did their best to get the gate open, bAt in vain. "It is set inunovably fast with rust," said they. "It must be greased before it can be opened, and that cannot be done before the diet assembles." Hertha wandered sliJII onward, seeking for a gate through which she might enter, but was repelled from.aU, frequently with scorn and severity. She looked through a lofty iron gate ; saw the bright' fountain and the beautifiiL women who watched them, and besought of them : Quarnstrom from his native land. It is necessary to observe that the deep- ly-suffering mind of Hertha reflected itself in her dream, sand caused her to see every circumstance on its darkest side. Whether she saw them too dark in Sweden may be questioned. Some able men in this country seem to think not, as Bishop Agardh, for instance, in his pamphlet " On Life Insur- ances for Swedish Women," and a profoundly thinking anonymous writer of Gottland, whose excellent little pamphlet " On Girls' Schools.'with a few Words on their Advantage, and the duty of the State to establish and sup- port them" (published by L. J. Hierta, 1860), deserves to be universally known. The last mentioned pamphlet has for motto the following lines : — " I -will that Woman -hainB Instmotion, ' That she thereby may m accoantablo. I will that woman be accountable, That she thereby may sh^re life's happiness." j \ , We understand by this happiness, also, self-knowledge, nobility, and thank the author most cordially for the noble-minded word. - HEETHA'S DEEAM. 89 " Give me a draught of ■water, to refresh me ! I am perish- ing of thirst." They looked at her, those beaiitiful, gtave women, with glanices of deep compassion, and replied: " It is forbidden to us !" And the eldest of the JSTornor added : A doom hath been spoken, A curse from the old timea Lies on thee, -woman, Prom verdurous Munlnm. Nor, till 'tis remitted Canst thou taste the waters From Urda the fountain. The fountain which giveth new life. The stem Noma Verdandi now spoke and said : It is not for the feeble ; It is only for courage heroic, — For the will that o'eroometh, — For him that doth honfestly combat, — He only is worthy I But the younger of the three looked with a glance full of fire on Hertha, and said : Blessed are they who have seen. Who combat in faith and in hope I They shall be welooine ; They shall win victory I Hertha understood not the words of the ITornor. She under- stood merely that she was not worthy to drink of the Ufe-giv- ing fountain ; that they had rejected her. Silent and with tearful eyes she turned back to her little nook in the bosom of the mountain. All was as she had left it. The small beaker-like leaves around her bed had filled themselves with tears of dew and stood sparkling, and offering ^h.er these drops of heaven's kindness. She drained them eager- ly, kissed tliese small friends of her childhood gratefiiUy, and thought to herself: 90 KEETHA. " I will become such as you are, and rejoice iu the light and beauty of the sun for the sake of others. I wiU endeavor to be like one of you, and desire nothing more." - But all at once the sky grew dark : the heavens were over- cast with heavy leaden-grey clouds ; the sun disappeared be- hind them ; the verdure of earth withered ; the leaves fell ; all beauty vanished, and a dense, frosty-cold mist veiled every object. Hertha was chilled to the bone ; she felt her limbs stiffen, but still the flame burned brightly in her heart, kin- dling up life, as it were, still more, and calling forth ^ still more burning desire for light and life, even after the earth and every outward object were enveloped in the ice-oold mist. She saw, as it were, still more clearly into her own being, and knew thUt a powerful life aniniated her. She looked around her on the granite mountain, and it revealed itself to her inward sight. She beheld there a multitude of women, whom her soul called aisters, sitting as she did, in narrow cells of the rock, and spin- ning upon wheels (to which .the epithet humdrum has ever been applied) which seemed to have neither end nor object, because the flax appeared never to decrease on the distaff, nor was the reel ever filled. The spinners gazed with alternately longing and stupified glances out into the misty distance, sing- ing to a monotonous and melancholy air : We're spuming, we're apinning the whole day long ; "We're singing for ever the selfsame song ; ^ The days may be weary, the pnson walls strong. Yet we know that he cpmes, that he comes before long. Oh, sisters, the friend whoip no man gainsaith, Onr bridegroom, deliverer. Death I Hertha felt the deepest kindness and the most cordial sympathy for these imprisoned souls. But below the moun- tain she saw a number of men who were called legislators, keeping watch that the captives might not escape and become free, "What have they done then, what have we all done," asked Hertha bitterly, " that we are to be treated thus ? " HEETHA'S DEKAM. 91 She sate silent for awhile with her burning heart, in the Cold unregardM world, and waited for an answer. But no answer came. And the worst of it was, she saw herself sitting like the others, spinning upon a humdrum wheel, and singing like the others : We're spinning, -we're spinning the whole day long, We're singing for ever the self-same song, &a. And she thought within herself, that rather than Uve in this way it would have been better never to have been born. But she did not sit long thus. Her soul lifted itself up ; she bethought herself of the words of the Nomor by the TJrda fountain, that its waters were only for the heroic-hearted, and for them who combated in sincerity ! , And at once there dawned within her a strong desire to free herself and her cap- tive sister-souls. She threw away from her both distaff and reel, arose and said, " I wiU combat in sincerity ! " Then flamed aloft the fire within her heart, raised her from the earth, and floated her forth above the heads of the legisla- tors through the regions of space. This feeling thrUled her with joy and hope, and she thought : " The curse on me and my sisters may then be annulled, and our portion, after aU, may be among the free ! " ^She involuntarily turned towards the East — ^towards the region where she saw the ascending sun; and borne, as if upon invisible wings, she floated forth over the earth. Siid- deidy, however, she felt her career impeded, and a harsh voice exclaimed : " Halt ! "Who goes there ? » " A soul," replied Hertha, " which seeks freedom, life, and happiness for herself and many sisters." ''What purpose can that serve ?" said the voice : " a soul ? and you are a woman? Away with such talk ! Here, in this country, women have no souls. They are not-reckoned in the population. Tou cannot go forward hither. Face about, march! " 92 HEETHA. "Who are you ? " asked Hertha, " and wbat right haf e you to command me ? " "What right?" thundered the voice. "I am the great Imperial Ukase, and stand at my post to prevent anything contraband from entering the country." " But I am not contraband," said Hertha ; " I am only a soul, -who " " Do not argue, but obey," interrupted the voice, " else you'll have to work in Siberia." A female soul which is seek- ing for liberty is the inost dangerous contraband article in the world. " Let me merely paSS uninterruptedly through youi- country, O great Ukase ; I will not tarry in it, but only proceed on- ward towards the East, yondeJr where the sun rises ! " besought Hertha. " You are a well-behaved person," said the Ukasfe more mildly, " and therefore, although I will not allow you to go uninterruptedly through toy ^ountry, yet I will show yoU something, eastward, which may perhaps cure you of your fanaticism for hberty." And with this he allowed her to look through a large tele- scope, which gave her a view of the East, as far as China, where not only the souls of the women, but also their feet were imprisoned ; and everywhere, on the face of the earth, towards the sunrise, she beheld women oppresseft and despised, excepting where they became feared as despotic and vengeful powers, which sometimes happened when they succeeded in breaking their chains by violence. "WTiat have they done?" inquired Hertha, "to be thus treated ?" " What's the use of pitying them ?" replied the Ukase. " They are treated as weH as they deserve, or as they need to be. Yes, in my holy / country, very much better. Here women are outrageously well used. They are not required to pay tribute to the crown, as souls, and they are allowed to inherit one fourteenth pail; of all property left by their relia- tions. By this means they can dress themselves handspmely, HEETHA'S DKEAM. 93 and talk about trifles as much as they please, provided only they are obedient and do* not make undue use of their liberty, N'ow hear me, girl, you are good-looking, and I have taken a liking to you ; remain here and you shall become the white slave of a rich Bojar. Come, you shall be very well off." And the great TJkase seized her by the arm. Terrified and proud, at the same time, Hertha released berself from his grasp and fled, hurling back as she did so a glance of contempt at the great Ukase. She fled northward, because she saw Ughts shining, and heard songs of rejoicing on the shores of the icy-sea. Here she found a wUd, nomadic people, who wandered about its dreary plains and through its frozen primeval forests. They were now celebrating their fair and a wedding. Hertha saw the men knocking one another about as if they were drunk, until finally they feU upon the snow, and there slept. In the hut, the women surrounded the bride, and gave her drink, and drank thenigelvesout of a jug amid loud laughter and noise. " j4re you free and happy ?" inquired Hertha, from them. " What is free f" replied they. " Is it any particular kind of brandy ? If so, let us have some, that we may give it to our fathers and husbands, that they may not misuse us. Give us some, that we also may be happy. Otherwise, happy she who dies on her third night. We are born to thi-al- dom." * The north wind roared across the ice-field, and the wedding- scene vanished in a cloud of whirling snow. After that it was calm and the Aurora-borealis danced a torch-dance around the arctic circle, so that it was as light as the brightest day ; and in this light Hertha beheld crowds of men and women, who were wandering around clad in skins, with their herds of rein- deer and their dogs. But everywhere, among these wild hordes, were the women servants to the men, and their equals only in their hours of debauch and of fight. Sometimes, however, the women became witches, and were then caUed "wise," and were both feared and obeyed, because their power was great to do evil and to work revenge ; and their 94 HBETHA. glance, which was called "the evil eye," had the power of hringing down misfortune both on man and on beast. Hertha turned away from this region and this people with a shudder, and again she was wafted over the earth ; but this time towards the warm countries of the South. She saw a sky different to the cold sky of the north ; a more beautiful, more luxuriant earth, affluent with flowers and fruits. The air was delicious, as kindness itself,' fountains leapt upwards ; music filled the air — everything seemed to be gashing over with life and its enjoyment. She found herself in a large garden near a large city. " Oh," thought Hertha, " here human beings must be free, good, and happy ; here I shall be able to meet with freedom , for myself and my imprisoned sisters." Scarcely had she so thought, when some solemn and magis* terial looking persons approached her, and said : " You are talking about freedom : you are a suspicious person : what are you doing here ?" . She replied, "I seek for freedom for myself and my sisters." The official gentlemen looked at one another and laughed, as if they would say, "She is out of her mind." And they said again to her, "What is it that you wish for?" She replied in the same words as before. * " Are you rich ?" they asked. "No," she replied; "my soul and my will are my only wealth." " Then you are a simpleton," said they ; " get married if you can, if not, go into a convent." " No," replied Hertha, " I will live and labor in freedom and innocence for the object after which my soul longs." "No freedom is innocent," said they, "at least among women. An old sin lies against your sex. And ia any case, you are a dangerous person, because you talk about freedomj and you come from a country where freedom In the old times struck deep root and grew to a large tree, as it is said, and IIEETHA'S DEEAM. 95 where the women, more than once, have fought for the free- dom of their comitry; therefore you cannot be left at liberty here." " Oh," thought Hertha, " they do not know how little the women of my own country can be called free." But she said nothing, because she would not cast a slur on the laws of her own land. AU at once she now heard a great cry : " To the convent, to the dungeon, with the fool, with the enthusiast for liberty !" And a crowd of men dressed in black seized upon her, and hurried her forward towards a large gloomy building with smaU grated windows. Pear and anger gave her strength ; she wrested herself out of their hands, and fled. Again the fire in her heart flamed aloft and bore her away and away, xmtil she heard no longer the threatening derisive cry. She now paused, and looking around saw that she had reached a large city, the smoke of which was seen ascending from a distance. Wearied, she sat down upon a stone, but she felt herself so solitary, so forlorn, so depressed because of the hardness of man, and because ,of the curse which rested upon her sex, that she began to weep bitterly. With that a splendidly brilliant cloud came floating from the near outskirts of the city, and settled down upon the earth close to the spot where Hertha sat. It was as if woven of fluttering gauze, spangled with silver and gold; lovely young girls stepped forth from its brilliant depths, 'in airy attire, with eyes that sparkled with joy, and garlands on their heads. They approached her and said : " Why do you weep ?" Hertha replied : " I weep because there lies a curse upon me and my sex, which banishes us from free labor and from joy." The girls laughed and said: "Oh, what curse? — ^what banishment? Don't trouble yourself about what the iU- tempered say. Only be right merry and gay, and then you may be as free as you wUl. You are too young and handsome 96 HEETHA. to cry away your life, . Come along with us and do as we do. We will receive you into our comptoy." " And what is it that you do ? And what are you ?" asked Hertha, with a beating heart, half-fascinated hy the appear- ance and the conversation of the girls, and half frightened by a something which she saw in them, but to which she could not give a name. The young women laughed, looked at one another, and replied : " We are called ladies of pleasure ; because we live for pleasure alone. We play with the hearts of men, and We rule them. If they are sometimes cruel to us in their sport, we cqn be revenged on them. And if we can once succeed in getting them into our net, there is no escape for them all their days. We ensnare, and laugh at those who fancy themselves our masters." "And what is the object of aU this, and. for what do you live ?" asked Hertha once more. The girls laughed and answered: "We live for the moment. We ask for nothing more than to enjoy the day as it passes, and to amuse ourselves- in the best way possible. We are the freest creatures in the world. We live freely, or at other people's expense, in all countries. We follow no laws but our own fancy ; we obey the voice of no duty. We take husbands and then leave them, just as it pleases us. We might have children like other women, but we do not bind ourselves hke other women to sit and slave for them;- we merely look after our own pleasures !" "You might have children, and yet will not take charge of them?" said Hertha, astonished. "Who then does, take charge of your little children ?" " We don't exactly know," replied the girls. " The people at the Foundling Hospitals sometimes ; we have not time for such things. We will be free women." " Oh," said Hertha, " your freedom^ is not of the kind which I yearn after. Your freedom is a mistake. You believe yourselves to be free, but you are slaves " hektha's deeam. 97 "What, we slaves!" interrupted the girls, laughing; " come, we will show you how we are bound !" And they drew Hertha along with them in the dancing circle ; in vain she besought of them to cease ; in vain to let , her go ; they dragged .her along with them, whirling round in the dizzy bewildering circles until her senses seemed about to leave her, and anguish took possession of her heart. But the gay ladies still danced and drank wine, exclaiming the while : " Thus, thus to the end of life ; thus, thus in eternity ! " " Oh, it is horrible !" exclaimed Hertha, as she at length freed herself ;from their trammels. " Away ! away ! with you ! I will have no part in your freedom !" The gay ladies laughed contemptuously. And again they veiled themselves 'm the splendid cloud, which now, borne away as if on millions of bt^tterflies' wings, was driven by the wiud back to the great city. It was a splendid sight, and Hertha heard for a long time their merry voices and laughter. Hertha looked after them with profound melancholy, and said to herself: "These think themselves free and happy; audi! " The fire burned in her heart, and she felt that she was born for something better than their hiappiness. But for what ? . _ ■ • " Oh," thought she now, " I wiU go to the learned and the wise of the earth, and ask them how the curse can be remov- ed, under which I and my sisters, and even those giddy beings who were here just now, are aU lying, and which deforms our life and our whole being. Of a certainty they wiU know, and of a certainty they wiU tell me how ; and I will then live and labor for this purpose every day and every hour of my life." The fire in Hertha's soul agaia lifted her from earth and- floated her away to a country and a people who were the most learned and 'the most deep-thinking in the world. In that country Germap was spoken. 5 as HEKTHA. Hertha anived at the yery moment wben a large general assembly of learned *nd ■wise men were convened and had divided themselves into three ohambersj each one of which had Hs own important science to attend to, and they were 'just now met in council. In the first chamber they discussed an importaijt question, viz. the beard of Therates, because the learned interpreted in diflFereut ways the word whicli Honier uses on this subject; a,nd they were now in such hot dispute, with their proofs and eounterproofe, that they were very near coming to blowis, all about "Thersites' beard." It was just at this moment when Heitha ^moanced herself and prayed to have an aiidience granted her. " What is she ? -^vhat does she want ?" asked the learned. " She says," replied the doorkeeper, " that she is a human being who seeks the emancipation of an oppressed portion of humanity." " What kin,d of ide^ is that ?" replied tb^ learned, shak- ing their heads in a gentlemanly sort of way ; " what does it concern us ? How dare she come with such common-place business to an assembly occupied with the subject of Thersite^ beard ? It is the*height of audacity and thoughtlessiaeaa! Stow the human-being out ! She wUl not gain anything hei'e !" Thus rejected, Hertha went to the seeond chamber and knocked at the door. Here they were at this moment moat deeply occupied on the tail of a new ^ecies of rat, as well as by the digestive process of a peculiar kind of animalcule, and they were so interested and so absorbed by these new dis- coveries, that thdy merely replied impatiently to Hertha's per tition: " We have not any time for souls i Gro to the legiski' tors and statesmen." Hertha presented herself therefore at the third chamber^ where the statesmen and legislators were sitting in council. They- were just then engaged on one of the four points of the QjieataJ question, and were skirmishing away with thousands of pe»s. To Hertha's petition they made answer that they were occupied with subjects of vital interest to the world, and HERTHA'S DEEAM. 90 had not time to busy themselves with ladies' affairs. They told her to lay her business before the ladies' chamber. " Yes," thought Hertha, as she turned- away from the assembly of "men, " I will go to the noble and thinking women of the country. They will perhaps be better able to compre- hend the importance of my business." She proceeded, therefore, to a laa-ge assembly of venerable matrons. They were all sitting and knitting stockings. " Oh, mothers !" said she, addressing them, " aid me, for the sake of your daughters, in removing the curse which lies upon our sex, and which prevents us from perfecting our being and attaining to the high purposes for which we would strive !" The matrons replied : " What do you mean ? We have our housekeeping to attend to ; our husbands and our children to care for. Our • daughters learn languages and music and ladies' work and housekeeping-business. Our sons pursue studies which will help them on in the world. We have quite enough to look after. Do not come and annoy us with your troubles !" " Is there nobody in the whole warld," said Hertha, asto- nished and wounded, " who can understand me and my errand, who will aid me in liberating the fettered and captive soul' of wonaan ?' " Go to France," replied the matrons. " The French are the politest men in the world, and are fond of revolutions. Try there. But it would be much better to stop at home and knit stockings. Between-times you could go to church and attend lectures." " Should I find justice and truth if I did so ?" asked Hertha, sorrowfully, as she turned her glance from the council of matrons to the assembly of young men. Here she saw a vast number of young fellows smoking cigars and rocking them- selves in rocking-chairs, whilst, in a half-fsleepy voice they asked, " What is truth ? what is justice?" After which they blew forth such a quantity of smoke that Hertha was nearly choked. 100 HEETHA. Her thoughts and soul then sped her away, without loss of time, to Paris. But such a terrific noise and bustle prevailed there that she felt wholly bewildered. It was at the time of a great "World's Exhibition, and everybody was pouring in thither. One portion of the people sang, " What shall we eat and drink, and wherewith shall we amuse ourselves ?" And another portion were holding a council as to how they could best destroy one another. Nay, they had' appointed a com- mittee to distribute rewards to such as had invented new species of fire-arms, or other destructive machines, which. in the shortest possible time could destroy the greatest possible number of human beings. And they were just now about to reward a person who had invented a kind of explosive giant bomb-shell, which would in a moment deprive whole batta- lions of grenadiers of tibeir eyesight. People were vastly enthusiastic, about this discovery, and it was intended to have a medal struck in honor of its inventor, so that he might be immortal. This assembly was in such a good humor, that they proposed to Hertha to make her a citizeness of France, on condition of her subscribing to the medal. But when Hertha mentioned her business, the gentlemen replied smiling, that that was quite another aifair, and that they had not now time to attend to it. But they bowed and protested that the ladies ruled the world; that they were all powerful through their charms ; and with that they rushed out to shout hurrah for Queen Victoria, who at this moment was making her entrance into Paris. And all the people of France drank the cup of brotherhood with the people-of England, and shouted " Vive I'Angleterre !" Hertha now recollected that she had always heard England mentioned as the true native .land of freedom and human kindness, and her yea.ming and the fire in her heart carried her at once thither. When she reached that country she felt herself invigorated and re-animated, because she perceived a powerful public spirit there, which made itself felt on all hands like a refresh- ing breeze, and she saw that the glorious tree of liberty, HEETHA'S DEEAM. 101 bearing its golden fruit, grew there more vigorously and to a larger size than anywhere else on the face of the earth. And here she saw the great John BuU standing in the midst of an immense throng of people, distributing orders and work, glancing meanwhile now and then into a French dictionary, and repeating phrases from it, because having now become veiy good friends with the superintendant of the French, whom they called Emperor, he wished to iuterlard his conver- sStion with polite phrases. John BuU looked so practical and so jovial that Hertha took' courage and addressed him. "Good sir, help me to liberate myself and my captive sisters." " Je suis charm6 ! " replied John Bull. " I am a champion of freedom and a great ladies' man, but — but — but — we are now so much occupied by the war in the East, and are at this very moment doing our best to perfect a huge projectile, a gigantic projectile which, when it explodes, wiU poison a whole city with its stench. It is a great matter, a very great matter. This is, my good girl, a great time for humanity, and if you and your sisters will come hither and help to cast bullets, or to give lessons in the French language, then—" "We could not do that," replied Hertha. "But help us, I beseech you, to gain our rights and om" liberty as human beings; then we will serve you in another way; we wUl help you to establish liberty, peace, and joy upon the earth." "Peace!" exclaimed John Bull, "I do not vpish now for peace, but for war." "War against the oppressor is a good and a right thing, and it is a glorious sight to behold free nations allied for this struggle," replied Hertha, "but we even amid war could extend the kingdom of peace." " I have not now time to aid you in such undertakings," said John Bull, impatiently, "my mind is occupied by the war in the East. Besides I am not quite sure that I should approve of your notions.- Woman's true sphere is domestic life. I must have my tea and my comforts, and the ladies to ' 102 , BERTH A. lool: after them. Woman must not he taken out of the family circle. I cannot therefore approve of your ideas and schemes of emancipation until I am assured that they ■wiU not interfere Vfith my tea and my daily comforts. Adieu, my good girl 1 But, by the by, yon had better go to my half- brother Jonathan, who lives yonder across the sea; he has plenty of time, and is always ready to take ttp wonderful in- ventions and crotchets. Or stop, I can give you better advice stUl. Go to Rome. There is at this very tinie a great Convocation of bishops and the clergy there. Talk with them. If they cannot give you counsel I don't know who can. They sit with their bibles before them all day and sleep Upon them 'at night. They ought to be. able to answer your questions. Good bye, madame ! Comment vous poftea^ous ? Tfes-Men, je vous remeroie /" "Rome, fetemal Rome ! " thought Hertha, and the fire in her h«a*t flamed aloft at the thought of all the greatness which once had lived there, and of all the beauty which StM survived. "Yes," thought she, "I wUl go thither^ I will fling tnyself at the feet of those spiritual men, and beseech of them to remove the curse which fetters me and my sisters." She saw Alttia Roma, and the great Concilium of the clergy, their proud forms and haughty glances. It waS a time of great solemnity, and Hertha heard them say : " Henceforth shall the whole of Christendom Worship the Vitgitt Maria, as a divine, supernatural being, for this has been commanded by the Holy Ghost, through his Bigh-priest, Pio Ifono." And a great festival Was ordained, ill honor of the divinity, and the*^e was a great jubilation^ Hertha heard this with astonishment, but tejdced at the same time, and bowing with profound reverence before the venerable gentlemen, she said : " You have exalted an earthly woman high above the living and the dead; of a certainty then you will aid her sisters, women now on the earth, in the acquirement of their temporal and eternal rights. Of A HEETHA'S DEEAM. 103 certainty you will give to them equal rights with men to strive after liberty, happmess, and a sphere of labor ? " ' " Wait a little," exclaimed the spiritual men ; " that is quite another thing. Let us see what stands written." And they began to turn over the leaves of their bibles, which lay open ' before them, till th«y found a passage which they read aloud. It stood written: "And thou shalt be subject to thy husband, . and he shall rule over thee." With that the fire flamed upwards in Hertha's soul and inspired her to say : " You do not give the whole, truth ; you speak only from the Old Testament. But I know there is also a N"ew Testament, and th^t it there statids written that woman has- been made free, and that man and woman are alike free iu Christ. I know also that it there stands written, that they wlio are worthy of the resurrection from death, neither marry nor are given in marriage, because they are hke the angelsj knd are the children of God. And do we not, indeed, pray daily that the wiU of God may be done on earth as it is done in Heaven ? Why do not you, the servants and potentates of Christ, speak to me the whole truth ? " With this one of the bishops, a liberal man, raised his voice and said : "The young woman is rights and we have aU done her an injustice. She whom Christ called mother and sister, with whom he conversed famDiarly, and to whom he revealed him- ' self after his resurrection, she, of a truth,. has become free thereby; her wiU ought not to be subject to the will of any other than that of the Most High, and she ought to be free to do all which God calls her to do. Let us enact laws more just as regards her than any hitherto enacted by human wisdom, that we may promote the advent of God's kingdom on earth as it is ia Heaven." But all the other bishops and spiritual men became angry at this, and opposed themselves to him, and called him a secret Protestant, a newsmonger, and a visionary. When the noise had again subsided, Hertha prayed to be allowed to say 104 HEETHA. a fe-w words. But the clergy exclaimed with loud and stern voices, " Let the women keep silence in the churches." And they extended their crosiers above Hertha, and bowed her to the earth. Grief of soul and a noble indignation caused the fire to burn more hotly in her heart, and inspired, her to speak a great and holy name, the haine of the Saviour. _ At the sound of this name the crosiers, which had pressed so heavily upon her, were suddenly raised, so that she no longer felt them. She named it a second time, and an invisible hand raised her up and strengthened her as by magical power. Yet a third time she named it, and the whole imposing assembly of cardinals' and bishops' robes gjrew dim, and seemed to fall together like white ashes, and were seen no more. A manly figure, full of majesty and beneficence, now seemed to move alone over the earth, raising aU who were bowed down or oppressed — the slave, woman, the prisoner, the poor, and the oppressed : thus passed he onward, whalsta radiance diffused itself as from the grey robe in which he was wrapped, until he appeared to vanish in the horizon. All space seemed with that to become vacant and dtsolate. "Oh!" thought Hertha, '■'•that was the Saviour, the de- liverer! Oh, that I could but find his kingdom! There would I abide and labor as the lowest of his servants !" And her soul's yearning and love caused her again to float over the earth towards the regions where she had seen the Saviour disappear. But below her sounded a chorus of female voices, like a low wind rising from the earth, which lamented : " Thou wilt seek in vain for his kingdom on earth. As yet justice has nowhere opened a path for the full revelation of ,love. Nowhere as yet have mankind followed the doctrine of the Saviour. We must yet for along time pray, 'Thy king- dom come !' Pray with us." " Tes, I will pray and — die !" thought Hertha, and it seemed to her that aU hope had expired within her, and that • her life must end. She felt weary of living. HEETHA'S DBEAM. 105 Aad now appeared before her inward eye a viBion of her native land. She remembered those grey moss-clad moun- tains, that old eternally green tree of freedom, the murmur of the Urda fountain, and the warlike songs of the swans. She knew that there^ in her &ther-land, women were more op- pressed, and had less independence allowed to them, ' than in any other Christian country ; but stiU it was her native land — a land rich in great memories and noble powers. An un- speakable longing seized upon her soul, and drew her hastUy thither; She again beheld them, those moss-covered primeval mountains, and heatd from afar the soughing of the mighty branches of the tree of the worldj and heard again the whispering voice amid it, which Said ; ■ " Listen to the tree-top's ■whispering. At whose home thj 6>oi is planted I" And there, at the foot of the tree, hilt, ah ! so fS,r, so very far from het, she beheld the large grave Nomor sitting by the UMa fountain, and jt seemed to her that she heard their voices speaking amid the soughing of the Mghty tree : It is for those spirits heroic. Those who have seen, For this, who have earnestly atriven. Ask not from man. List to the voice of the spirit. ■Watotthou, and wait thou. Only be worthy. Strong in endurance: The hour U advancing; Who hath seen, he shall conquer. Invigorating as the wind from the mountains was the sound of these rhythmical measured words. But their true Hgniflcance was concealed from Hertha, and they seemed to have reference to others rather than to herself. Again she was seated in her little nook in the bosom of the -s- 5* 106 HEETHA. granite mountain; she heard the monotonous song of the spitiners all around her. The cup-like leaves stood as before round her cell, and offerfed her the dew-drops which they had collected in their hollows. ' She agaiQ found everything pre- cisely as it was before; only she herself was no longer the same. She had lost the freshness of her youth and her former cheerful hope. She sate silently with but one wish, and that was to die. Days, weeks, months, years went on, but death came not. The cloudy sky hung grej and leaden above her head, and hard and cold the granite mountain inclosed her like a prison. Hertha felt her limbs becoming stiffened, but . ' the firfe within her heart neither grew chill nor dim. It burned ;* • restlessly and consumingly. Sometimes Hertha was strength- ened by the words of the Nornor, which seemed .to sound . through infinite space above her head : sometime8_her heart died within her under the depression of her monotonous existence, and she could not help sighing, " What wilt thou, oh thou restless flame of life ! There are moments when thou bumest brightly; but long weary times when thou merely bumest and torturest me, revealing the darkness within and around me ! Die out, poor spark ! die out ! Let it be night, and silent — for ever !" " Nay, hve ! Live, and enjoy life as we do !" exclarDEied voices at no great distance; and' Hertha again beheld the brilliant cloud and the girls with their garlands of roses. " Ton see," said they, " we are still near you. We are at home in all countries, and everywhere, are we alike — free and aUke happy. Be as we are !" " Away !" rephed Hertha. " Away, you lie ! I see that , your cheeks are painted, and your flowers are artificial. I see beneath your gay demeanor a secret unrest. Poor sisters! you are afraid of <51d age and death. Of them I am not afraid. I feel a something great within my suflfering and longing heart which I do not perceive in you. And rather than live happily, according to your happiness, I will die un- happy with those who are unhappy. I weep^— you smile : and yet, poor sisters ! I cannot but deplore you." HBETHA'S DKEAM. 107 With that the gay group departed in two comfpanies. The one laughing scornfully, but from the other were heard sor- rowful, lamenting voices : "And even we were at one time as thou art. We felt something within our hearts ; we sought for light and for freedom, but society barred to us the paths which led to light and to life ; and we were led astray by ignes fatui, which promised happiness and Uberty,,but which burned off those very wings which had lifted us upwards. We have fallen : we know it ; and that 'it is which makes our secret misery. Who counts our silent sighs? We might have been so different ! Now it is too late. Let us drink wine and forget ; for we must mdeed live !" Again the two companies united into one group. But in that same moment the rouge grew black upon their cheeks, and flames bursting forth from the earth caught their flutter- ing garments, and the splendid glittering cloud was changed into a heap of ashes. Hertha heard a wild cry of horror and anguish, which died away by degrees into lamenting sighs, whilst a stormy wind dispersed the ashes into space. Hertha wept over the fate of the daughters of pleasure. And anon slie turned to hear their dying voices hoarsely whispering in the tempest : " Weep for thyself. Thou art different, but thou art not better than we, and thy fate may become still more dreadful !" And it seemed to Hertha that her soul was changed, and that the upward-striving, yearning flame within it assumed another character. It had yearned to warm and to benefit : now it would merely punish. She herself was transformed into a horrible being, which spread destruction around her. The flame in her heart extended itself through all her limbs, and everything which she touched was kindled by it. Her hand had become a flaming torch. She laid it upon her father's house, and wUd flames burst fprth. She saw them grow high- er and higher, and spread on aU sides, setting fire to other and yet other houses. She heard the bells tolling, the beat of the alarm-drum, the shouts and terrified cries of people, the grating 108 HEKTHA. ■wheels of carts and of fire-engines. The noise and the tiuttolt increased every moment, and it seemed to be whispered illtoi her ear — " Pii'e ! incendiary fire !" An nnspeakab'le anguish overcame het, because it seemed to her that this was hef work. All at onee the thought occurred, as is sometimeg the case in distressing drBatiiS, " It must be a dream!" She endeavored to wake, striving violently with the dream-Spirit that held her captive ; at length she conquer' ed, and — ^awoke. IHE INCENDIART FIRE. A KED, wildly flaming glare lit up the sisters' room, which was situated within the court. The bells tolled ; the alarm- drum was sounding, and amid £t horrible din of human voices, one shrieking above anothet, the cries of " Fire ! fire ! Help ! help! "Water! throw" it here! Quick! Help! — Save us!" seemed to fill the air. Hertha fancied hetself StiU dreaming, or else delirious with the effect of the sleeping draught. But a glass of water which she hastily swallowed, and a violent blow upon the doof, together with the words " Hertha ! Come out ! Will yod be burned in yoifr bed ?" cleared away all the mists of Sleep. She opened^the door. 'Rudolph stood there, with bewildered loots. " Come !" said he, " come ! I will save you !" "Help me to save Alma first J" said Hertha, at once calm and decided. Rtidolph obeyed. Hertha hastily flung on her sister's clothes, Wi'apped her in a doak, and led her, assisted by Ru- dolph, into the court. Here they found old Aunt NeUa and the two youngest gifis trembling and crying, and almost with- out clothes. A quantity of fttrnitufe, bedding and household utensils, had already been throTvn into the court, which was thronged with people. Hertha reinoved her sisters and aunt to as great a distance from the house as was possible in the coUrt ; and desired them to wait for her thete. This done, She turned towards the burning house with a determined countenance, as if considering what must next be done. The whole of the upper portion of the house was on fire, and wild tongUes of flame flashed from the windows of the- second story. 110 HEETHA. " My father!" exclaimed Hertha,'" where is my father?" " There !" wHspered Rudolph in her ear, with a •wild sort of insane joy flashing in his eyes, and pointed up to the second story of the house, " there ! where the fire has just.now caught ! He cannot escape !" " "Wretched being ! what have you done ?" whispered Her- tha in reply, as a horrible idea presented itself like lightning to her soul. "Free yourself, and — ^me with you!" returned Rudolph. " Come ! I will save you I I will carry you through a thousand fires ! " And, throwing his arms round her, he held her fast as he endeavored to force her away. But Hertha thrust him from her with aU her strength, as, with a flashing glance, she exclaimed, " Hence ! Begone from me ! Save Mm, or— -I will never see you more ! " At that moment a horrible crash was heard. A portion- of the roof had fallen in, and volumes of thick smoke and whirl- ing flame burst forth from the abyss which was thus made. A moment's silence and astonishment succeeded. Then was heard a wailing and an agonized cry for help, like that of a weak old man or of a child. It seemed to proceed from that part of the house over which the roof had fallen. Another cry answered it from the court below ; a strong cry, sounding like "Yes!" fuU, of resolution and strength, and a young girl rushed into the burning house. It was Hertha. Rudolph was about to follow her steps, but a rafter which fell from the burning roof struck him on the head. He stumbled backwards, fell, and remained for some time without consciousness. Old Falk had been sound asleep over his treasures, beneath his pillow, when he was awaked by the cry of fire and the tumult in the street below. The chamber in which he lay was fiiU of a stifling smoke, which made his brain dizzy, and almost took away his breath. His first movement was to seize'his cash-box, and with this in his hand, he raised himself in bed, and tried to collect his senses. He called his faithful old servant by'her name, but received no answer. With dif- THE INCENDIAEY FIRE. Ill ficulty he raised himself to his feet, and endeavored to reach the door which opened into the dining-room. But his brain reeled, and his feet could not support him. He fell, and crept from where he fell, on hands and knees, 'to the dining-room door, shoving before him his precious casket. He had now reached the door, but both head and hands refused their office, when he attempted to stand upright. He called the old servamt ; he called Rudolph, and terror made his voice loud and strong, but no voice replied to his, and no hand un- fastened the bolted door. He fancied he could hear wUd shrieks of joy and derisive laughter in the room beyond, mingled with the roar and the crackling of the fire. Every moment the heat became fiercer in the chamber, and the smoke thicker. The anguish, as of death, seized- on the old man's heart — and the sweat of agony burst forth from his forehead, as in the depths of his soul he seemed to hear the words : " Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required from ^ thee !» And out of the darkness which thickened around him, he seemed to see pale countenances looking forth, gloomy and threatening ; gazing upon his torments. He knew them all again. They were souls which had been intriisted to him to protect and to make happy. They seemed now to ask him how he had ftdfiUed his duty -towards them. Smoke and flames encircled him, nearer and nearer every moment. He felt himself approaching the limits of life and beyond that he saw nothing, except a something, shapeless, indefinite, threat- ening, homble, more horrible for its indefiniteness than the most horrible form which reaUty could present ; a some- thing unknown and yet inevitable, which approached, every moment, nearer and nearer, beyond the most terrible death. Terror again gave him strength and consciousness sufficient to raise himself up, seize the handle of the door, and also to open it. But in the selfsame moment that the door was opened the heat smote him across the face, and a horrible crackling noise, together with a surge of smoke and flame which filled the whole apartment, caused the wretched old 112 HEBTHA. man to fall across the threshold, atid for the fest time forced a cry of lamentation and prayer out of that hard ehut-up breast ! " Lord, my God ! ' wilt thou thus suffer me to die ? Lord, my God, have mercy upon me ! Help, help !" And his hands for one moment released their hold of the eash-box, that they might be dasped together in an agonized^ death-agonized prayer. Again a frightftd crackling noise of burning was heard hi the room. The opposite door was flung opefa, and there, enveloped in smoke and flame, stood, not the angel of judg- ment ; but, like an angel of deliverance, the old man's daugh- ter, Hertha. He stretched towards^ her his trembling hands. She rushed -forward to him and raised him in her £irms. She never had beheved herself so strong as now, nor ever had she been so. She cstrried her father through the burning dining-room. His trembling hands grasped convulsively the precious money-box " There is yet time !" said Hestba, encouraging and com- forting him. " Be not afraid, my £a,ther ! We soon shall be out in the open air." The flames almost choked the assurance oh her tongue, and seemed as if they would bar her onward advaneei They scorched her cheeks and her clothes, but she staggeifed not nor hesitated. " Courage, courage, my father !" whispered she aS shfe bore onward her precious burden through the midst of raging fire, as calmly and resolutely as if no death-peril were at hand. She knew of a certainty, she felt it -vpithih herself, that she should save her father. The flames stretched out, hissing behind her, their serpent-like tongues ; soon they no longer reached her. She went steadily down the long flight of staks ; the roof of the dining-room falling in behind her. When Hertha descended the steps from the lobby into the court, bearing her father in her arms, the people hurraed and waved their hats. Then, and not till then, hfer Umbs foiled THE INCENDIAET FIRE. 113 her ; she sank down upon her knees, hut did not loose hold of the burden which she bore, faithful as a mother who holds her child clasped to her breast, held she her father, with her' eyes fixed only on him. He appeared almost unconscious. — She drew a deep and strong breath. " We are saved,, father," whispered she, " breathe, breathe, my father !" • ^ People crowded round them, and conveyed them from the immediate neighborhood of the flames, to the spot where the rest of the family were assembled. The old man, by degrees, regained the use of his senses ; but the violent shock which his nerves had sustained caused a tremor of the whole body, and when, not without emotion, he had pressed all his chil- dren to his heart, he sat gazing immovably, and without utter- ing a word, at his consuming property. Hertha, having drunk a glass of water, appeared perfectly restored, and immediately busied herself in preparing hand- barrows and bearers, and, having made beds with mattresses and coverlets, on which to lay her father and Alma, had them conveyed from the scene of conflagration. She and the others, old Anna among the rest, — ^who had gone to sleep that night by the kitchen fire, instead of her own room, adjoining the chamber of her master, whence it happened that she was not within Mis call, — ^now all left the court. The fire had already caught several houses in the neighborhood, and these now also were burning with a violence which defied every attempt at extinguishing it. The inhabitants fled from all the houses in the neighborhood of this growing destruc- tion ; they threw from the windows, bedding, mirrors, earth- enware, in the wildest conftision. The fire, the terror^^ the throiig, and the tumult increased every moment. Hertha, who observed, by the direction in which the flames were driven by the wind, that the fire would probably extend to the northern portion of the tQwn, which consisted^ in great measure? of wooden houses, immediately turned her steps, with those of her femily, in the- opposite du-ection, across a bridge which spanned the river Klar, to a meadow, planted 114 HBETHA. with trees, outside the town, where the inhabitants amused themselves in the summer^ and which ^as called the King's field. Magy of those who were already hoitteless, or who feared to become so, followed her example. And they who did so, did well. Because they who removed with their res- cued property to houses or to situations near to the fire, had a second time to leave their places of refuge for others more remote from the increasing conflagration. The wind unfortu- nately rose, and blew' violently, so that the flames were driven onward, in still more terrible career, from house to house, from lane to lane. The wooden dweUings were consumed like tinder. ' And now again was exhibited, both as regarded the extitt- guishing of the fire and the work of removing and saving the inhabitants of the burning houses, the method which on so many ^mUar occasions has distinguished the temperament and habit of the Swedes, and which we have already spoken of and designated as " the hand-over-head-method," but which in this particular case was governed by no kind of internal harmony. The superior authorities of the town, the sheriff of the district) and the Burgomaster, could not agree as to the mode by Vhich the fire should be extinguished. The fire-engines were found either not to be at hand or else they were out of order ; many of iihe hose were utterly useless ; water was called for, but none came ; many commanded, but nobody obeyed ; and perhaps could not obey because the conmiands were issued in the most bewildering confusion, hither and thither, now this and now that. Besides which, a. great number of persons became, in the terror of that awful firCj perfectly confused La their understanding. One tall strong man was seen busily occupied in saving a doll's chest of drstwers, another hurried along the streets with an empty drinking-glase in his hand, a third wheeled out of the town four bundles of fire-wood in a wheelbarrow ; one old lady rushed out of her house with her bunch of keys in her hand, and a young lady, too hurried to attire herself^ carried a ball-dress on her arm. Many worthless people availed themselves of the hoiTor THE rVCBNDIAKT FIKE. 115 and Gonftision of the time to plunder and carry away the property of others. And none were found to guard against this mischief Many good citizens, who did njjt lose their presence of mind, made unheard-of efforts to extinguish the fire and save both life and property from its destruction ; but these were either each one for himself, of they Were in detached groups, so that system and co-operation were wanting altogether. In the meantime the fire advanced in its destructive career with the iucreasing wind. Before morning had dawned, every one of the lanes opening into the street in which stood the house of the Falks, as fer as the large market, was a heap of smouldering ashes, and soon after, the market itself was burning at every comer. The new Assembly House, with its splendid baU-room, where the great fency baU was to take place, the anticipation of which had made so many a young heart beat with joyful hope, took fire, and the flames danced as if with joy through the spacious apartment, devouriag alP the new silken curtains and furniture, melting the splendid eband«Her, and turning to ashes all the gilding and the. other grandeur. An hour afterwards, and the great house oppo- site was also burning — ^that very house, where, the evening before, gods and goddesses chatted so merrily together. The silver-haired golden-wedded pair, the handsome host and hostess, with their young daughters, the seven Miss Dufvas, stood houseless in the market-place, and saw their comfortable home become a prey to the flames. In the course of the forenoon all the houses in the market- place were burning, and the fire flung itself down into the streets and lanes where the poorer portion of the town's popu- lation dweltj Presently it had reached the Great Quarter, that great rubbish-quarter, as Mimmi Svanberg called it, and a whole mass of miserable old men and women, ragged queans with their streaming hair, and half-naked children, poured forth peU-meD, together with piles of broken ftimiture, halves of tables and fragments of chairs, tattered bedding, coffee- mills, dirty buckets ; every three-fourths of the whole being 116 HEETHA. nameless indescribable, things, in chaotic confusion. The con- fusion among the laborers at the fire became also stiU greater and greater. Many grew weary of their work, when they saw that the fire only increased more and more. Many also had become pitiless, and not seldom were heard in reply to prayers for help or succor the cruel words, " It is no business of mine !" or " You may do it yourself!" No one com!maoded, no one obeyed any longer. People rushed about everywhere, and saved what they could, and let . the fire and fate take their own course. " To-day it is come to pass that "the gentleman and the servant are aU as one. He that will work, does so ; and he who will not, lets it alone !" said a working man, whose whole appearance proved how unceasingly and bravely he himself labored ; " but then you see," added he, " I can't think; for my part, how anybody can let working alone !" And so say- ing, he again hurried out to render assistance wherever he ■Saw that it was needed. It was the pastor's man-servant, tBe respectable Jacob, who now saw the cause of his mistress's premonition, and contended rfisolutely against its sad reality, , The reality exhibited a surging ocean of flame, heaving in the wind and spreading on all sides ; a tumultuous mass of terrified and houseless people flying with children and house- hold stuff out of the burning town into the King's-field, where now safety from the devouring element could only be looked for. In the midst of this press of people, and this confusion of ruin, an elderly lady, around whose person a mass of parti- colored garments fluttered-like feathers, in the wind, might be seen, wildly seeking something, and hurriedly .inquiring right and left : " Have you seen my noble young lady ? Can no one tell me which way my young lady, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, is gone ?" " Oh, she's gone straight down the fire and brimstone pit !" said a working man, -who wished to be witty. THE INCENDIAEY FIEB. IIV " Ko," said another, " I saw her posting off to heaven, right out of the fire, with outstretched arms and streaming hair, and she kept shrieking,' ' My nohle lady ! my noMe lady !' so there need be no wailing about her !" " And I," said a third, " I saw her running out of the town, with a butter-tub under one arm and a huge cheese under the other. She must be at Stockholm by this time, so as she ran ! " "That must have been before she set off to heaven," remarked the former, '^because I can swear that I saw a noble young lady, who looked the very image of a curly bear,* and who- " " Ah ! you are a parcel of goOd-for-nothing fellows, and you are telhng lies altogether !" exclaimed Mrs. Tupplander, for it was she. " Oh, my unfortunate young lady ! Where is she ? where is she? Can nobody tell me where the Honorable Miss Krusbjom is gone !" Two ladies were now standing on the little bridge which crossed the river Klar, watching the fire. They were the pastor's wife, Mrs. Dahl, and Mimmi Svanberg. " Ah, my presentiment !" said the former, " I felt such an evident impression last evening, that a great misfortune hung over the town. The poor, poor people ! " A hand lightly touched the shoulder of the pastor's wife, and a gentle voice said, " This is a terrible sight, dear Mrs. Dahl. "What is to be done ? Could we not help the poor creatures one way or other ?" The pastor's wife turned round and reco^sed the young and lovely Countess P., who, dressed in a quilted petticoat, with silk shoes on her feet, and a shawl over her head, had hastened from the house, which they inhabited for a time, and was now on her way to the fire. " Of a certainty we ought to do so," said the ever-ready Mimmi Svanberg, " at least, I, who am strong. The Countess and Mrs. Dahl I think would do best not to stand here and * Krnsbjorn. 118 HERTHA. run the risk of taking cold, but go home and order coffee and soup to be made for the poor sufferers, for I fancy there will soon be great need of it. I have ordered my Lovisa to set on the large coffee-pot — ^I left papa himself bway grinding." " Ah, good heavens ! have you none of you seen my noble; _yoTing lady !" cried a shrill, despairing voice, and the three ladies presently beheld Mrs. Tupplander, in a costume almost as remarkable" as her looks were wild, comiug towards them, as if on flying feathers. " Where, where can she be gone ?" " Where was she when you saw her last, dear Mrs. Tupp- lander ?" asked Mimmi Svanberg. "Ah, she was in the midst of my salting^tubs," replied Mrs. Tupplander, " because, although the fire had not reached my house, yet it might do so without giving any notice, and, therefore, I reSolved to get all my things into a place of . safety ; and I and all my people carried off what we could. But just as I thought that we had got most of the things safe, and that Miss'Krusbjorn should keep watch over them, she — was nowhere to be found, and nobRdy can tell me -where she is gone ! But when I saw her last she was among the salting- tubs 1 " " Then .she will eome there again," said Mimmi Svanberg, consolingly ; " becaa^ if she has once safely escaped the fire, she will assuredly not run into it again." " Yes, but who knows that ?" said Mrs. Tupplander, refusing to be comforted ; " the fire makes people lose their wits ! Ah, my poor Krusbjorn ! My poor young lady !" "I will- go and give orders for making soup," said the pastor's wife ; " that is a good idea, Fortunately we have lately killed a bullock." " And I will order both soup and coffee," said the young Countess ; " but now I should Kke to help the poor people to save their things. Look, there are two young girls, who are carrying a bed, and almost staggering under their load. There is certainly a sick person in the bed. Let us help them !" In the bed lay a poor, old sick woman from the Great THE INCENDIAKY FIEE. 119 Bnl>bis}i Quarter. She lay crippled with rheumatism, aad heard the tumult of the fire, and saw the flames thrust their fiery tongues through the cracks of the waUs, afl.d thought to herself, " I must be burned here in my bed, because nobody will think of me, poor wretch !" But two very young girls — "young baggages^" as they are c»Il^4 in the quarter, because their clothes were ragged, and they could not get into service for want of better clothing — they thought of the poor old creature, and one said to the other : " Let us go and save the poor soul !" And with that they burst open ,the door, carried out the bed in which was the old woman, and so through the burning streets in the direction of the King's-field ; but the bed was heavy, apd they were neajrly sinking beneath their burden, when two ladies were seen hastening towards their aid. These were Mimmi Svanberg and the young Countess. With their help the old woman was brought into the field, in safety fi:om the flames, and the Countess took off her own shawl' to defend her from the cold, whereupon she, spite of all her protestations, was wrapped in the woollen jacket which Mimmi Svanberg wore under her cloak. After that the two hastened to help others who also were heavily laden. Every moment increased the number of the houseless who fled to the King's-field. And with every moment the conflagration grew ; and the wind rose more and more. It was am awM and a sorrowful sight. Nevertheless, it was impossible for Mimwi Svanberg to avoid smiling, as die saw Mrs. Tupplander fluttering about in her extraordinary costume, seeking among the qjrowds of fugitives, and incessantly crying, "My noble young lady! Has nobody seen my noble young lady!" Sometimes she shrieked aloud in a shrill voice, " Miss Krusbjom !" But no voice replied. The Countess P. and Mimmi Svanberg had now met with an active fellgw-worker in their Samaritan labors. This was Hertha, who had no sooner seen her own famUy in safety, 120 ' HBETHA. grouped at the foot of a large oak-tree, than she hastened t render all the help in her power to other homeless people. It was noon, and no hounds were set to the destructiip- element, which seemed as if it inight extend its ravages ore the whole, of the town. The mass of the people and the towi authorities were now alike without courage or counsel; an( scarcely any further attempts were made to stem the tide o: destruction. At the distance of six English miles from the town w^r working, this very morning, fifty men on the new railway under command of Lieutenant Nordin. "There is a fire at Kungskoping !" said he to the navvies " and it seems to me that they are in want of a good deal o1 help. I have seen a tremendous smoke ever since day-break and it appears to increase, rather than otherwise. I shall g( there, and any of you lads, who like to go with me, ar( welcome. I should be glad to say to any such, that the] should have their day's wages. But that I cannot do, becaus( it is tolerably certain that they will have nothing for theii trouble." Every one of the fifty, immediately and without hesitation accompanied their young and beloved overseer. In about two hours they were on the spot. Yngve Nordin and a couple of his acquaintances, hastily arranged a plan foi preventing the progress of the fire ; and when the fifty fresl pair of ai-ms, which Yrigve had brought with him, unani mously and vigorously obeyed their commander, a new tun was soon ^ven to the work of extioguishing the fire, II began really to abate, and its further progress seemed stayed, Nevertheless, they were met by unforeseen difficulties, partlji .through the failing supply of water, and partly through the want of harmony among the city authorities. For instance, a number of young navvies had succeeded in raising a sail-cloth to the roof of a house which stood in the corner of a narrow lane, and just opposite to one which was burning furiously. They considered themselves .perfectly sure of saving this house, and a whole row of others. There they TI-IK INCKNDIAKY F«BB. 121 sat upon the roof, pouring torrents of water over their sail- cloth, when orders came from the magistrates that the sail- cloth must be taken down, in order to be placed upon another house which was already on &e. The young fellows ventured to act in opposition to the authorities assembled in the market' place. The magistrates' messenger was sent crest-fallen away, and they still sat triumphantly on the roof. But, as a matter of course, they were the minority ; the majority in the lane below were determined to have their own way; the navvies were obliged to loosen their ropes and give up their own schemes. The sail-cloth was carried off in triumph, and the end of it was, that the house itsel:^ and many others near it, together with the sail-eloth, were all consumed. " We must pull down that house," said Nordin, an hour later, spe.aking with decision to the magistrate, and pointing to a house which had not yet taken fire, but was so situated as to render such a step necessary. "PuU it down!" exclauned the other, almost shedding tears ; " surely it is quite enough for the houses to be burnt down without our pulling them down. "No, that shall never be done as long as I live !" Tnge was obliged to restrict his operations to the well- directed use of the fire-engine tubes. He put himself at the head of this part of the business, he himself working one of the hose. But now water failed them. " Be so good as to let us have some water here !" said he to a gentleman who stood quite calmly at a short distance from him, watching the fire, with his hands in his pockets, " we must have more water here immediately, otherwise we cannot save this house." . " It is no business of mine !" replied Mr. Von Tackjern. ^ " I don't trouble myself about anybody's house but my own, and that stands safe yonder. That is the house I keep watch over." " Certainly, your house is not yet in danger, and with God's help it shall not be so," said Yngve; "you can, therefore, without any risk, go and see after water," 6 -123 HERTHA. " Go yourself, and the devil take you !" replied the surly and selfish proprietor of the unendangered house. Tngve Nordin, as quick as lightning, gave him. a box on the ear, and was just about to rush after water himself, when a voice in the crowd exclaimed : " Stay where you are ! — ^in a moment water shall be here !" The voice was that of a woman ; it was Hertha's. She and Mimmi Svanberg, in the course of their work of salvation, had been brought to this place, and had thus heard the altercation between the two gentlemen. Before many minutes were over, Hertha returned with a hand-water-cart, which she herself drew. In the meantime, Mimmi Svanberg saw Mr. Von Tackjern talking, in an under-voice, to a strong-limbed, coarse-looking working-man, to whom he gave some money. On this the man nodded assentingly, and immediately as Nordin, who continued to direct the hose, turned round to look after the much needed water, he received so violent a blow between.the eyes fi-om this hired ruifianj tha,t the spectacles which he wore, on account of being near-sighted^ were smashed on his face. ' Without staggering or pausing a moment, Nordin returned him so heavy a blow on the side of his head as to knock' him down, after which he slunk off, uttering imprecations. Nordin, near-sighted ^s he was, seemed, in the meantime, helpless, although, fortuna/tely, his eyes were uninjured by the blow, and fortunately, also, he was not unprovided for in case of accident. With the utmost calmness, as if nothing unplea- sant had occurred, he took a second pair of spectacles from his pocket, and turned himself again to work. When, however, he was about to retake the pipe, he saw, to his surprise, that it was in the hand of a young woman, who was not for the moment directing it upon the fire, but upon the fellow who had dealt the insidious blow, and the person who had hired hini. Both rushed away fi-om the unex- pected dusch-bath. Hertha laughed, and then directed the mouth of the hose against the fire. But the enraged fellow turned again, and was rushing towards her, uttering a volley THE INCESTDIARY FIBE. 123 of insult, when once more she directed the pipe against his mouth, and the torrent of water drowned its coarse abuse, after which it was again turned to the flames. Yngve, who immediately recognised Hertha, stood for a few minutes the silent spectator' of her deeds, and seemed to have great enjoyment in thus watching her. But when he saw the sparks of fire &11 upon her beautiful plaits of hair, for the handkerchief which had been tied on her head had fallen back upon her shoulders, he took off his cap and put it on her head. " Tou work well, comrade," said he, smiling, and with a tone that expressed heartfelt esteem, as he took the hose from her hand, " but your hand is not strong enough for this work ; it is better suited to mine. Thank you for the help you have given." " If I can be of any use here, say so at once," said Hertha, replacing the cap on his head, and drawing the handkerchief over her own. "Take care, if possible, that there is no want of water here," said Tngve, "and then, with God's blessing, we shall soon put an end to the fire." " Good !_ you shall not want water," said Hertha, hastening away. She talked with several of the unoccupied people among the crowd, and succeeded, by her earnest words, and her animated and resolute demeanor, in inducing them to assist her, and in this manner she had soon organized a syste- matic and regular line of water supply, from the Klar to that part of the conflagration where N'ordin and his men were working. Abeady the fire began to abate. It was evident to all who were near that this was the most important point, and that if the fire could now be extinguished, any forther danger of its progress was over. " Now for it, my- lads ! " said Tngve. " Some of you must mount on yonder wali, in order to direct the water from that devation upon the opposite house. If you can extinguish the fire there, all is right!" More ready or braver-hearted people, in the hour of danger, 124 HEBTHA. than -the Swedish -worldag-olasses, are nowhere 'to be met with. In a moment the men were seen clambering up the yet burning ruins. When they had reached the top of the wall they raised an hurrah of triumph. The force of the water from this height was very great. In half an hour the conflagration was stayed ; all danger from its farther extension was over. Again they hurrahed, standing on their dangerous elevation, and the next moment the wall fell, with all its array of brave laborers. An hour afterwards Yngve Nordin^was borne away from the smoking ruins by his yojmg comrades, with one knee and his left arm greatly injured by the falling wall, the last achievement of the fire. But he would not consent to be removed from the spot before he had collected aU his men around him, and convince ed himself that no lives were lost "of those who had scaled the wall. He took counsel with the physician of the place respect- ing such as were injured, and having arranged everything for their comfort and well-being, allowed.himself to be removed- to the parsonage, outside the^ town, where, during the time triat his works on the rsiUway would keep him in that neighi lft)rhood, he had his home. ' Night came down; the conflagration was stayed ; the drum beat in joyous announcement ; but more than two thousand persons, whom the fire had ruined, or rendered homeless, wandered about the town or in the fields outside. NIGHT m THE KING'S-FIELD, The greater number of the fugitives were assembled in the Bjng's-fleld, because it lay nearest to the portion of the town in which the fire had raged, and because its la];ge although yet leafless trees affos ded some little shelter. Gloomy and leaden hung the sky of that March night above the still burning ruins, of the town. Now and then flames were seen to leap up from amid masses of fallen houses, which flung a ■ di-eary LQumination over the desolation which lay within, and the sorrowful spectacle in the field outside. There might the miserable fugitives be seen wandering about, not knowing what to do, or sitting in groups keeping watch over their rescued possessions, many with their heads tied up, or with bandaged eyes or limbs, testifying of their too close contact wjth the fire, and all pale, dejected, and wearied ; the greater part of them hopeless and bewailing. The gloom of the night seemed only to increase the misery. They were •perished with cold ; children cried, and- many a mother had no means of keeping her little ones warm but by clasping them to her bosom. Many a poor wretch seemed perfectly stupified by dark and gloomy despair. In vain Mimmi Svan- berg and the young Countess went from one to another, ofier- ing them warm coflTee and bread, and a comfortable fire-side at either of their houses ; nobody was thirsty or hungry ; nobody was willing or dared to leave their rescued household stuff. They thanked the kind ladies almost with indifference, and continued to sit staring on the ground, at the reeking ruins, or out into the darkness. The wailing of the children, now and then a cry of misery, and heavy sighs of deep anguish, alone broke the melancholy silence. 126 HEKTHA. Here and there people were talking about the cause ant origin of the fire ; dark suspicions were uttered, and th( TTords, ," it was done on purpose," were whispered from on« to another. Here and there also people were scheming hon they best could take advantage of the darkness and the con- fusion ; and Mimmi Svanberg heard a motherj,say repfoach- fully to her son, a lad of ten years old : " If you were only like a fox and brought home what you could get, then you would be worth something !" The lowest classes of the toipi's population, so long left neglected in their wretchedness and ignorance, had become dangerous, and the better classes, both of the poor and the rich, were afraid of them, and not without reason. Hertha had succeeded in placing her family in a certain degree of comfort. The father and the invalid sister lay on mattresses at the foot of an old oak tree. The younger sisters yere also warmly clad ; and Uttle Aunt Nella sat, not unlike a great bundle of rags, restlessly working her fingers upon the precious portfolio, in which lay the papers of the great lawsuit, and puzzling her poor brain to find out whether this fire would not deliver her from some of its involved intrica- cies. Rudolph had been imwearyingly helpful to Hertha in ar- ranging all in the best possible manner for the comfort of the whole family; and ypt Hertha would not reward him with one kind word, nor even one glance. She spoke affec- tionately to her little sisters ; she wrapped shawls around her father's feet; she warmed Alma's hands in her bosom and upon her cheeks ; she looked after the comfort of Aunt NeUa and old Anna with kind solicitude.; for all she had words of affection and encouragement, but not for Rudolph, although he seemed to watch for her eye, as the faulty and chastised dog watches for the for^ving eye of his master. The Director sat almost immovable, gazing towards his burned-down house, and his lips now and then muttered, as if unconsciously, the thought which most haunted his squl ; " It Avas not insured I" He continued to tremble as if shivering NIGHT IN, THE KING'S-FIELD. 12? •with cold. Now and then he convulsively clutched at his money-box. The darkness veiled more and more the sorrowful picture, but no sleep visited .the eyes of the imfortunate fugitives. Snow-flakes fell and mingled themselves with the ashes, which the night wind scattered over their heads ; dull, lamenting cries and sorrowftd groans were carried by it across the'field. All at once a strong voice was lifted up, which exclaimed ; " ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest !' thus, my afflicted friends, cried the Redeemer to you, yesterday and to-day. Listen to his message." At this unexpected declaration all heads were raised. But the darkness at this moment was so dense that no figure could distinctly be seen, no one tiould discern the messenger. All the more powerful, therefore, was the impression produced by those words which resounded across the field, amid the dismal darkness of the night, from the lips of the invisible preacher, who, with a voice and power full of inspiration, conveyed the consolations and light of the Gospel to those miserably unhappy people sitting in the midst of darkness ; showing them the all-seeing eye of the Father guarding them in the gloom of night, the loving Father's heart ready to console aU, to help all. Never did any sermon improvised for the moment produce a deeper efiect upon its hearers. The stupor of misery, silent despair, and gloom passed away from the soul ; people spoke ; they wept ; they sobbed aloud ; but it was no longer because they were inconsolable. They were profoundly arrested, they were unspeakably aflfeoted by the thought of Him who .bore with us the crown of thorns and the cross, and who bore them for our salvation. Never before bad his image been presented so clearly and brightly to the minds of the listening people. They poured out their emotions, like the waves, of a surging ocean, in sighs and tears, as they listened to the powerful and faithful discourse of the preacher. All at once, this was interrupted by a wild shriek of seltaccusation : 128- . HERTHA. ■ "It was I; it was I who caused all this misery, I ." Here the voice was sUenoed, as if stifled by external violence. The darkness prevented its being known from whom the cry proceeded; but some persons who were near fancied that they saw a figure, like that of a youth, tastUy raise itself, as from the ground, but which was almost as hastily dragged down again by another figure. Darkness and silence again covered the scene. There was a moment of deep and breathless sUenoe. AU seemed to be expecting that a dark mystery was about to be revealed ; that the author of the fire was about to come forward to avow his guilt, and many hands were involuntarily in motion ready to seize upon the ^crimihal. They waited, one, two, three, four, five minutes ; but aU remained gilent. A dull, threatening murmur, like that of approaching thunder, was then heard -rising from the mass of people in the field, the murmur from a thousand breasts and lips ; but above this again was raised, loud and powerful, the rmld and manly voice of the first speaker, exclaiming : " Shduld there J)e here any guilt-burdened heart which would accuse itself of causing accidentally, or by design, the misfortune under which so many are suffering, then — ^may God have mercy upon him ! We desire not his confession ! It would not be any benefit to us. It might make others more unfortunate than they already are. Let him keep silence. God will speak as a judge in the depths of his heart, And if that voice should become more terrible than> he can bear, let the unhappy, one remember, that the Lord our God is a forgiving God ; that if our own heart accuses us, God is still greater than om- own heart, and knows aU things. Le1 us 'not judge one another !'? At this moment the blush of niorning was kindled in the eastern horizon, on the other side of thfe desolated town, anc its rosy light gleamed beautifully against the dark clouds The preacher paused for a moment in order to turn the minds of his hearers from thought of the incendiary to that of th( Redeemer. NIGH'^J IN THE KftSTO'S-FIELD. 129 " See," exclaimed he, " see the sign of the Redeemer ia the sky; the smi, the light which again ascends after the dark night. Read the handwriting of fire in the Heavens ! No night without a morning ; no sorrow without God's mercy over it ! As the light comes to the earth so comes the deli- verer, the consoler to us. Behold His light ! Listen to His words and His promises. My friends, let us stand up and praise him by our song, 'Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord ! ' " It was a profoundly affecting sight, when that great multi- tude of people, many of whom had lost their aU in the fire ; hundreds and hundreds of men and wojnen, old people and children, stOl pale and bearing the trace's of the misfortune which had despoiled them, a,ll at once, as if impelled by a mighty iiiipulBe, rqse like one man, and under the guidance of their spiritual teacher struck up the glorious hymn — " Hosanna to the Son of David." , | Higher and higher ascended the flames of the morning radiance, diffusing light over the whole country; and still louder and more powerful became the song, and every counte- nance, lately so pale and gloomy, looked now, turned towards the ascending light, and illumined by its splendor, like a choir of redeemed and thanksgiving spirits.. Tears ran plentifully from many an eye, but there was no longer the pang of des- pair. Many a year hence will more than one of those now present testify, " For all that of which the fire deprived me, would I not have been deprived of that moment." Among those who took no part in the universal transport of devotion was Rudolph. Hertha's evident abhorrence of him, and the sight of all the want and misery which the con- flagration had caused, threw a terrible light on the dim consciousness of the yoOng man's mind.^ He how felt within him, unpressed, as it were, in fire and burning flame, the per- ception of the criminality of a deed which, according* to the measure of his dull faculties, wag* merely intended for the liberation of himself and his beloved, as well as for the punish- ment of the tyrant. The words which had been spoken amid 6* .#. 130 HEETHA. ■« the darkness of the night, filled as it was, with sighs and lamen- tations, awoke in him a despairing desire, to acknowledge Mb guilt and to die. Hertha would weep over him ; God nsfould forgive him. These thoughts openedifot him a door of esqape from the gulf which threatened to swallow him up, and his newly-awa,kened feelings broke forth in a cry of self-aciGusation, which yet £iiled to reveal the dark mystery, because it was checked by the hand of Hertha, which suddenly closed his lips. "Silence! Will you be the death of me ? Silence;, or I will never forgive you ! '? .^ , ., ;r. , With these words she drew him down to her on the grou|a4, and talked earnestly to him, in an under voice, whilst tbp heavens tinged themselves with, rosy light, and the Hjjsanu^ir song resounded above their hea^ds. She pressed into.MslvEm^ the small sum of money which $he possessed, and whiph she had earned by her own labor, together with her-only trinket, a little gold cross, which she had inherited, from her mother; and, before the hymn had ceased, or the sun had arisen above the horizon, Budolph was no longer to be seen on the King's- ^eld. ■ , ' ., ;, .. Tlie singing was over, and the throng of people who had risen to their feet in the inspiration of the moment, soon again sank down to earth, and to the troubles and wants of the day. Again were seen on the King's-field thorthre^ ladies, who the evening bsfore had in yain, offered refreshment ; they were now attended by two girls, who bore u,pon a yoke on thei;r shoulders, large, baskets, cpntaining coffee and bread. Th,e " young baggages " had been hastily clothed, and now resem- bled very decent young women, as they foUo'wed, with their huge 'baskets of rye-bread, Mimmi Svanberg gmd her compa- nions from one suffering group to anothei?, distributing the refreshing beverage, together with consolatory and encouraging word$, ,, And seldom had Mimmi Svanberg found greater necessity for the cheering influence of her hand and tongue. ," Q-ood morning, my deair. woman. See here, 'drink a cup of warm coffee ; it will cheer you up. Yes, i^t is a great mis- fortune ; but all evil in this world passes away. Look, here is NIGH1 IN THE KING'S-FIELD, 131 a roll to dip into your coflfee. "What nice little children yoii have ! It was of God's mercy that none of them were injured in the fire. Yes, one has always something to be thankful for. But such children as 'these always bring joy with them. See hiere, little ones, you shall each have a nice wheaten cake and a drop of coflfee. They are good^ are they not ? And beau- tiful weather, too, we shall have to-day. After a stoi-m God always lets the sun shine." " And, good Master Smithsop, how are you going on ? Badly enough I see. But .our good, clever Doctor Hedermann will come and dress your bums, and then, when they are bet- ter, such a good, clever fellow as you are, will soon get your forge and bellows up again, and you will have a great deal of work to do when the town comes to be built up. It will be the making of you, Master "Smithson ; both you and your femily will be three times as well off as before ! Drink a cup of coffee on the strength of it, and take a roll too. Every one is the smith of his own fortune. Master Smithson, and that you'll find one of these days." " Poor Mother Greta, with such a lot of little ones ! Look, here is something nourishing both for you and them. We will, after this, have a' famous large room for our In&nt School, and then Mother Greta must promise to let the chil-^ dren go regularly to it. It won't do to let the young creatures be running about the streets, as they have done. Look, little children, there's bread and warm coffee fi)r you. Now you'll be good children and go regularly to school ; everything wiU be so much better when you are not in that miserable, unhealthy quarter. There is no misfortittie so bad but that some good iinay come out of it. And we must, all of us, try to bring good out of evil." 'i ^"And now good morning to you, old "mother in bed. Tou won't say no to a drop of coffee, I fancy. How old are you ? Eighty ! That is a good old aige. You can do with two cups, sperhaps. Drink, my good woman, and keep your heart up ! It win, perhaps, be all the better for you in the end. Such a miafortune as this brings you under %h.e notice of people. 132 ^HERTHA. Look you, mother, there are the girls that carried you out of the fire. . They have got nice" new clothes for that, and hoth you and they may live to see good days yet. Our Lord never forgets us, and everybody, one day or another, finds that out. At noon I shall bring you some warm soup." "Little Mina! God bless the child! There you sit on your poor little legs ! How did you come here ?" " Mother put me on her back and brought me here," repUed the child. " That was very good of mother-r-that it was ; but she'll be glad of it some day. See, here is some breakfast for you,' and for mother and little brother. It does me good, child, to see you look so cheer&l, and with such bright eyes. Don't you think it is a very sad thing to be sitting here in the open meadow and shivering, without either house or home ?" "Oh, yes: it' was a good deal warmer in the room; but the sun shines so bright now, and we have had such beauti- ful singing !" " You are a good child ! Look, there is a nice twist for you,j^ When we once get the infant school rightly afloat, then you shall sing with the children there. Don't you be anxious abottt Mina, mother ; she will be singing mistress in the .school some day. A child with such a disposition is one of God's blessings." Li this way refreshment for the body and consolation for the heart were distributed among the most indigent of the homeless throng in the King's-field, by those three kind women, who, during the forenoon, found many fellow-laborers in their task, both gentlemen and ladies. Another group, also of three persons, had been busied among the afflicted on the King's-field ever since sunrise, affording on all hands help and comfort. These wei'e, the town's physician, Dr. Hedermann, attended by Hertha Falk and Ingeborg Uggla. He examined the bums and injuries of the poor sufferers, which were then treated with soothiilg'^ medicaments and bound up, according to his instructionsi by the two young ladies. These three moved along gravely, and NIGHT IN THE KING'S-FIELD. 133 speaking but few words; but the expressions of manly earnestness and compassion in 'the coimtenance of the noble physician and that of the ■warmest sympathetic feeling in the two ministering ladies, together with the quietness and tender- ness of their movements, made them beautiful to behold. The countenances which appeared plain or old in the ball-room, here, in the light of morning, looked young and beautiful, as if in a renewed youth. More than one remarked this, and Mimmi Svanberg rejoiced silently, over it, because she it was who sent her friend, the good Doctor, the two assistants, whose ability and disposition she knew. These groups formed a refreshing contrast to the scene which the King's-field presented at daytereak. It was that of a camp, remiading the beholder of the horror and desolation of war. During the day might be seen many pale figures wander- ing among the smoking ruins and the desolated places of the town, their countenances impressed with woe, seeking for what had been, or for what stOl remained of, their former houses. .. Near to the spot where lay the ruins of their former eom- fortable home, stood Mrs. Christina Dufva, with her husband and their children. " We have had," .said she, " happiness and prosperity for so many years ; may it then not be needful for us to be tried by some affliction ? "We ■ are," however, all preserved to one another. We are in good health — we can work. Let us not lament, but rather thank God !" " My girls ! my doves !" said the father, " thank God that I have you all !" The seven young girls gathered round their parents, like a flock of doves, caressingly, " They would work for them, they would help them, and one another." Mrs. Tupplander also in the early morning stole to her house, which she found untouched by the flames. The first sight which met her eyes struck her with astonishment, and for the first moment with horror, for it was her noble yoimg lady, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, who stood there, Uving 134 BEKTHA. as life itself, in, the kitchen^eating bread and butter. Wo will draw a veil over the eflfects of the re-union and the explanations which took placei During the day Mrs. Uggla also -went abroad, bewailing herself for that which had happened, and for all that which would yet happen ; feeding her dismal imagination with the most gloomy pictures of the future and of the irremediable- ness of all wretchedness, and — " those seven Miss Dufras — ^for them there was no longer any hope!" The greater number of the more affluent of the houseless throng found themselves during the course of the forenoon under the shelter of a roof, either through the kindness of fiiends and acquaintances, or else by means of payment. < The greater number of the poorer sort had to remain in the open air for more than one foui^and-twenty hours, and the old woman of fourscore, three times four-and-twenty hours. In vain did the good occupants of the parsonage, Mimmi Svan- berg, and several others, open their hospitable doors. The number of the sufferers was too great ; and besides, many of theXownspeople Vho were so fortunate as to possess their suh^ stance and their spacious homes untouched, reasoned like the selfish man of property, when his help was asked, " It is no concern of mine !" and remained unmoved spectators of their brethren's want and labor. !Qireotor Falk and his family removed to- a small suburban house which they rented, and Hertha's time and thoughts were for the moment wholly occupied in settling them down here' as Comfortably as was jiossible, under existing" circum- stances. For the first time her powers, both of body and mind, were fully occupied, and this was very beneficial to her. The town-authorities were fuUy occupied also, partly yntk providing for the most necessitous of the sufferers, partly with convicting and sentencing those villains who availed themselves of the public misfortune and consequent disorder to rob and steal, and the judge of the district swore a solemn oath, that none who were detected in such practices should escape his vengeance and that of the law. CONSEQUENCES. Hush ! She k about to speak ; she ha» something ;to say, the djfing young woman who lies yonder on the bed. She appears to be contending with the shadows of death, in order -yet to cast some glances, to speak some words, in the world which she k about to leave. Those eyes, gupernaturally bright, seem at times to gaze into yet nnknowxi. infinitude, as she exclaims again and^gain, " How wonderful ! how wonder- fid !" But stUl the sjiadows hold her back. . "Light! light! more Ught! It k indeed my wedding- day ! I shall indeed be majjried to AtyiA I Dress me in my wedding-clothes ! Dress me as a bride ! Arvid's bride ! Place the myrtle-crown on, my head ! No — ^no— jn my hand ! Arvid is really away, and I am the bride of death ! ^y fether has willed it so! He banished Arvid: he was: very severe ; and therefore I am lying here ! I should like to have lived as a happy wife. Arvid loved. me so much, and I loved him ! We could have worked : we should have had enough with my maternal inheritaace. But my father — ^but don't let him know ; it would grieve him. I would not ^iUingly grieve any one. But we wiU not spe^k of the past. What have I said ? Ah ! I am so selfish I I cannot forget ! But the moment k come when I may speak,~because I am about to die. Father ! father !" And with a violent effort the dying young woman raised her head, and the supematurally bright eyes gazed seaarohingly among the figures of "those who were in the chamber with her. He whom she called for approach- ed her -bed — felteringly. The eyes fonneriy so severe and xmpitying are now dimmed with tears. Oh, gentle angel of death ! tl^ou makest the weak to be 136 HEKTHA. strong, and the severe thou makest weak. Ahna took her father's hand and riveted upon him a penetrating glance. " My father ! " " Here I ain. "What vnlt thou with me, my child ? " " Father ! give thy children their right, — flight, freedom ; thou gavest them life ; give, them that which alone makes life valuable. They wUl' then love — ^wiU love thee, as only the free can love. Thanks ! I am going hence; God has liberated me. Hertha remailis behind! Father, give her freedom; dost thou understand me, my father ? " " Tes ; and I promise to do that which thou desirest." " Thank thee ! now I can die calmly. Be just to Hertha, father ; greet Arvid, tell him — ah, no, forgive me. I know not rightly what I am saying " " Try to sleep, my chUd ; perhaps thou wilt be better ! " " No, no ! I must now look upon those whom I love ! " And Alma's glance turned from her father to her sisters, as she whispered, " My sisters, kiss me ! " They kissed her, weeping. Alma's eyes now sought Hertha's, as she whispered, " Her- tha, my beloved ! my only one ! " • Hertha was there ; laid herself softly by her sister's side, wound her arms around her, and pressed her lips to hers. Thus rested the two young sisters, who had so long trod in company the narrow thorny path, now clasped together in a heartfelt embrace, as though they never more would separate. But it is the last time that they will' ever rest thus ; it is the last time that their lips have whispered to each other words heard only by themselves and God. THE SONG OF THE BELLS. The bells -are chiming for the dead. And never do the Swedish beUs give forth more beautiiul,i more cheerful, and more animating sounds than on such occasions. There is in that iimeral-chime a secret anthem of joy ; so cheerfully, so freely, and exultantly peal forth those melodious tongues through the fresh vernal atmosphere of an April evening. So thought nJany a one v/iio listened to them that day ringing over the grave, where- had. just been laid a young woman, dead in the prime of her life. Beside, the grave, stood one to whom their song was more intelligible than to any beside. She stood alone in the evening, by the grave, which enclosed the dearest friend she had on earth, and it was to her that the bells sang : Oh, for the yoTithful f Hence taken early ; Weep not, nor mourn for her, It is well -with her I From daya dull and cheerless, * A pleasuTeless future, Fjom life without life's light Hence is she taken. Kerer more, never more, can she be captive I Death, the great reaper, Thou art more merciful Than human hearts are, Or human statutes ; They ordain thraldom, Thou giyest freedom, Keleasest the bound one, The patient, the loving. She can no longer, no longer be captive. 138 HKRTHA. Oh, glorious freedom I Love and truth changeless. Fountains eternal. In which she confided. Towards which she pilgrimed. You are her own now I She is free, she is free, with the freed ones I Therefore be joyous. Be joyons and sing ye, Sing ye, her sisters, Bejoice for the life which Was death to her, living. By death is transfigured To life eyerlasting 1 Kerer more, never more can she be captive I She is free, she is free with the freed ones, Well is it with her 1 •» Thus sung those melodious voices through the serene spring atmosphere, to one heart whose unspeakable anguish ' wa wonderfiilly appeased by that spirit-like song^ whUst torrent of tears fell upon the newly-raised turf of the grave. Higl above the grave carolled the larks' in the deep-blue, and seeme< to repeat, as in a tone of exultation, She is free, she is free, with tbe freed ones I FATHER AND DAUGHTER, A FLOWBB UPON TELE GEATB, DntBCTOB Falk sat in his little room at Kullen, as the little suburban residence to which the family had removed after the fire wa^ called, and saw the sun set behind the budding fruit- trees in the garden. He still sat with his feet swathed in woollen socks and suffering .from gout. The expression of his coimtenance was less severe than formerly, but, if possible, more gloomy. Both his head and his hands had visibly a tre- mulous, palsied movement. His pale countenance and his firmly-closed lips showed that he had taken some resolute determination, upon which he was about to act, although it cost him a great effort to do so. He seemed to be expecting some one or something. He expected — ^his daughter Hertha, to whom he had sent a message that he wished to speak to her. Three weeks had passed since the night of the fire, and one since the corpse of Alma had been borne from the house. The horrors of that night, and cold taken at the same time, had hastened the progress of her disease, and rapidly com- pleted the work which it had begun. How many a time had Hertha^ who well knew the original cause of her sister's illness, thought in the bitterness of her heart how she would by her death-bed one day reproach her fiither aloud, because he was her executioner; had thought over before-hand the terrible words with which she would punish the hard, selfish man. The hour came, but she then saw her father bowed and broken, trembling near his victim, and she could no longer find words wherewith to reproach or punish him. She had only tears for them both. 140 HBETHA. Since that event, however, father arid daughter seemed to avoid each other. Aunt KTella, or old Anna, carried question and answer from one to the other, when this was needed. Rudolph's name was never mentioned hy the Director, neither did he seem to hke to hear him mentioned by any one else, and the unfortunate youth was regarded by the family almost as one dead. Every one believed him guilty of originating the fire. ^ Hertha now, more than ever, called upon to act both for herself and others, and more than ever, therefore, in want of that Uberty which had been promised her, to direct her own actions and manage her own lawful property, both wished and feared, at the same time, to have some conversation with her father. Thus things stood on that evening, when a message came ■jBhich summoned her to him. If any one has done thee a great injury and by that means called forth the demons of hatred and bitterness-into thy heart — and worse injury than that can no one do to a soul — and God give thee grace to do thy injur er a great service, there arises something great within thy whole being, which makes it much easier for thee to forgive, even if thou art not besought to do so. Thou hast acted like the Highest on the earth, and His peace — which surpasses all peace and all strife — covers with its wings the bitter waters of thy mind. When Hertha came before her father, her glance was less cold, and her demeanor less rigid than usual. She had car- ried him like a child in her arms and on her breast, through fire and flames. The memory of that had wonderfully molli- fied her. heart. Yet that heart throbbed violently as she entered her father's room and advanced softly to the chair ir which he sat. He looked up hastDy, and motioned with his hand to a chair which stood near his, as he said : " Sit down ; I wish to speak to you." Hertha saw that the hand trembled ; it aflfected her. After a moment's silence the old man- began, with 'a voicf which he endeavored to make firm. " Tou have done me a great service ; you have saved mj I-ATHBB AJtD DAtJGHXEB. 141 life. I 'wish to show you: my gratitude. Tell me what you wish me to do for you ? " " Give me my liberty, father," said Hertha, with a mUd but firm voice, — " and tfie property that I inherit from my mother. I am twenty-seven years old, and I wish to be declared as having attained my majority." "It shall be done," replied her father, "if I« can only get time to take the necessary steps. I am prepared to render an account of the property inherited from your mother ; I have been a just steward, according to the best of my ability ; the last misfortune does not touch it — ^that — ^that you can well imderstand." Hertha bowed her head in gilent acquiescence ; her father continued : " The interest of your mother's property, together with your proportion of your late sister's share, amounts to a sum sufficient to enable you to live independently wherever you would like. You have a right to do so. You are of the class of strong women who are able to be their own support, and even to support others. I have hitherto not believed in the exist- ence of such ; I have, perhaps, been unjust in this respect, at all events as regards you, as I saw at the time of the fire, and even since then. Be therefore free, my daughter ; see and do that which pleases you, and, in the meantime, take this sum of money," — and with a trembling hand he. laid in that of his daughter, a roll of bills tp the value of about a thousand rix- doUars banco — " they are some of my savings, you can do with them what you like ; use them for a journey or whatever else you have a wisb for." Money,' as reward. for, an act of love, which saved him from a horrible death ! 'and yet Hertha received it with gratitude, because money is a means of much good, and of happiness to many ; besides she . ■v^eU understood her father's really good intentions. Tears filled her eyes as she thanked him. He assumed a harsher tone : " I know that you do not love me, and perhaps it is not altogether your own fault, because you have not understood 142 HEBTHA. my affection for you ; nevertheless, I know that I have ymh& for and desired, the future advantage of my children." . Hen he suddenly broke off and fixed his eyes upon the ^ound. I was as if a pale shadow rising therefrom' had whispered "Why do I lie here? I might have lived happily as i wife." ' Hertha was silent ; the old man wiped away the ■ sweat drops frpm his brow. His whole frame trembled. After'! moment he resumed — -«•» -■- '.I'l " If I have made a mistake, then I am, perhaps, severel; enough punished. In the meantimCj may you be free >sm happy, far from a father and a home which you do not love The interest of your mother's property can be paid to you a any place wherever you may be. And I desire nothing mon from you than that you should tell me where you would lik( to be." "Here!" said Hertha, as she rose up and laid her hand oi the arm of her father's chair, "here, with you; my father, i you will allow it. Oh 1 you have little understood me and tht Uberty which I have coveted. And you shall understand m( better, if you will promise me, what I now ask of you, am which I know that I deserve." " And what is that ?" asked the Director, as he looked u] to his daughter with an excited glance. ,i "Your confidence, father!" said Hertha, mildly anc gravely. " Believe that I desire what is right and good, anc let me remain with you to prove this to you. Have con fidence in me, and— -rbe kind to me and my^ sisters, so that w( may love you, and endeavor to make you happy, I am n< longer a child, my fiither ! I will be a mother to my youngei sisters, and manage your house according f o my best ability I know that this is my duty ; it wiU also be my pleasure, ii father, you will only give m^ my fr^fqidom and your confidence and be kind to me for — Alma?s sake /" Now it was spoken out: that reproachftil, bitter word which had so long brooded in Hertha's breast, but a lovin| angel had anointed the arrow's point with a healing balsam FATHKB ASTD SA7GHTSB. 143 It pierced the heart deeply, penetratingly, but at the same time softeningly, as with a chastising look of love. The old man said nothing : he bowed his head, and large heavy tears rolled down the deeply-furrowed cheeks. Then another head bent down softly to his, and a young fi'esh check, wet with tears, was laid close to hi& A beautiful sorrowing memory united father and daughter in one common bitter pain. Yes — blessed are they who can thjis weep together ! Gentle feelings produce profoundly beneficial effects upon stem natures. It is the spring-rain which melts the ice- covering of the earth, and causes it to open to the beams of heaven. Old Mr. Falk felt it to be so, and he raised his head, as he said in the gentlest voice which his daughter had ever heard from her father : " Let it be as you have said. "We wiU endeavor to begin anew with each other. I am only afraid that — I may be quite too heavy a burden to you, for I feel that some great change is about to take place in my state of health." He was not aware that it was precisely a presentiment of this change; the sight of that palsied hand and that tremulous head, which had moved the daughter's soul to the resolve, that her youthful strength and health should be his support. 144 HEETHA. THE SON OF THE TWILIGHT. It was almost dusk when Herfha left her father and wen down to her own room. As she approached the door, how ever, she involuntarily started back, perceiving a dark, almos shapeless form,. lying upon the threshold, and glaring upoi her with a pair of terrible eyes from beneath* a thick mass oi unkempt and disordered black hair. Hertha shuddere( involuntarily as she said, " Rudolph !" He continued to stare into her face, which was lighted u] by the crimson of the sunset, as well as by' the conversatioi which she had just had^ with her father. '^Rudolph !", repeated she, in a yoioe half of anger and halj of terror. " Rudolph ! is it you ?" "Yesi'.' replied he; "and you? are you the angel o: judgment ?" " I am Hertha, your cousin. Stand up : don't lie grovellinj in that way. Stand up : be a man ! I have been expecting t hear something from you for a long time." "Don't talk sternly to me. It wiE do no good. I am to^ much used to that. And now I don't care for the whol w«rld. Trample on me, if you like. Here will I die." " Get up, Rudolph, and come with me iuto my room, willjtalk with you there." The calm determination in Hertha's voice, and the wordi " in my room I will talk with you," produced a great effec upon the unfortunate young man. ^He rose up. She opene< \the door of the room, and he followed her in. She surveye ■'him attentively, and when she became aware .of his wholl desolate, and, as it were, shipwrecked appearance, she sal with heartfelt compassion : THE SOU OP THE TWILlGflJ?.- 145 " Poor Rudolph ! Where have you been ?" " I don't exactly know. In the gre^t 'W:oods about here." " You have need of something to eat and drink.' Wait a moment." Hertha went out and soon retiinlfe'd: with bread, some cold meat, and a bowl of milk. " The fire is out in the iitchen," she Said, " and I cannot now get up anything warm ; but take of this — eat and drink." " Oh, Hertha ! Then you can still take some interest in me." " Yes — yes : I shall always be your friend, Rudolph. But now, eat and drink. After that we will talk." Rudolph ate and drank hke one who had neither eaten nor drunk for several days. After awhile "he said, " Thank you, I have had enough." " Let us now have Some talk, Rudolph," said Hertha, with calm resolution. "TeU me what you have thought— ^what you think of doing for the future. What do you wish for— what would you hke ?" " To see you !" " And after that ?» ' ' « Die— What have I to live for ?^' " You must not die yet, Rudolph,"' said Hertha, solenfffly.- "You must Eve in order to reconcile to you those fiSeBSte whom you have alienated ; to make' a;m'endB- for itfjuries yotC have done, and to become a better man." " How can I live ? Wbere must I go to ?" " The world is large. You must go out into^ the- world, into a foreign land; a long way from this place. People already suspect you here. People are making inquiries after you. If once you are seized, you will either h& executed or imprisoned as a malefactor. Oh, Rudolph, you have done mischief enough already— do not make us still more unfor- tunate!"' ' ' "Tell me, tell me then, what shall I do ?" said Rudolph, bewildered and unable to take connselVith himself. " You — you I will obey. Oh, Hertha, you have a wonderful power 7 146 iLEKTHA. over me. Butj when I think of that horrible night ; the flames ; the houseless throng, and you looking at me like the angel of judgment and punishment " " I shall not henceforth look at you in that way, Rudolph. I am your friend, your sister. Now listen to me, Kudolph. You must immediately go .hence. Here is some money ; three hundred rix-doUars ; they are my own, and now they are yours. I know that you have a thorough knowledge of money. With this you must immediately go to Gotheborg, and from thence to Copenhagen. You must there go to our relation Banker. Falk. I have written to him, and here you have a letter to him. He will receive you ; of that I am certain, and. take charge of you for a time. As soon as you reach Copenhagen write to me and tell me everything that concerns you. And I will then write to you and send you more money if you require it. " " I shall not require it !" said Rudolph, " because I am grown up, and I can write and keep books for wages. I will do everything that you bid me, Hertha, if you wiU only pro- mise to think of me and write to me often. I know that I did what is ver^ wrong that night ; — a wonderful light entered my mind then — ^but, Hertha, do not abandon me ! — You are the only, only person in the whole world who has any regard for me ; the only one who asks after me ; who wishes me weU, tbe only one " " No, not the only one, Rudolph," interrupted Hertha, in whose soul at this moment the fountains of divine salvation opened their depths, — :" Jesus came to this world to save sinners ; go to Him, Rudolph, and He wiU be with you ; He will be your friend." " How can I go to Him ? — You have never before talked to me about Him ; do you believe in Him, Hertha ?' " I did not formerly understaaid Kmx, as I do now, Rudolph. My eyes have been closed. Alma knew Him better than I did. Look, here is a little book about Him ; in which she often read, and in whicii she has marked many passages. Take it, read it, and do that which the Saviour commands, THE SON OF THE TWILIGHT. HI and He mil lead you to God. The sin which you have hitherto comnaitted, God will forgive, because you knew not what you did ; your reason was clouded, poor Rudolph, and you had no guiding friend. But now you know that what you did was sin ; and God has opened to you a way hy which you can make atonement. I know that your heart is hot Ticked. If you follow Jesus itwill become good, and you will never do otherwise than what is right. Wherever you happen to be, Rudolph, reihember this ; help the oppressed and the suffering, whether they be human beings or animals. But never seek- vengeance for yourself, Rtidolph; leave vengeance to God who sees all things. Go, and be merciful to your feUow-orea- tures, as Jesus has set you the example. Oh, Rudolph ! there is a great deal which is dark and sorrowful and bitter upon earth, but He is light and He is goodness, and with him as your guide you wiU attain to hght and the highest life. You have much to live for, much which can make life noble and good and divine. Ton have hitherto lived as a poor child of darkness, Rudolph ; now you must live to become a child oflightandofGbd!" Hertha's tears gushed forth as she thus talked with a power and an enthusiasm which even affected herself. Rudolph listened in silence with eyes riveted upon her, whilst he many times breathed deeply, as if he felt a heavy burden lifted from his breast and inspired a new breath of Ufe. When she ceased speaking, he lifted up his head and said : " God has spoken to me through you, and I have rightly comprehended and understood every word you have said; and I wiU do as you have told me. Yes, I will be a child of' God ; I win follow Jesus ; and you follow him also, Hertha, and thus we shall both go the same way, and in the end we shall be united ?" "Yes, Rudolph, yes, in heaven, as angels of God, if we are worthy of becoming such. But now, dear Rudolph, you must go ; before morning you must be on your way to the coast. The steamboat to Gotheborg sails early to-morrow from K * * *. You must make haste to be in time for it. Your 148 HEETHA. whole fiiture wellbeing may depend upon it. Remember what we have talked about !" " Yes, yes ; I will go. Farewell !" He oflfered her his hand ; she took it and went out witb him into the court. It was a cold, bright night, at the close of April ; hoar-frost covered the meadow. The stars shone brightly above their heads in the blue expanse of heaven. When they had reached the little lane which led froni the house to the high road, Rudolph said : " Hertha, let me have a parting kiss." She could not refuse him at that moment ; she raised her face to his ; but he clasped her in burning love and pain, and covered her feoe with hot kisses. With an involuntary feeliag of horror and disgust Hertha tore herself from his arms, as she exclaimed, " Away, away 1" Rudolph turned and went on his way sobbing aloud. But just as- he reached the end of the lane, he felt a h^d touch his arm, and Hertha again stood before him with the Ught of hope and compassion again beaming in her countenance ; she pointed to heaven and said : " There,. iSudolph, there 1" With these words, she hastened back; gathered up the hoar-frost from the grass, and washed her face with it, which seemed to her polluted by Rudolph's kisses. So doing, she listened to the sound of his footsteps, which became more and more distant on the desolate high road in the silent night. When she could no longer perceive them, she breathed more freely. And as she stood there, alone beneath the briUiant,. starry heavens, in the silence of night, a joyful peace stole over her mind ; an indescribably wonderful and pleasant feeling of approaching morning and spring came consolingly with thei breeze of night, which refreshingly caressed her forehead, and touched her eyebrows as with a spirit's kisses. The strengthen- ing and edifying words which die had spoken, the consolation which she had given to another, came now like good angels back to her own bosom, Avith the presentiment, that an ever- lasting love ruled the world, and that she might become its THE SON or THE TW'ILIGHT. 149 messenger. The feeling of a living, iovard communion with a higher, holy, life-giving power, arose in her soul as a morn- ing watch, and opened it to one of those unspeakable, almost wordless, but not the less powerful, prayers by which earth's poor children, yet enveloped in night, endeavor to reach the Lord of life and light, and which may be thus interpreted : " O Thou, of whom I have a presentiment. Thou whom I yet do not know, whom I yearn to know and to love — God ! enlighten me with , thy countenance, turn thy countenance towards me, and give me thy light and thy blessing !" The thought of Alma; the longing to experience something about her, something from her, mingled itself with inexpressi- ble melancholy in her sigh after divine hght, which she breathed forth into the silence of night. And who is there, who, having lost by death a very dear friend, does, not in every hour of deepest life and longings speak, with inexpressi- ble sighs in the depths of his soul, the beloved name ; pray for a sign, a token, ah ! merely an inward intimation that the departed is present, that he hears, that he loves us, that he enjoys the light, the blessedness of which we staftA in need, and that he obtains good for us, and for them who sit in darkness, from the Father, whose ear he is nearer to than we ! So it was with Hertha, as she stretched forth her arms into empty space; and called in a low voice, " Alma ! Alma !" But no sound, no sign, no token replied to her from the desolate infinitude. She let her hands fall ; dried her tears, and again entered her chamber in order to lay to rest in the arms of sleep all uneasy questionings, all the pangs of thought and of feeling. Tears soothe. It is a great relief to be able to weep. Hertha's tears calmed the agitated billows of her soul. She slept and had a dream, which afforded her great consolation. She dreamed that it was night, and that she went into her silent chamber to go to rest. AJma was dead, and she was alone with heavy thoughts. She then saw the glimpse of a white figure by the wrudow, which seemed as if wishful to withdraw itself behind the white window-curtain. A thought 160 HBBTHA. passed like lightning through Hertha's soul, " It is a sign from Alma ! " And she sprang up hastily, as if to retain the fleet- ing token; she reached behind the curtain, she wished to take hold of the white floating spirit-veil, but when she with- drew her hand, behold ! she held in it a bouquet of the most beauftful flowers, such as she had never before seen ; Uttle ' bells, like lilies of the valley. Alma's favorite flowers, of the loveliest pale pink color, which hung in little fragrant clusters on their graceful stems. Delighted and. happy, she pressed the beautiful bouquet to her lips, to her heart, and returned with them to her bed. On this there opened above her a large' window, and she saw the brightest deep-blue heaven above her, and there, in the highest profound, shone — was it a fixed star, or a beaming eye ? she knew not which, but only that from the brilliant heavens it beamed down upon her, and the flowers which she held in her hand, floods of' a light, as efiulgent, as gentle, and as pleasant as we might imagine would be the glance of the blessed. In many a dark hour which succeeded, Hertha's soul was comforted by the remembrance of that dream. NEW SCHEMES AND UNDERTAKINGS. SOMETHING NEW UKDBB THE BXTS. Mbs. Tupplasdbe is in all her splendor, the Honorable Miss Krusbjom is all activity, and every maid-servant ia the house as busy as a bee. There is going to be a great breakfast of chocolate and bouillon, with the necessary cakes and pastry for a great number of guests, how many is not exactly known ; this only is sure, that there will be a great many. That is to say, the Ladies'-Society which had been proposed, but not organized, before the fancy-ball and the great fire, and which, since the latter occurrence, had hastily come into operation, both from external and internal necessity. The same necessity had, with equal haste, led to the forma- tion of a society of gentlemen under the name of the Poor's- Relief Committee, to assist and provide for the poor rendered destitute by the fire ; and both these societies were this day to meet at Mrs. Tupplander's to arrange their plans of pro- cedure, and consult together as to some general means of relieving the most extreme cases of distress caused by the late calamity. Pastor Dahl was to take the chair on this Occasion, and Mimmi Svanberg to act as Secretary. Proto- col-Secretary N. B. was also to be there, on pretence of collecting material for the work which he intends to write on Ladies'-Societies. Both ladies and gentlemen arrived — a great number of them. " People took ofi^ their things ; they shook hands ; they asked one another how they did. They collected in little groups, the ladies to themselves, the gentlemen to themselves, as is so generally the custom here in the north. Each talked. 152 KEETHA. Tvith his neighbor in a low voice. Chocolate and biscuits were handed round ; they sipped and they dipped ; they set down their cups ; they seated themselves on chairs and sofas, and then there was a silence, because our little pastor stood up upon a little elevation at the end of the large drawing-room, and was about to make a speech, and, as usual, people were very glad to hear what he had to say. But now it bappened to him, as it had not unfrequently happened before, that his heart became warm, that his thoughts took an unexpected turn ; in short, that he was inspired to say something quite different to that which he had prepared at his writing-table. Everybody could see that he was effected ; that his mind was fuU of matter, that hig eyes beamed as though they would light up the whole company. All at once he exclaimed : "Ladies and gentlemen! It will not be of any use our coming together like strangers to each other — ^the men here, the women there ! What ! Are we not brothers and sisters, childffen of the same Father, and united here for the same purpose in hig service ? No : we must not break ourselves up into a Ladies'-Society and a Gentleman's-Society, we must have p^e Brethren-society, or a Brethren-Covenant of men and women both, divided into &milies of brothers and sisters, who will help one another in love to labor for the good of the 'general household. " When God created the human race. He created them, man and woman, and gave them to each other as helpers in life, just as people set one half to another, to make a perfect whole. And, look ! He has done it for one and for all human beings, for the small and for the large world alike. Man and woman must extend to each other their hands as brethren and as married couples, not merely in the private home, but alsa in the great home, which we call social life. Thus was it in the early Christian community, when men and women acted together in concert, distributing bread and prayers. Thus ought it to be again, and in more affluent measure, when that parent community, which the Holy Ghost touched with Ma NEW SCHEMES AND UNDEETAKINGS. 153 divine influence, has penetrated all peoples and all realms, and the Christian family renews its spiritual relationship in every- where of human Ufa, and aU by that means participate in work — ^that is bread — and prayers. Then wiU the garden of Eden again open its gates to th*. children of Adam and Eve ! Let us to-day^ on our spot of earth, and in our little portion of the large field of labor, begin the work : let us unite ourselves in a more inner meaxiing of the word than hitherto : let us extend to each other our hands for a true fraternal bond; thus shall we accomplish the Creator's design, who intended not that man alone, or that woman alone, but that man and woman united, the perfected human-being, should have dominion over the earth ! " " That is really and truly something new under the sun !" said Mimmi Svanberg, smiling, to the pastor, as she hastily noted down the principal points of his speech. " May it only be carried out ! " Protocol-Secretary N. B. raised his voice to protest against the proposition, which, he said, was " unnecessary, and would lead to nothing but confusion." He ended by demanding a vote on the subject. It struck him with a sort of panic- terror that he himsell^ as now a member of the Poor's-Rehef Committee, should, in case the pastor's proposition was carried, become in fact a bond Jide member of the Ladies'- Society ; and how then would it go with him and the book he was about to write ? He now therefore desired, by a strong negative, to make a protest against the resolution, and hoped to find a majority on his side. But he was deceived. During the late terrible occurrences in the town, and the consequent suffering, men and women had labored together as brothers and sisters in the common work of rescue and relief, so that the present assembly, which oonssted for the most part of these very people, foqud them- selves extremely well disposed to adopt the resolution ; and when one of the most generally esteemed men of the town, the Qoble. old lawyer Carlson, rose to thank the speaker, and to declare that he agreed in all the views of the reverend speakejr, 154 HEBTHA. and seconded the resolution, tlie compamy rose with almost general acclamation. Three or four E"oes were overpowereti by the general Yes ! a'nd other indubitable expressions of cordial approval. Mr. Protocol-Seoretaty N. B. left the room. The company then proceeded immediately, under the direc- tion of their spiritual teacher, to organize the new society. A main division or family, was formed, which undertook the management of the monetary affairs, as well as various other families, each taking their respective portion of labor ; each being empowered to lay down its own laws' or. mode, of procedure, although in certain questions subservient to the direction of the Head Family. Each division or family had a father and a mother, who selected the other members of the family group. .By this means Dr. Hedermann became " father" of the family whose duty it was to attend to the health of the sufferers Irom the fire. And he summoned as. his children and assistants, half in joke and half in earnest, Ingeborg Uggla and Hertha Falk, who more than willingly placed themselves under his guidance. The childless, and yet so truly the motherly, Mrs. Dahl was elected unanimously as " mother" of the family which had charge of the destitute children. She received the appoint- ment with tears of joy, because she saw, in her mind's eye, the Infant Asylum, the wish of her heart, the infant-school, flour- ishing to her heart's desire under the shelter of her wing. Mrs. Tupplander looked a little confounded and affinnted when she heard herself proposed as the mother of the " Soup- Kitchen Family," and she seemed to thiok that such an under- taking was below her dignity ; but she suddenly brighten- ed up when the amiable Countess P. hastened forward to offer her assistance in the Commissariat Department, and to supply the great copper with herbs, barley, and vegetables from her estate in the ooimtry. Her husband, Count P., on this declar- ed, laughing, that he should not separate from his wife, but • should, as her brother in the soup-kitchem-family, send in two fathoms of fire wood, and have a bullock killed for the use of the family copper, NEW SCHEMES AifD UNDEETAKINGS. 155 All present came by degrees into the best possible humor. The spirit of human-love, which had inspired the proposition in the first place, communicated itself to and animated all hearts. Pride and self-love vanished before a magical, gentle influence: fear and mistrust of their -own or other people's powers disappeared also before a cheerftil and strength-giving courage ; many were affected, they knew not rightly where- fore ; they joked, but with tears in their eyes ; remarks were made which sounded satirical, but the point of the satire was sharpened by love : they called one another " father," " mo- ther," " sister," " brother ;" they shook hands like members of the same family. Mimmi Svanberg was a member of every family, and was at length declared to be a "free-citizen- ess," free to act according to her own pleasure, and to take part, either by word or deed, as it pleased her, in every circle alike. They agreed upon their futuremeetings, whether family-wise or for general assembly, and then separated. Thus amid joke and earnest, and amid general mutual good-will, was formed the little federal union which was destined to exercise so great an influence upon the fate of many of its members, and which Mimmi Svanberg called " Something new under the sun." Mrs. Tupplander did not exactly know what to say about the whole undertaking; whether it was a proper thing or whether it was not. She looked at the Honorable Miss Krasbjorn. But when the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn took off her wig to cool her enthusiasm, for she was really of an enthusiastic disposition, and declared that she had never seen anything like it, and that she would make soup for the socie- ty all the days of her Ufe, for that it was to make soup for God the Father himself, and for all His family ! — ^then was Mrs. Tupplander satisfied, and said, " That there should not be any want of soup for the poor towns-folk as long as she herself lived there." And thus these two also accepted their allotted parts well satisfied. 156 HEETHA. HERTHA'S PART. Heetha's part, as wel as that of Ingeborg Uggla, -was, as we haTe seen, decided by the share they had taken in the labors of the first morning after the great fire. Dr. Heder- mann called them, with a sort of fetherly pleasure, his daugh-" ters and amanuenses, and evidently entrusted to them the care of those who had received bums and other injuries during the fire. He supplied them with medicaments, and laid down the mode of treatment, which he left the yoimg female physicians'' to apply and carry out, having soon had sufficient proof of their skUl in doing so, which he had witnessed, both with pleasure and a certain admiration, though he took care not to let it be noticed. His highest praise being merely : " Very well done. Only go on as you have begun. Only persevere !" The good doctor in fact was so occupied by the amount of sickness which followed the fire, by the colds, the catarrhs', and pleurisies, which it occasioned, that he was greatly in need of all the extraneous assistance which could be rendered him by the different members of his new family. Most people, when they think of wounds and th© dressing of them, think of something -which is disagreeable and repul- sive. "We believe nevertheless that some there are who would understand us if we spoke of the pleasure and charm of such an, occupation. Women in the old times were renowned foi? their, skill as leeches; and from the most remote antiquity have they been distinguished as such, even in the north, and still there are some to this day amongst us who are thus reinarkable.* * I trust it will be permitted to me here to say a few words of high, esteem and acknowledgment regarding the female surgeon of Stockholia, HBETHA'S PAET. 157 The true female-surgeon looks upon the wound, as a mo- ther looks upon a sick child ; and when the wound, weU cleans- ed and washed, smiles at her with a certain fresh and calmed expression as if it would, thank her for the treatment, she on her part regards it with a feeling of satisfaction and pleasure. She lays upon it the fine white Unt, spread with healing oint- ment ; she presses softly upon it folds of fine linen ; she binds it with white bandages ; she tends it as though it were a little child, and feels involuntarily for it a tender and maternal sentiment. When she thus sees it well attired and comforted, and reads in the countenance of the patient how comforted he or she has become, and thenceforward, day by day, sees her nuree-ohild becoming better and better, which is the rule for these injuries, then does the healing-art appear to her lovely and agreeable, ahnost as one of the fine arts itself. She knows besides, that for this in reality simple art, there are wholly dissimilar gifts, and wholly dissimilar fingers, and one and aU with joy, know themselves to be artists in their parti- cular branch. Thus was it with Hertha, and Ingeborg, and the peculiar love and dehcacy with which they pursued their vocations made them doubly welcome and beopficial to their patients- Among these was Yngve Nordin. He had, as the reader may remember, been carried away after the fire was ex- Miss Arbeirg, and at the same time to express the wish that some of the wealthy who oooasipaally send their carriages to fetch the skilful surgeon- ess, ypU. some time or other take the trouble of seeing the reception which she every day gives to the poorest population of Stockholm, who come streaming in to her through open doors with their wounds and injuries. Then they would be filled with admiration, as we have been, of the unwearied patience, the cheerful temper, aa well as of the liberality with which she gives her time, her skill, andher ointments to the thousands who have nothing to give her but their thanks, which sometimes even are transformed by the ignorant and depraved into abuse. They would then wish, as we have done, to provide her a better place for her benevolent activity than she now has, and the means, without too great a loss, of con- tinuing it'; and they would perhaps, more fortunate than ourselves, be able to accomplish that which they wished 158 HEETHA. tinguished, to the parsonage, -with his left arm together with his knee greatly injured by the falling of a wall. Doctor Hedermann took Hertha with him on his visits to this patient, and taught her how to bind the injured limbs. In the begin- ning, when Tngve suffered also from fever, he himself visited him every day. But when he became convalescent he often sent Hertha alone to attend to the patient, and came himself only every otter day, and after that only twice a week, in order to ascertain that he was. properly attended to. When the young physicianess first came alone she asked the pastor's wife to go in with her to the invalid. The pastor's wife did so, but soon went out again, partly because Yngve often talked with Hertha on subjects which made her yawn, or read poetry to her in language which she did not understand, and partly because she could not remain long in the sickroom uninter- rupted, being called out perpetually by many people and for many things. "But — ^is it well that they are so long together — ^those two young folks ? '[ said the pastor one day, a little doubtftilly, to hisvrife; "the young girl has no mother; you ought to be that to her ! " " I would very willingly be so to her," replied the pastor's ■ wife, "if I could only escape sitting there the whole time, while she dresses his wounds, and they talk about things which don't concern me, and he reads to her English which I dpn't understand, and I am obliged to sit there like a sheep. No, that is more than I can do ; I must look after my house and my servants. There is no danger with those young people, you know ; I think, for my part, that our Lord has them in his good care ! " Our Lord had so ; and in a much higher sense than the pastor's wife thought of. Yngve's injuries were not dangerous for life or limbs ; he would certainly soon be well and wholly restored, yet still they were of that kiad — the injury to the knee in particular — which required much care, much time, and much patience. The young man had no remarkable share of the latter, he longed for activity. It was a severe trial to him IIEETHA'S PAET. 159 to be compelled to bear and to wait. Hertha's society and conversation became soon, therefore, as necessary to him as her care. But his also at the same time obtained an unex- pected influence over her. They had met and had stood by each other's side in the hour of danger, amid fire and flame. This, together with the similarity in thought which their first conversation ha,d betrayed, gave them, now that they were again thrown together by fete, a feeling of friendship, a brotherly _and sisterly acquaintance, which removed all em- barrassment and made their intercourse easy and agreeable. In order to occupy Yngve's thoughts and turn them to a more pleasing subject, Hertha requested him to read some- thing aloud to her whilst she was engaged ia attending to her surgical duties. He in this way made her acquainted with his favorite modern poets, and read to her in particular those of Ms friend the young American bard, James R. Lowell, in which aU the ideas of the new world and the new time, free- dom, labor, pure joy and brotherhood, a perfected Ufe for all in the great drama of the world, found an eloquent expression, and were presented in a bewitching form. These poems gave rise to many questions and much thought. Tngve had spent two years in the United States, and had deep sympathy with the young upward-struggling life which is in agitation there, as well as in the free states of Europe, but which there found a ftiller and freer expression. He loved to talk on this sub- ject. ' " And the women in the new world," inquired Hertha on one occasion, " have they poured forth no song, no lofty and large-hearted desires and aspirations as the men have done ? " Yngve told Hertha of the noble women with whom he had become acquainted; whose religious earnestness and liberal- minded feUow-citizenship had greatly influenced the develop- ment of his own mind. He made her acquainted with the ^ movements in the Free States, which are there known under the name of " Woman's Rights Conventions," and read to her many large-minded sentiments of progress, from the lips of women during these assemblies. He justified them_ against 160 HEETHA. the misconceptions with -which they were regarded by preju- diced eyes, and showed that, what women on these occasions demajided, heyond everything else, was their right to aa education and a freedom, which aflforded to every one a posa- bility and a means of hecoming that which God, by the gifts which he has bestowed upon her, calls her to be. Hertha's heart beat high, prondly and joyfully at the same time, when these coBMnunicationa. were made to her. She felt proud on behalf of her sex, proud of the words which women had uttered, and of the future in which they were the pioneers ; she felt humble when she thought of the great re- sponsibihty which was laid upon them, and happy when she saw men combating &r this objeotj as if it were their own; and when she heard a young man, as now, advocating these views with earnestness. Never did Hertha feel less inclined to insist upon the dignity of the rights of her sex than now. She only felt a strong desire to be worthy of a noble justice. Oflen did the two young friends imiagine together pictures of the future which would daiwn; of the beautiful and the pm-e life which would exist when man and woman should become,;? in a far higher degree and significance than now, each other's helper in life, giving to each other a hand in all earthly labotj- , each according to his nature and his gifts, as equals and as friends, in want and in joy. During such conversations it happened, as might be ex- pected, that the two speakers looked deeply into each other's eyes and each other's souls, and that they found each other beautiful, as they thus beamed upon each other truth and mutual satisfaction. It also happened sometimes^ that the minutes sped along on such rapid wings, that they never re- marked the flight of time till hours were passed, and the> striking of the clock reminded Hertha that — she was " ex- pected at home." Once, during such a prolonged conversation, it happened that they slid unawares into the familiar thee and thou. It came so naturally, so entirely of itsell^ that though both crimsoned, Yngve exclaimed with enthusiasm : HBETHA'S PART. 161 " Ah, let it be so ; it is just as it ought to be. Are we not on the familiar thee and thou terms in our feelings, our views, our aspirations ? Why then should we not be so in reality ? It was not mere accident which made the little word escape our lips. It was necessity ; it was truth. " Be thou my good, my stern friend," continued he with emotion. " I have never possessed such a one, but I need it. My love, my endeavors are pure : but I do not find ia myself the earnestness and the steadfastness which I wish for. I have been, to a certain degree, spoiled by prosperity, by too paii^ial friends, by a mother who has been, perhaps, too tender and affectionate. I am too desirous of praise and easy success, too njuch afraid of offending or running agaiust the prejudices of others, even for the sake of truth. I would become different, I would become a man such as you could highly esteem.^ Help me to be such, Hertha ; always teU me the truth ; never spare that which you regard as weak or as blameable in me ; be always honest towards me, an,d thus you will become not merely my physiciaHj but also my soul's friend and bene- factqr." This pleased Hertha right well. She besought Yngve to perform the same kindness to her in return, and thus was formed a bond of frieudship between them, the soul of which was to be an incessant endeavor after the highest purity and love of truth, together with the most unflinching candor. This gave a new impulse and renewed hfe to their inter- course and their conversation. Hertha had long fflnce been accustomed to a certain independent mode of speaking what she thought, without regard to its offending or exciting an antagonistic spirit in others. She had done it in bitter dis- satisfaction with every-day life and people, and in the deep consciousness of her own superior power. But in Yngve N"ordin she had met with a kindred soul, and if she m her expressions also treated him, as she did his sex, with a certain imsparing severity, it was because she .maintained that men in general were spoiled by the weakness of women towards them, and by the laxity of public opinions which this gave. rise to. 162 HEETHA. She maintained that they needed a strong ptitiffing bath of truth, and this she, from, time to time, gave to her friend in no sparing measure. Yngve Nordin took it in good part — ^partly because in many respects he participated in her views, partly because he ■was a young man of more than ordinary nobility and excellence of character, and besides, it was very interesting to him to hear a young woman, taking her stand on pure womanliness, express herself freely on 'a number of subjects, which are commonly banished from the 'conversation between gentlemen and ladies. Besides which he heard and saw that, during her severe' criticisms, she exhibited so great a love of truth and the highest excellence, and took so high a view of the destina- tion of the human being as witness to the truth and servant ,of the Most High, that he felt himself, as it were, to groTv in mental stature whilst listening to her. His contempt for the mean and the depraved increased, and his love for the elevated and the noble increased likewise. He often felt himself in a high degree animated by the ideal which beamed so beauti- fully in the soul of his stem, but noble friend, and sometimes, on the other hand, depressed, dissatisfied with, and mistrustful of himself But never so as regarded her. He felt a deep conviction that she was a noble, large-minded woman. It, then, was not her fault, if he and others appeared to her eye, yearning as it did after perfection, to be weak, imperfect, " half human beings." And if it appeared so to her, it was right in her to say so, and it was good for him to know it. Besides, Hertha was beautiful when she gave vent to her noble indignation against what appeared to her unworthy, either in men or ia society. Her demeanor was always calm, but lightning flashed from her eyes. And however severe she might be as a judge, she was always gentle and excellent as nurse of the suffering young man, and tended his injuries- with hands as skilful as they were singularly beautiful. Yngve had, in the beginning, regarded her as a sort 'of moral phenomenon, which was very interesting to him as a study. But the power she exercised over his soul increased HBETHA'S PAET. 163 daily. He allowed himself to be, as it were, magnetised by her, and he would have suffered himself to have been taken captiye by her, like a new Telemaohus by a new Calypso, if her influence had not been of that kind which aroused, instead of lulling to sleep his spiritual power. The subject of their first conversation on the occasion of their first meeting, was often resumed by the two friends, and canvassed in manifold variations, nor was Yngve always as gentle as he was then towards the weakness and frailties of her sex. Neither did Hertha attempt to defend these; still she passed a milder judgment upon them than on those of men. " Women," she used to say, " are not yet all that they might be. Their iuU day is not yet come. Wait tUl then before you pass sentence upon them." One day she spoke with much bitterness of the lenity with which public opinion regards the offences of men against the law of morahty, in comparison with the severity with which it treats those of woman, especially if she be young, unprotected and poor, — ^branding her aU the more if she be noble enough to bear the consequences of her false step. Yngve perfectly agreed with her in this respect, but the subject appeared to be painful to him ; he crimsoned, and turned his eye away from her. Hertha also crimsoned, and dropped the subject for the time, only to return to it on some future occasion with deeper earnestness. But this subject cast a shadow for the time over Yngve's inifege, which had begun to beam in her soul with unusual purity and beauty. She re- called to her mind the remark of the old lawyer. Judge Carl- son, respecting him and his fickleness, on the first evening she saw him, and she thought to herself: " After all, then, he is like the usual run of men. Even he is not blameless." This reflection grieved her, and she became more reserved and stern in her behavior towards him. Many would have fancied that Hertha's behavior and con- versation might have awoke dislike in Yngve, and made love impossible. Yes, certainly, that love which is pictured as * 1C4 HEETHA. diiving in the cloud in the effeminate chariots of Venus or Freja. But there is a love of a higher character, which human beings venerate and pay homage ta with justice^ — For he is a God ; He knoirs his own paths, And the paths which lead through the cloud. Besides, persons of strong and indepondeat character, like Hertha, might very easily offend fine folks, high-bred ladies and gentlemen (when they have not superior minds), and espe- cially gentlemen of the corps diplomatique and all such as are more versed in drawing-room life than in life's most holy sanc- tuary ; but they exercise a powerful influence on all such cha- racters as feel an impulse towards the morally pure and strong. When such as these meet with a soul free from human fear, loving to live in tihose regions where unveiled truths dwell in her sacred light, they are enchanted by it, even if it should appear under the form of a Eumenid. The Eumenides were women, and a secret love was mingled with their chastising, scourging power. Hertha was regarded by Tngve in this light, and he gave himself up with a sort of rapture to the sentiment of pure admi-i ration with which she inspired him. She awoke within him, however, sentiments of another kind. Often when, with cruda* ing invective, shfe gave vent to her indignation againat some- thing mean or unjust, Yngve fixed his eye upon her with a keen" and penetrating eKpression, as if he would ask, "How is it that thou stUl so young hast become so bitter ?" It dis- tressed him on her account, and awoke the desire in his heart to reconcile her with life. Neither this glance nor this desire was unobserved by Her- tha. How little need is there of words between souls which are in harmony with each other ! The magneti© spiritual cur- rents pass through them with fdness of life. And occasioin soon offered for Yngve to operate openly on Hertha's souL Hertha's views, both of the world and of life, were in reaMty very gloomy. She had only seen the darkest side, whethejr«f hektha's paet. 165 life or of history. Human beings seemed to her, for the most part, either to be executioners or victims, and in both cases slaves. The former excited her hatred, the latter her compas- sion. Injustice and suffering, force and falsehood and dark- ness, seemed to her to have the world in dominion from cen- tury to century. The one age of humanity was in truth no better nor wiser than the other. Mankind discovered, indeed, new means and machines for their advantage or pleasure, or else to destroy one another in larger masses ; but the indivi- dual man continues .stUl the same, equally circumscribed, equally*cruel, and equally weak, equally imperfect to-day as yesterday, and for thousands of years past. We have a pre- sentiment of the perfection' of God in our consciences ; we fancy that we sometimes perceive a glimpse of his image in some great and good human being who wanders alone on the earth, for the most part misunderstood, most frequently slan- dered, and finally crucified by his age for the sake of his supe- rior love. But the Great Invisible himself and his government ai-e hidden from us, and are incomprehensible to us ; they are dark mysteries, and human life on earth a dark, and to the greater number, a joyless riddle. We speak about a faith and a hope which we in reality do not possess. We wander in twilight, and know not whence we come, nor whither we shall go. To these gloomy views, which often returned, and which Bxhibited the dark depths of Hertha's soiJ, Tngve opposed the light which he derived from theology and history, his favorite subjects, to which he had exclusively devoted himself when he [lad studied with the intention of becoming a minister of the Grospel. This career in life he had only abandoned from the lecessity not only of providing for himself as soon as possible, but also for his tenderly-beloved mother. He selected there- fore a path which would all the more rapidly conduct him to ;his object. Yet at the same time he did not neglect his iavorite studies, but steadfastly pursued in them the develop- nent of the age and the human mind. A clear intellect and a leai-t open to the innermost of , life enabled him to separate the 166 HEETHA. gold fi-om the dross, and in any case to possess himself of the pure ore. He now endeavored to impart to his fi-iend that which he himself had found and possessed, as the most precious treasure. He endeavored to show her from the pages of history hoW God, in the beginning dimly perceived. by the darkened con- science of man, yet entering into and brightening it by de- grees, was partially comprehended at first in scattered rays, circumscribed forms, or by lightning flashes, which for the moment illumined, but often at the same time blinded^the still weak, uncertain human glance; he endeavored to show her how He, spite of this, continually became more intelligible to the eye of the world, uritU he fully unveiled his divine coun- tenance in the Son, and revealed in him that which he in etei^ nity is, works and wiMs. Yngve endeavored to place human- history before Hertha as a means of education with respect to self-knowledge and to God. He endeavored above all things to fix her eye upon that form in whom he has revealed to us his own being; for he maintained with the great historian,' Johannes von MuUer, that "from this poiat aU the cardinal questions, whether of life or of history, may be answered ; all' enigmas solved, and the whole world itself, sunk in sin and sorrow as it is, be elevated and enlightened." Yngve saw in Hertha, more than once, a full comprehension of the vision of light, which he called up before her. But it endured in her soul no longer than the lightning-flash through the night, over which the clouds again close with impenetra-i ble darkness. She turned her sorrowful and questioning' glance upon human Kfe of yesterday and to-day. Must it remain thus, for ever ? ■And then Yngve showed her also, from historical data, that an augmenting flood of life and liberty is actually advancing over the earth from one century to another, extending itself still more and more. Sometimes checked — ^nay, even driven back for shorter intervals — it appears in the long run ever victorious, ever embracing new peoples and i-ealms, or caUiag heetha's pabt. 167 forth a higher developement in those already secured. Even as the NOe, as soon as it becomes fructified by a drop from heaven, perpetually increases and fructifies the plains of Egypt, so human life, — especially since the history of Christi- anity has become part of it, — has become an ever-advancing progi-ess into light, liberty, and happiness. " You say," continued Yngve, " that the human being of to-day is no better and no happier than his predecessor of eighteen centuries ago ; that no human being is now holier than the Virgin Mary or the beloved disciple John. That may be, because the human being cannot attain to above a certain degree upon earth. But this degree may be high enough to make him worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. And I, for my part, should be quite satisfied with a heaven peopled with beings whose life is truth and love. And from centmy to century, especially since the new birth-day of humanity, the number of such as attain to this degree in- creases ; the circle of such enlarges, as we, the community of earth, obtain immunity as free citizens in heaven, and on earth obtain the privilege and the possibility of the highest human freedom and dignity. This is the explanation of God's govern- ment, and of human life on the earth. Temporal happiness or misfortune are exceptional moments. The important thing is, that the human being attains to God ; every other good comes with that, sooner or later. Earthly prosperity and happiness grow ais a consequence of spiritual freedom and self-govern- ment, and continually bear a proportion to them. Compai-e the whole popular life of the early Christian people with that of the present day; compare pagan China with the free com- munities of North America, and yo"u will see it plainly ; you will see that God makes known his being in humanity by means of a godly human life, and doctrine engrafted upon the tree of popular life. If our social Ufe still exhibits so much imperfection and deficiency, it is without doubt because the conscience is still in bondage to the latter ; because the Chiillian law of liberty is stiU only applicable to one-half of the members of society ; because the mothers have not yet 168 IIEBTHA. become the guardians of the sabred fire upon its altar. We have yet much to do, hut we shall do it. Because, God is with us. "Bat the innumerable human masses, which never can enter the sphere of freedom ! the millions who live like cater- j)illars, and who die without having seen the light of the spirit ? " inquired Hertha. " God Almighty lives !■*' said Yngve, with cheerful ootirage, " and we know that he is the supreme justice and love. That is sufficient. Such as he has revealed himself must he remain to be in aU eternity, and so must he work for all things, under all circumstances, in all worlds. We know that he wiD th&t all men should attain to the knowledge of the truth, and that ' all things are possible to him.' They must all attain to it, sooner or later, on this earth, or in other worlds. The sooner or later in the calling of the individual, or of a people, to enter into the vineyard, is a subordinate thing. AU must nevertheless come, aU may choose and decide freely for them- selves. That is the rule of God's ordination, evident already for us on earth." " How happy you are, Yngve," said Hertha sometimes, " to have been able to learn and think so much, and to see things so clearly! One's heart and o"ne's life may become very dark, merely through ignorance." The conversion of the sceptic is often described as the work of a moment ; as a miracle of divine grace, in which the human being's own endeavors and reason have nothing what- ever to do. . But we do not believe in this. The conversion of St. Paul may be reckoned as the exception to the general rule, which may be likened to the gradual but irregular bfeak- ing forth of the light from a cloudy sky. The doubt of the soul, and the gloomy facts of Ufe and human nature are the olouds. We believe that the sun is behind them ; we see it sometimes burst forth in a bright ray, but the clouds again collect and conceal it. We no longer have a glimpse of it, and the whole world is veiled in shadow. Yet, the llftnd blows, and the clouds disperse, or raise themselves aloft; the HEETHA'S PART. 169 light beams forth again and again for the inquiring and heaven- turned eye, until at length it gains the victory, and clouds no longer obscure its heavenly image. " Out of darker into light, through the shadows ! " is the usual course of the development of the higher life in the soul of man. The gioment whe^ the sun has fijlly arisen in the soul of the sceptic is nevertheless a -wonderful one, and to him a miracle. This we have lately seen in the confessions of one of the highest clergymen of Denmark, the richly-gifted Bishop Mynster. We have seen his bitter doubts, and his spiritual combat of many years, during which time he was the preacher of a Gospel in which he was not a believer, but the beauty of which often transported him; we have seen how the light which at once broke in upon his soul, and made him a believing and enraptured, happy Christian, came to him suddenly, in his solitude, whilst he was reading some passage in " Spinosa," " wholly xuioonnected with the thoughts which all at once arose in his soul, and made aU light and certainty within him." But all actual miracles are flowers which conceal their roots under the surface of the earth, and burst forth in deep con- nexion with the eternal laws of nature, although our duU human intellect cannot trace them out. Hestha sought also, sought among the shadows of earth for a God, not merely for her own soul, her own happiness, but for aU souls. For this reason, therefore, Tngve's mode of proving to her his existence, produced so powerful an efiect upon her mind ; and from the same cause, therefore, arose so many new questions, so many new enigmas to be solved. Hertha's earnest spirit, thirsting anew after the truth, would not be satisfied with the half, or the incomplete ; would not be put off with any reasoning, the cogency of which she did not acknowledge. Jler stern conscientiousness compelled Tngve still more deeply to reflect upon the doctrines which he preached, and her questionings and doubts gave him new problems to solve, and caused him to ■ pass in their examina- ^on, more than one sleepless night. That he himself was an honest inquirer, that he would not offer Hertha any solution 8 170 HEETHA. of the problem of existence, of the soundness of which he himself was not fully convinced, and that he candidly- acknow- ledged his ignorance, or his own doubts, where they occurred, were circumstances which raised him in Hertha's regard more than greater learning would have done. Hence it followefl that she had the fullest confidence in his honesty, and she herself was invited to seek with her fiiend for elucidations of those difficulties which the developement of their minds gave birth to. Hertha was one of those souls who must see in order to beheve ; she must see goodness ia the being and the ways of God before she could put her trust ia them. Until that was the case she could not love him, and he was not aMsuffid^ for her. Yngve iu the mean time saw, with heartfelt joy, the influ- ence which he had obtained, and could obtain, over the soiil of his friend. The noble young man's desire of doing good, and of enlightening, was added to the desire of the young phi- losopher to argue and prove ; and when he saw that it would be months, probably, before he was sufficiently recovered to return to his profession, he proposed to himself to go through a course of history which should make apparent to his friend the good providence of God towards man, and which could alone reconcile her to the government of the world and to its governor. • Every time Hertha came, Yngve read to her portions of that work which was becoming of infinite value to himself, and to which she, in her turn, made objections or remarks. Frequently, also, she gladdened him by her cheerful approval. Then were they both very happy. To all her questions regard- ing the fate of the various nations and peoples of the earth, which seemed opposed to the just and loving providence which Yngve was endeavoring to establish, he had, finally, only one reply, tnd that was : " God is love ! " And the light which then beamed in his glance gave Hertha a presentiment that this answer reallfr might overspread the whole field of dark questionings, and HEBTHA'S PAUT. 171 the lofty image of Him who first made these words an ever- lasting proverb on the earth, stood forth* all the more exclu- Hvely and dominabtly in her soul. The human mind, resembles the Swedish Island (Gottland, the eye of the Baltic), which, according io an old legend, alternately elevated itself above the surface of the sea, and alternately sank below it, until its people carried fire upon the island, after which it remained steadfastly above, So alternately rises and sinks the uneasy island of the soul seeking for light, until a fire is kindled in it, a fire which is called — love of God. In the mean time spring advanced. The birches reddened in^he pasture fields ; their slender leaves put forth ; the star- lings built their nests, and filled the air with their plaintive whistling and trilling; the hawthorn bloomed in the meadows; the lilacs were ftiU of buds; bees murmured, and aU the fruit- trees in the garden were fiill of blossom. The abundant waters of the little river danced down the wooded steeps of the mountain district, where it had its birthplace, and down to the ever greener meadows amid which lay the parsonage of Sol- berga. When Tngve was first able to support himself upon his injured knee, he wandered, leaning on Hertha's arm, beneath the blossoming trees of the garden, and through copses of pine and birch, down to the banks of the rivser. How extraordinarily weak, and yet how elate he often felt him- self! He was impatient at knowing himself an invalid ; he was enchanted by the touching beauty of nature — a minor- key pervades the life of the spring in ournorth, even as per- vades the northern folk's song,— ^he was conscious of a heart- felt gratitude to her upon whose faithful arm he was supported so firmly and tenderly ; he was made happy by the assistance she rendered him ; and Hertha need I tell my lady-readers that she was happy in rendering him this assistance ? The first time that he was able to go somewhat farther, she conducted him to the churchyard, which lay on higher ground, at some little distance from the parsonage, and to Alma's grave. She had plaited it ■with white roses and mignctaette, and had placed a seat opposite to , it. Here, for the first time, Hertha spoke of her l?eloYed sister, and for the first tune Yngve felt ■what a depth of tenderness ■was* concealed in her soul, and ■that the bitterness of her feelings had its root in the strength of her sympiatby for the suflTering of othiers. Yngve repaid her confidenoe by making her acquainted with his own family cir- cumstaneesT-his mother and her beautifiil life. He described her as one of those souls so filled with the love of the Saviour that it becEtme to her like a new nature and a perpetual inspi- ration, which caused her to speak and to act ■with a clearness and a straightforwardness which captivated or overcame, as by the power of some beautiful, music. He told' her of his happy childhood in this mother's home, -with several brothers ; how she taught him always to act according to his' best coftvictioQS, and thus to be regardless of consequences. She used often to quote the words of an old hymn : Do right; do well in dying; And le4T« the rest to God I This had 'early given rise in him to a cheerful and joyous disposition, and a certain freedom from anxiety as regarded the future. He described, also, this mother's person and man- ners,— described how handsome, how gentle and lovable she was; how unceasingly and quietly shfe labored for others; seeking to strengthen, to raise up, to comfort ; and how the inward peace seemed to beam aroimd her whole beiqg, like the glory of a saint. The two fWends often returned to this place, and to this subject. Yngve sometimes read to Hertha the letters which he received from his mother, now closely occupied at the sick bed of her brother, Yngve's uncle. And the peculiar life and beauty which Yngve had so lovingly described, breathed forth from the letters. Hertha listened to these commmiication| with the mingled feelings of pleasure and pain. Sometimes her heetha's Paet. 173 eyes filled witli sweet tears, as she contemplated this love, this sweet relationship between parent and child. Sometimes she felt a painftil sting in her heart at the contemplation of a Beauty, a peace from which she was so far apart ; and the great admiration and love which Tngve expressed for the feminine type, as represented in his mother, at times gave rise to a sentiment akin to jealousy in her heart. . , The proud mind also raised itself at times in opposition and self-defence. ^ " She has never experienced iajustice and severe treatment," said Hertha, on one of these occasions ; " she has always expe- rienced love, and then it is an etey thing to be gentle and amiable ! " - But she blushed at the tone and the spirit with which- these words were uttered, and all the more so when Yngve's serious eye was riveted upon her, as if enquiring what it could be which had now wounded her. She endeavored to avoid it by asking still more of his mother and his family circumstances. The mother still lived as a widow, jn the house of her elder brother, and Yngve was not satisfied with her position there, although she never complained ; he knew that she was not happy. He looked forward with longing to the time when he should be able to have a home of his own, and take his mother to live with hica. He talke'd with childish delight of how he would arrange everything for her ; how her room should ,be furnished, simply and elegantly at the same time, as he knew she liked things to be. Yngve was the eldest of his brothers, and the mother had given all that^he possessed for the educa- tion of her sons, that it might be as complete as possible. She was compelled, therefore, herself to live on very circumscribed means. Yet she felt herself, and all her letters testified to this, rich in her sons and "their future. Yngve also spoke of his brothers, whom he cordially loved. They were some years younger than himself, and were only just now able fully to provide for themselves, the one as tutor m a private family, the other as a navar officer.^ *' Good lads ! excellent lads ! " Yngve used to call them, 1^4 HEBTHA. "yet nevertheless they had their faults;" which evidently had often caused their brother uneasiness. He talked about them sometinies in a fatherly kind of tone, which made Hertha one day laughingly ask him, " how much older he was than his brothers ?" . This led to the discovery that Yngve and Hertha were nearly of the same age; Hertha only a few months the elder of the two. Yet it seemed to Hertha that she was very old in comparison with Yngve. He was in fact so young in soul. Life and hope in him were in full blossom. Often, indeed, would the youthful flow of his spirits carry him along into playful extravagance, fhen he would joke and laugh at everything, and draw caridatures of the ladies and gentlemen of their acquaintance, nay, even of himself and Hertha, which made her smile in spite of herself; and however it might be, •even she herself became, younger, as it were, during her inter- course with Yngve. Her heart grew brighter, so aOiso did the expression of her countenance. Many remarked that she began to be reaUy good-looking, and it was only Mrs. Uggla who suspected a gallopiug consumption from the heightened and clearer color of Hertha's cheek. THE NEW HOME. Hbbtha's new home, Kiillen, was about two miles from the parsonage. Between the two places lay the consumed portion of the town with its ruins and heaps of rubbish. But at Kullen as well as at Solberga,' the garden was full of blossom- ing trees. A garden in which lilacs and fruit-trees are in fuU bloom, and around which softly murmur thousands of injects, where every kind of shrub and plant puts forth fresh leaves day by day, has always seemed to us like a poem which must some way or another call forth the poetical in every ' soul. Yes, for every soul possesses, after all, a spark of the Prome- thean fire, however crushed down it may be by the rubbish of egotism or every-day-ilife. Truly poetical natures require but a very small portion of this glory of the spring to be powerfully excited. E. G. Geijer enjoyed the whole wealth of nature and of spring in a blossoming cherry-tree outside his window. Old Mr. Falk, during his town and business life, had almost forgotten how a garden looked. Removed from his usual surroundings, and in a great measure debarred from his usual avocations, which the shattered condition of his health no longer permitted him to attend to, and also in consequence of this enfeebled state of health, rendered more susceptible than formerly to gentler influences, he found himself, as it were, astonished at the beauty which all at once surrounded him, and spoke to him of many subjects with which he had in his early youth been acquainted, but which had since then passed wholly out of sight. The early summer was this year unusually beautiful. The Director walked in the garden, beneath Ijlossom-laden trees ; l'?6 HEETHA. t he watclied the work in the garden as it went forward, and presently began to take part in it ; he was especially interest- eS in attending to the trees. Martha and Maria were seized • with a perfect passion for gardening; the former planted peas and beans, and laid out asparagus-beds ; the latter, Aowt ering-borders. Before long they might be seen working in common with their Mhefj whose teniper in the mean time became more cheerful and more amiable. To this contribut- ed, ia no small degree; the oircuitistance of his having, accord- ing to his promise, given up with full confidence, the entire donlestic economy to Hertha's management. He allowed h^t a certain sum monthly for this purpose, but interfered no ftl'ther in any of its concerns. Such an arrangement of domeS-^ tic affairs cannot be sufficiently recomjtnended, whether the well-being of the man, the woman, or the fkmily itself be considered. The best of men become tiresome when they take upon themselves "Martha's. cares and anxieties;" and we have known some clever- statesmen who have become intolerable masters of the family because they busied them- selves with the management of household details. Arago felt with justice that his veneraticta for the celebrated La Place was considerably decreased when he heard his wife ask him in an under voioe, for " the key of the sugsir-box." It stands to reason that we require from women that degree of skill and iaianagemfent whieh will enable the men to leave these cares in their hands, fully assured that they will be well attended to. On this subject, however, enough has been already preached and dogmatised. But even here^ in every case must _be allowed some rudimental state before the attain- ment of the highest degree. No good housekeepel* ever became such at one bound. Only concede to a woman a good will, time, and opportunity, and be easy* In nine hundred cases out of a thousand, " she'll do it !" Hertha was so desirous of rewarding her father's oonfideneej BO solicitous to give him satis&ction, that she soon overcame her natural repugnance to, and even her want of experience in the business of household economy ; and never before had the THE NEW Some. 1V7 * Director been so satisfied with his meals, and so contented with the management of his family. Be*sides which, since he had left everything in his daughter's hands, he no longer enquired after every glass which was broken, or every sixpence that was expended, and this saved him many a petty vexation and annoyance by means of which he used formerly to embitter his own life and tha,t of others. By degrees also a little beauty began to be introduced into the house ; and although the Director at first regarded these innovations with suspicion, he became reconciled when he observed that they did' not cost him anything. Some of these were ornamental Works made by the hands of his daughters ; others also were purchased by a portion of the present -which her father had given her, and which Hertha thus appropriated to the, beautifying of his new home. There was, however, one especial room in the house with a window on the sunny side, and looking into the garden, which Hertha arrang- ed and adorned with peculiar affection! it opened out of her own chamber, and her sisters called it *''Hertha's cabinet :" but Hertha had, in her own mind, given it Another name. The house was built of wood. Spacious and Well' finished; and, all honor to stone houses, yet it has always seemed to lis that wooden houses are more comfortable, as well as certain- ly warmer and more healthy. Something of the calm and the peace of the forest surrounds us in these the offspring of the forest. They generally assimilate also more to nature and life. Pretty porches project into the gardens or beneath green trees. It was so at Kullen. The porch opened into the garden, overshadowed by tali trees, whilst trails of fragrant honey- suckle hung luxuriantly arouiid its ornamental trellis-woii. Here might be seen, during the long, light summer evening, the Director sitting smoking his pipe, and Aunt Nella near him, with her yarringles busily winding a raveled skein, whilst she entertained herself and her brothef-in-Iaw with stories, to which he listened with more and more attention. " -• 8* 178 HEKTHA. These t'wo had paased their youth together, andit is even said that a mutual aflfection existed between them, in particu- lar on h6r side, when her young and more wealtl^y hal&si^ter returned home from the school at Stockholm, .where .shp, had finished her education, and at once gained possessionof the hea^ which Aunt NeUa had .begun, to regard as her own property. But she tenderly loved this sister ; and with bitter pain, but without anger or complaint, silently drew back, so that nothing might interfere -with her sister's happiness. This was the unknown, but beautiful, romantic episode in Aunt Nella's life ; and to it belonged also the unceasingly faithftil devotion ,witji which she adhered to her sister, her brother-in-la^, , and their children. Of her brother-in-law she entertaiaed a dread, mingled with love, which made her, indeed, often suffer under his power, but never blame him. She had been contgijte|p[ with living in his house, like a silent night-l^mp, valued ajid called into requisition only in the hours of- night. an^ of dar!^- ness. She had ,seen her sister fade away amid the gloom of an inharmonious marriage, and had watched and wept over her, and' sometimes silently thanked God that she herself had not been married ; yet, nevertheless, she preserved a regard for her first and her only Jove, which made. her, to a certain degree, blind to her brother-in-law's fiiults, which, she called his " fixed ideas," and bcund her to hun and his children, as the serf is bound to the house of his lord. The constantly repelled flame of life had, in the mean time, inljer own solitary room, kindled the powers of imagination and called forth cer- tain "fixed ideas" in her own mind, which had neither foun- dation nor reality. In every other respect Aunt NeUa was a perfectly honest and prudent person. " She had an excellent memory, particularly as regarded the days and'^he acquain- tance of her youth, and, like most elderly people, she was very fond of living those old times over again. As many of these belonged also to the youthful days of the Director himself, Aunt Bella's conversation and remioiscenoes had an^ unusual interest for him during the long summer evenings. He regu- larly longed for tea-titne, seven o'clock in the evening, because ±tijii jxjiiw JiuJUJi:. now, instead of taking his tea, as formerly, alone in his room/ he desired to be taken out into the poMch, and sent to Aiint Nella-, requesting her to let him have " a cup of tea-water." Aunt Nella was not slow in obeying his wishes. Her heart throbbed in her breast, as she, with' her yarringles in her hand, hastened out to the porch and seated herself on the green bench, exactly opposite her brother-in-law, who conunonly said: " Well, Aunt, can you tell me about " such and such an occurrence, or person, who had figured in the days of their youth. And immediately the httle old lady was ready to dis- entangle the threads of innumerable youthful memories, which, although, it is true, they were in a state of intricate perplexity, yet always, like the knots tied upon the Quipas of the Peruvian Indians, served as points of memory .to indicate cer- -tain persons and periods. Now, the great lawsuit was the ' most important of these points, or, more correctly speaking, was a thread which mysteriously ran through them aU, and when it became visible, the Director used to grow angry, and say: " Now then, now then ! Are we at that again? Leave all . those absurdities, and let us stick to the reahty ! " But the great lawsuit was to Aunt NeUa the reality «f reaUties," and she coifld not help it: the mysterious lawsuit, therefore, came up again and again ; and when ,it) by de- grees, was placed in new and peculiar points of view, and became mixed up with legal process, in which the Director himself was involved, he began by little and little to listen to the story with a certain degree of curiosity. There might possibly, after all, be something in it. Aunt Nella felt hetself, in the meantime, probably as a night-lamp would feel — ^if it ever feels at aU — which was ad- vanced from a comer in the nursery ^ the drawing-room, or as a naught — ^thus — ^whioh finds the figure 1 set before it. She felt herself quite important, and remarkable, and happy, to be thus called out every evening and hghted for her dreaded, yet, in reality, always beloved, brother-in-law. She 180 HBBTHA. felt herself important to the whiole family, and so shfe was ifl fact, when she could thus amuse themasterof the family; and ber histories became more and more annnated, and the great laWsilut assumed greater significance and more remarkabte Form. Thus passed on the summeri and many thittgB in the ramily had become brighter. Hertba was allowed to employ tier time as she Ukedj and enjoyed this freedom. If her father only saw her at rneal-times he was satisfied. One subject, nevertheless, continued to cause her trouble. [t was that her father took no steps for 'the accomplishment of Mb promise as regarded her becoming legally independent. She had twice ventured, with .a beatiteg heart, to remind him of Ms promise to her ; but she was always put off with a stem reply, eithter, that she need not trouble herself about it, or by the enquiry, *' why she was in such a hurry ? If she wanted money she might ask bim ! » The emotion and the good-will wMch had been excited by the events of the fire, and by Alma's death, seemed now to have died away again, and Ms selfish disposition was once more in the asceifdant. A young woman placed in circumstances siuch as tJioSe of Eertha is very helpless. The nobler^ and the more delicate and sensitive are her feelings, the more difficult is her position. There are people who^ without any desire to act unjustly, have yet an indescribable difficulty in giving out of their own hands either inoney or power. We do not condenm them ; we know that selfishness and avarice, as well afl levity and indolence, have their origin' in natural organization, and that to a certain degree they are beyond the power of man. "Dear D., what am I to do to get lid of this cursed Avarice ? " asked, more than once, the rich banker B. with a sigh, from Ms friend and principal bookkeeper. He wished^ but he could not free Mmself from his hereditary sin. Maay a human being here on earth advances no fiirlier than the wish to do right. It is good, nevertheless^ fi)r Mm to advance so far, and — "that which is impossible to man is possible to God." We therefore condemn the selfish man no siore than THE NEW HOME. 181 any otfeer sinner, but. we sincerely wish that human life and happiness could become as much as _posBible wholly indepen- dent of either the feelings, the consent, or pleasure of indi-- •viduals. Swedish women have still, in this respect, mueh to df sire from the laws of their native land. Hertha would have felt still more acutely her father's breach of faith towards her, had it not been very evident to her that his powers of mind were decliningj^ and that, probably, in this might lie the grounds of his procrastination. She saw with uneasiness that his memory for later events was failing, and that it "was difficult for him to understand money affairs. Yet, at the same time^.he continued with inflexible obstinacy, the sole management of them, and would communicate with no one on the subject. " Tell me if you want money I " said he a few times, and seemed not to have any idea, or to be able to comprehend how insufficient this waS for his daughter's peace or future prospects. She thought with great anxiety of these future prospects, bojh as regarded herself and her younger sisters, whose welfare she now felt it her duty to guard with motherly care. She looked around her for a helper in need, but the more she looked the more she per- ceived how infinitely solitary she was; without relation or friend who could give her advice. Circumstances called upon her to be the support of the house and the family, but denied her that which alone could have given her power as such. Neither her freedom nor her property was in her own power, and her whole soul was repugnant to applying to a stranger for counsel, or appealing to the Swedish Court of Justice to compel her own father to ^ve her that freedom which he re- fused to her. Besides this,' she knew the feeling of Courts of justice with regard to the lately agitated question of allowing an unmarried woman ^o become legally independent at a given age, and this had shaken. her faith in thejr justice. It was during these distressing circumstances that her soul aroused itself and found ■pSsuse in its own pure dtesires, and in the conviction that the 'governing power of the world was more just than human laws and judgments. The Gospel which 182 HEBTHA. Tngve had revealed to her, -began to diffuse its light through her soul. She often thought of the words, "Righteous Fa- ther, the world has 'not known Thee," — and appealed from her earthly to her Heavenly Father, now her only hope, and con- tinued quietly to fulfil her every-day duties, attentively watch- ing the while for any favorable turn which circumstances might take, in the hope that the moment would come when she could take a decisive step to secure herself and her future. She began during this time to exercise a more and more beneficial effect upon the education of her young sisters. Sl}p endeavored to accustom them to a settled course of dailgr work, and showed them the ultimate object of this as beyond our earthly life. They must serve God and His kingdom in so doing ; that was the principal' thing ; whetfeer in wealth; or in poverty was secondary.^ The object of life was, in every case, grand and rich in results. She talked with them, more- over, of the Saviour. Thus talked Hertha ; but like the good man, whose spiritual conflict we have lately mentioned, often fascinated by the lofty doctrine which she promulgated, she yet withdrew many a time to her own chamber to shed the bitter tears of doubt and suffering. It often appeared to her as if she consecrated the lamb for sacrifice ; and she .wept over her sisters, over all the young souls which would be born, live, and slowly die in this hard unrighteous world; Afterwards^ she dried hfer tears and went from her own room, grave, but calm, ready to work, to sustain, to comfort. She concealed the tomb in her own heart, and let' the flowers above it send forth their fragrance for others. A certain, singular^ lofty, and touching beauty developed itself the while, in her glance, voice, and whole being, together with an increasing power over the souls of others, which she felt, not without pleasure. Her young sis- ters, in particular, attached themselves to her with an enthti- siastic devotion. Her glance, her words, seemed to operate upon them, almost with a magical ■{>ower. It was about this time, when Providence brought her A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. A PBiEND of mine, a witty lady, said, on one oooasion, that she did not compute her life by ordinary years, but by the acquaintances, who became important to the life of her soul. Such a new acc[uaintance was to her a new-life's year. This mode of eoniputing life's years is to my taste, and I have good reason to adopt it. Did not my youth, properly gOrcalled, commence through a new acquaintance, when the years which are commonly called the youthful, lay a long way behind me ! Hertha had said the same. " My youth is passed ; is passed forever!" she had exclaimed, but the acquaintance of Tngve Nordin had caused her to feel that she never before that time had known the true youthftil-hfe of the soul, and day by day only increased this consciousness. One day when she, as usual, accompanied by the pastor's wife, viated her patient, they found with him Judge Carlson, whom we have already men- tioned as a "noble old man." His white hair ; the unmistake- able expression of earnestness and honesty in the frank, cheer- ful countenance, which seemed almost without shadows, im- pressed the beholder favorably at the first moment, and few were they who, on a nearer acquaintance, were not charmed by his gentle humanity, at the saine time that they felt a reve- rence for his integrity and love of truth. Truth was his only {Mission, and he sate at ^lbt feet like a disciple, list^iing and learning. For this reason he never hesitated to abandon an opinion which he discovered to be faultyj or openly to acknow- ledge that he did so. People, however. Who were afraid of petty consequences, and who loved rather the little, every-day I than truth herself, imputed this to him as weakness and vacillation. 184 HEKTHA. He had, as well as Yngve, been elected a member of the com- mittee — nay the family, who were to prepare a plan for new dwellings for the working-classes, to be erected in place of those which were burnt down. They now laid before Hertha and Mrs. Dahl their ground- plans and elevations, and called ujwn them to become fellow- workers in this family. "I take it for granted," said Judge Carlson, "that mis- tresses of families, in Swedish towns, have never been- consult- ed with regard to the construction of the house. I cannot otherwise account for the want of convenience which prevails in the arrangeinent of dwelling-houses, ,in particular in the Idtchens and domestic oflSces. In our country, too, where the years may be counted by the winters, how important it is that particular attention should ■ hh paid to the comfort and con- v^emence of those within the house, the greater portion of whose hfe is occupied by the daily business of the necessities of life. On the principal floors, it is true, care is taken to have the drawing and dining-rooms convenient, but the other rooms, those appropriated to the donlestics in particular, are placed just how and where they can be ; and in smaller houses the mistress of the family has often to look for the kitchen across a L'ourt, a lobby, or even on another story. "We must have this different!; we must contrive some way of having comfort and convenience for the inhabitants within the house ; and we must Qow begin in 5ur own town — you must help us in this !" These last words were addressed to the two ladies now present. This proposal chimed in with the subject. which was always present in Hertha's soul, and thelife, as it were, of her hfe. "Thank you," she said, smiling, "that you wiU permit ladies to give an opinion on a subject which nearly concerns their comfort, — ^their well-being, it may be said." There was no bitterness in Hertha's expression, although in the vor^s— she could not help it — there was a secret reproach. The lawyfer perceived it, and accepted the challenge in a chivalric manner. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 185 "There is proT>&,t)ly no one,*' replied he mildly, "who would more earnestly wish than I should that ladies were - consulted, and their oj)i;iions listened to with regard to most of the questions of life. Their natural tact and intuitive perception would make them the best of councillors, especially if they were educated fuUy to comprehend the subjects which would be likely to come under discussion." - " Which are these subjects ?" asked Hertha. But no'iv a great difference yras discovered' in the views entertained by Judge Carlsoll and Hertha. The old lawyer conceded to woman the veiy highest influence, an influence indeed which would operate upon the whole race, through her action upon domestic Ufe and morals ; he would desire to see her developed to her utmost power and extent, for the benefit of home,- husband, children, parents, brothers and sisters, and through the domestic circle, for Society at large ; but he would not desire to see her education directed to any sphere of action beyond domestic life and its immediate world. He would have pubHp seminaries for het, but only witt the intention bf developing her for that sphere " which nature evidently and nature's lord, created her for." They were the views of the old school which he propound- ed, although with some modifications in a liberal direction, and with an exceptioilin favor of unusually gifted ladies. Hertha could not be silent ; could not Usten to a noble- minded man Expressing, according to her views, opinions so utterly imperfect, without her spirit raising itself like a north- ern Amazon on her war-horse to the sound of the war-clarion. " Can any human judge," said she gravely and without temper, " pronounce judgment on this subject ? Has h6 sate in council with God, and heard the Creator say to woman, ' Thus far shalt thoii go and no farther !' Is it not to encroach upoa this office of the Supi-ejilie Judge, and to circumscribe his kingdom, when human judges will bind with their statutes a being whom He has created in ^js image ; when they inclose her in a small, narrow circle, and say, 'Within this shalt thou breathe think, behold, but not 186 HEKTHA. beyond it. It is the wiH of God!' Oh no, God ha^ not willed it," continued Hertha, whUst a calm but inward, fire by degrees kindled her whole being, " God has not willed it to be so. Ask all mankind and light-seeking souls of my sex what the Creator speaks to them within their own conscien- ces, and you will hear something very different. May I speak ?" " Yes, speak !" replied the lawyer, astonished at the young girl's words and expression, at the same time that he was extremely curious to know what she would say : " speak ; I will listen and learn !" added he cordially, when she hesitated a moment to express herself. Hertha resumed: "Thus He speaks to me, and to every soul which seeks for freedom and Ught : ' Thou art my child,; and all that is mine is thine, thy just inheritance and thy share ; whether it be liberty, knowledge, art, power, happi- ness, or whatever else which I have created in the world, and which I gave to thee and thy brother to rule over and have dominion in. Thou art my youngest child, and my last witness among the created beings of the earth. In thy heart have I written my law of love. Go, possess thy portion in my kingdom, in order that thou may est in all partsof it testify of me, and help thy brother to extend it over the earth.' " Thus speaks the Father, every day to his daughter. But what does the brother say to the sister ? Does he not say, ' I am the flrst-bom. The greater portion of the inheritaage belongs to me. Thou must be contented with such portion as I shall leave thee ; because I am the strong one, and. power and honor and glory are mine. Seek for labor, for light, and for joy in the sphere which I shall point out to thee, and then thou shalt have my support and my favor. But take care not to intrude upon tay share, otherwise it will not be well for thee ; and thou wilt be going out of thy proper vocation, which is to — amuse and to serve me !' " Hertha paused ; the lawyer said, "Well,* I still recognise the justice of the brother's speech, although it is now, ia various countries, becoming considera- A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 187 bly softened, more reasonable, more manly, but — ^let us hear what the sister replies." " ' Yes ;' she replies," continued Hertha. " ' Brother, God created us both in his image, made us both rulers over the earth, and gave us each other for helpers, that we might together glorify Him on the earth. He did not make thee for my master, and whep thou becamest such, the order of the world was destroyed, and Paradise- closed against us. We were bom as equals on the first morniag when every- thing was yet good ; as equals, he has again given us birth on that second day of Creation when the spiritual man is born upon the earth, and has placed us again side by side, as two pilgrims seeking for Eden, and only hand in hand can we again find it. Thou dost not know, I do not know as yet what powers he gives to thee or me ; — ^but give me my paternal inheritance of hbertyj my portion of the kingdom of life, and of all which God has given us, and ,all which is mine wiU become thine and thy lot, even as mine wiU'be twofold.' " Again Hertha paused. The lawyer said : " The sister dpes not speak amiss in abstracto ; but now let us come to the practical application of her speech. What would it be, for example, at the present day ? What would she ask of her brother ?" " The possibility of an education and independent action such as he enjoys," repUed Hertha with earnestness and warmth. " Open to her schools and colleges, which would give her an opportunity of knowing herself and her inborn powers ; and afterwards open to her the paths in which she niight freely exercise them ; otherwise they become both to herself and society a dead and buried talent. Remove all the old barriers and limitations, cast aside cowardly fear; have instead, a large-minded confidence in God, that He can guide and preserve his work. Let the sister as well as the brother ask herself, ' In what way can I serve God and his kingdom on earth ?' And let them reply by the free develop- ment in his service of the gift, the talent which He' has given. Thus together seeking for the Supreme Good, will they not 18^ HfiETHA. find eaoli other and be inwardly united, as is notr very seldom the case? Brother, sister, child of God! Those words ought to become truth on the earth, but they can oiUy become 30 When' the freedom both of brother and sister introduces bhe ftilnegs and the perfection of both. Do not say, therefore, that is the man's portion . and that is the- woman's portion, but s£ty, rather, man and woman are«two portions of the same humanity, called to serve God, the one as man, the other as (voman, according to the -gift and the power ■which He has given." Hertha was silent; but she had spoken Tpth that enthusi- Mm which is the result of strong conviction, and which never faUs to produce a deep impressiOii upon the hearers. Judge Carlson had attentively listened to her and contemplated her while she spoke, animated by a noble and heartfelt inspira- tion. When she ceased speaking, hi, too, remained silent For a moment, and then said : " You are the best advocate on this subject which I have aver met with, and I confess that you have placed the subject before me in a new point of vieW, and it is possible that the me which has hitherto been mine, may be altogether too larrow. In the mean time, however, let us look at the subject I little closer, and I will give you a few biases to consider, fou have only as yet placed befote us the bright side of the results of emancipation. Lfet us fbi* a moment contemplate ;he other side.'' The' lawyer now advanced many Strong instances of this lark side, several of which were drawn from real life, in rarious countries,^ and gave various absurd descriptions of jmancipated women, all of which have been too Ofleti pro- iuced, and are too WeU kboWli, for there to be any necessity )f our repeating them here. To this Hertha replied :— - "Save faith in the divine: give it fair play and it will jonquer ; awaken it, and let God be the guide. The abSnrdi- ;ies you have mentioned have been produced from pfire con- iradictioh; in the same way that monsters among flowers ire produced fi'om deficiency of air and light ; they are th6 A NEW ACQUAINTAIfCE. 189 ofispring of an endeavor which has not found its proper vent* They prove the existence of a life, a longing which deserved a better guidance. Give this, by means of justice and love ; awaken the higher consciousness ; let the feminine ideal, or rather the human ideal wHoh woman represents, be it what it may, in domestic or civil life, in seiencej art, mechanics, or in the highest, the religious life, stand clearly forth before the eye of woman in their glowing years, and they will learn to love it ; allow them liberty to form themselves according to this type, and beauty will then ^rive away the ridiculous. The educational abortions of which you speak will vanish as jgnes-fatui at sunrise." The conversation was long continued in this strain, and Hertha, who was aU the more inspired, as well by the influence of the subject itself as by the enjoyment of an inteEectual combat with an opponent of superior knowledge, noble, far- seeing, and her own equal in love of truth, developed more and ifioro her own ipward wealth of larggr views, and feeling for the general, although her insight into the particular might not yet be fully clear. Tngve, at the beginning of the contest, hiad not, without fear and some uneasiness, hea.rd her keen expression of opinion, but the fujrt;her she went, the calmer, the more joy- ous, the prouder he became of his friend, and observed with delight the impression which her words aud her manner pro- duced upon the old lawyer. He had begun by supporting Hertha, but afterwards amused himself by jocular remarks, now ia favor of %ke argmnents of one side, and now of the other. The pastor's wife, who probably considered the discussion to be one of those " which did not concern her," went in and out in the mean time, busied in covering a table in the room with, SL delicious entertainment of the fruits of the season. Hertha now rose to assist her in these good offices. Excited by the conversation, and the part she had taken in it, she perhaps never looked, so dignified, anjnade her timid and shy in hisvpresenoe. I hope that you can bear this discovery with strength of mind. But, my poor brother, what will you say when I now proceed to tell you about your ' fat inclination.' Set a bottle of water by your Side, before you read what follows. " As you know, I like to .mix in all our six or seven social circles and coteries of the town, and therefore I was a short time ago at one of the third or fourth rank subscription-balls, which you are very weU acquainted with. Alderman-cheese- monger Jonsson's wife and daughters, Adelgunda and Con- iSOrdia, were there, — all three as feir, fet, and good-tempered as could be wished for, in the race, who you know make mudi account of being in good condition. I determined, as usual, SHOET VISITS. 199 to have a little conversation with Mrs. jBnsson, who amuses me greatly, and accordingly seated myself beside her during the dancing and said — " ' They really are very capital these balls, and the price is so reasonable.' "'I don't exactly think so,' said Mrs. J8nsspn bluntly, « every ball costs twelve skillings, and in the course of the evening there are hardly more than four dances, that is three sMlUngs a dance. That is dear enough, I think. And how people tear about in the waltz ; enough to work all the flesh off their bones ! I am sure that Adelgunda wiU be quite thin with aR that tearing about.' " When the waltz was over, Mrs. Jonsson called Adelgunda to her and they both went into the inner room. I accompa- nied them, being a little curious, and saw the tender mother take a large sausage sandwich out of her bag, which Adelgun- da must eat standing. " ' You wish,' said I to Mrs. Jonsson, ' to counteract the effect of the violent exertion of the waltz.' ^ " ' Tes, that is just it,' said she seriously ; ' it is not, you may believe me, so easy to get up again the flesh which peo- ple dance off their bones ; and especially when they are be^ trothed, — girls always get thin then.' " ' Betrothed !' exclaimed I. ' Is Adelgunda betrothed ?' "'Yes, believe me,, that she is. Did not Mamsell know? Yes, she is just betrothed to Lieutenant Krongranat. So now she will have a little title of her own ; ay, ay, I thank you!' " I was surpi-ised, and offered my congratulations, and look- ed at Adelgunda, who stood theife eating her sausage sand- wich, and looked calm, and fat, atiid fair, and actually quite splendid. " ' Well, that is excellent,' said I' J- 'but where then is the bridegi-oom?' " 'He is now gone to Stockholm, to buy a few things,' re- plied Mrs. Jonsson, with a glance full of meaning, half at me and half at Adelgunda. 200 flEETHA. " ' Yes, yes, I understand,' said I ; ' I should not wonder if Mamsell Adelgunda grew a little thiiiner ; it must make her a little uneasy to know tliat her bridegroom is such a long way oflf as Stookhohn.' •" ' Oh, there's no danger,' said -Adelguiida, with impertur- bable calmness. " ' Tliink if he should not come back !' " ' Oh, there's no danger ; he'll come back again safe enough,' said Adelgunda. " ' And when is the Wedding to be, if I may ask ?' * " ' At Martlemass,' replied Mrs. Jonsson ; ' I think my geese will be fattened by that time. "We shall have a large w^d- iing, because all the relations must be invited, and I don't beHeve I shall be able, to sit with my hands crossed tiUit's over. And no help can I have from Adelguiida, for I wiU not let her be faggiag about and running the flesh pff her bones. No, I would rather be worried to dea;th myself; that is the iot of mothers and the way of the world.' " You see now, my brother, ' the way of the world;' as far IS your inchnations in Kungskoping are concerned, and I can see from this distance what an effect it produces on you ; I see low you go to the stove and light — your cigar, and sit down jn the sola to smoke it. " For puflishment theredf you shall now hear a little about jur society's affairs, our family-union. It" succeeds better than i^oti, Mrs. TJggla, and Co. predicted ; nay, indeed, so well that t is a pleasure to behold, and these new family-connexions ieem expressly calculated to make people pleasantly acquaint- 3d with one another, and to lead to alliances of friendship, and 3ven to some of a warmer kind, as I have just related. And ;hen the visits to the houses of the poor, and the sympathy jxcited for theu- circumstances; I tell you, brother, all this produces more good than you can believe ; nay, the simple [act of a poor mother or father being able to pour out their troubles, to speak of their prospects and wishes for tlieir chU- 3ren, it is like admitting fresh air into the breasts and the dwellings of those who sit in darkness. Industry, comfort, SHOET VISITS. 201 and hope increase under the friendly countenance of those ■who are better off in life. And one can sympathise and help in many ways without giving money. The Countess P. is unceasingly active and kind. It is a delight to accompany her on her visits to her district. The Count also is excellent both in word and deed. • Our good pastor's wife busies her- self about the children and the infant-school without intermis- sion, (she is especially the mother of the motherless,) and labors to obtain for the school a better situation than it now rejoices in. A number of poor mothers come daily to beg that their children may be there taken charge of during the day, that they may be at liberty to go out and work for them. I have been to-day with the pastor's wife to visit the school- room into which the children were received after the great fire. There was a terrific crowd, but all was neat and orderly. A couple of loquacious children related to us the fate of the school after the fire in the following manner : " ' Just when the- mistress had ended the morning prayer ; that was on Monday, wasn't it? — ^Ay, it was; for you see, Thursday was the fire, and on Friday everybody's heads were turned, and Saturday was a holiday ; so first on Monday the children came here again, then the gentleman came in — ^he that manages for the house. And he said, the mistress and we all must get ready to pack off that very moment, because the building must begin in a jiffey, spite of biimt-out folks. And then there was a pretty halloo-baloo, as you may believe ; and we got ready to start. But just as we were going, the lady talked to the works-director right well, and said it wasn't a .bit better than if we'd been burnt out of house and homo altogether. And then the director was so good as to pack us all in here altogether, and in that way we are again a school, you see. ' But you see the worst of all is, that they are such noisy folks that live in the other room, they are burnt-out folks, such a lot of theiii ! Sometimes we are almost frightened out of our little lives, they' are so wicked, and make such a din; al the more since the mistress has fallen sick, with all the hurry and worry ; and if it had not been for Mother Amalia, 9* )2 H3SIiTHA. e could not have got tihrough with our lives. But fihe m \A a rare one, she is ! and so clever, and teaches us so capi- il ! so — it's regularly jollj, now ! ' "It was during dinner-time that we had this talk with the ii#«. But do you know who that ' Mother Amalia ' was who eiit among the ohUdren and gave them their food, assembled SftMto prayers and reading andsinging, and instructed them ith a firmness and a motherly affection "at the same time, hidi made the children obey her as nature obeys our Lord ? hoB, ' Mother AmaUa,' whom the children praised so much, eg, sha is no other than that same Amalia HIrd whom you up,' remember very well in her gay days, and whose later sor- j'V^ul history you also know. Hie iafant-sehool had been BWOVied, or rather crammed into a room in tbe house where jieiiv.ed, and she had taken the siok school-mistress into one of ertwo rooms, and augrsed 'her whilst she was unable to perform er duties in the sokool. Beside the cra;dle of her little boy ow sits a little lame girl of nine years old, of icheerfUl disposi- om, with bright eyes and the most lovely voice, so that it is a leasure to hear her sing. Amalia teaches her new songs, '•hich she allows her to siiig with the school children. Amalia Lways had a good -heart, even in her giddy, youthful days, and ow she shows it,^ together with abilities, and a desire to do ood, which we had never before given her credit for. Love )r her child seems to have ennobled her, and developed in er a maternal sentiment even for other children. If Mrs. N. Iiould not recover, as seems probable, because she suffers from hronic affection of the chest, Amalia would probably be ngaged as mistress of the school, if there were not an if, and specially if Mrs. Tupplander were not in the way. The rorld is very unjust whidi makes such a mighty sin of one loment^s false step, and pays so little regard to years of fidel- iy, ftdfilment of duty, self-sacrificing love, industry, and to the mquestionable earnestness and power of a wish to do right, Lmajia seems now as -if born anew, and quite happy ^in her feshi, occupation. If one could but see the end of it. I foresee uregalar istruggle with our Corsair. The pastor's wife isoiot SHOET VISITS. 203 herself quite satisfied with the affair. But I hope that our Lord will help us — ^I mean AmaUa, Hertha, and myself. '^Apropos of myself; I am in a fair way of losing my heart. Can you guess to whom ? Why, to no other than to your friend and the sworn enemy of the ladies'-sooiety, the Protocol Secretary^— JN. B. IJe is so good to our poor folks ! and in that case he may be as angry as he hkes with ladies'-soeie- ties. " Towards me he is particularly gracious (although I turn to him in all sorts of parish businessi), the reason of which I opine to be, that I very often fool him into laughing. He does everything that I ask of him. I have often remarked, as a general rule, that what people will not do for the sake of neces- sity, they will often do either for the sake of a joke or a good laugh. And in this way your friend N. B. and I have become very godd friends. But you know what I have said, if I should ever meet with a wealthy man — for I will not be poor if I can help it,, least of all as a married woman — ^ready to help and do good — (in a rational sort of way, of course), whom I can like, and who wiU have me — and papa along with me, then — ^I will not promise for what may happen ! " Now you laugh at me, and I do so too, and go and get ready papa's supper, and look after seventeen other things, " But remain for ever, and with my whole heart, " Tour devoted Mster, " MiMMI S." No. 2. Mks. TJggla sits ia her arm-chair and reads the newspaper, sipping every now and then her afternoon coffee. Now she lays down the newspaper, takes off her spectacles, raises her- self a little in her chair, and siglung with a secret satisfaction, says: " Such a number of old ladies dead ! and three of them my good friends! — ^It is a fact though, that the newspapers 'are very interesting. One learns so much from them. What, tsjthatf^you again,' dear Ingeborg? Cannot I have any eace???,. . *'N^ot;just now, mamma dear — ^impossible! I must have 05y;little children's blouses cut out by the day after to-morrow ; have hot half done them, and if mamma ■wiU not help me I Mil iget into disgrace in my fainily, and be scolded by Dr. federaiann.- Imust now go with Hertha to visit our sick atside the -town, and if, dear mamma, you would be so good Bift goiftn-jwith the cutting-out while I am away, I shall then et through my undertaking with credit ; otherwise I shall ot." " WejJ, in that case I suppose I must," sighed Mrs. XJggla, ising from her chair ; " but it is very wretched with all. these jhemes, which only give people trouble ! Now, where haye ou put the scissors and stuff? It . is quite certain that/I ught to have the title of mother in the cutting-out femUy !" And so sighing, Mrs. Uggla began her work, haltsmiling tie. while at Ingeborg, who kissed the hand in which she laced the large ,pair of scissors, and said cheerfiilly as she rent out : " Only don't be too quick, mamma dear ; leave a little for ae to do! " Ingeborg went, and Mrs. Uggla began her work in good lamest. Mrs, Uggla was really both more occupied and less lut of spirits than she used to be. Ingeborg knew what por- ion of the business, which occupied the attention of thefamUy- p-oups was calculated to call forth her mother's interest and ympathy, and this falling, as it were, into her hands, had fiven a new turn to her thoughts and conversation, The luman-being — ^let naturalists say what they. Uke on the sub- ect-^is a rununant animal. He chews the cud of feeUngaaiBd houghts, the bitter as well as the sweet, when he has time or it. "The human heart," says Luther, "is like a pair of . mill- itones. If good corn is placed between them, they grind it Bto good meal. But if they have no com to grind, they »rind away themselves." SHOKT, VISITS. 205 With this true observation we will proceed to our next visit. No. 3. Two young ladies are walking together on the roaid that fine evening, towards the end of summer. We recognise Hertha and Ingeborg. Their steps are directed towards the town. The evening sky glows with a warm but tender light ; the air is calm, the crickets chirp in the grass. Ingeborg's countenance, brightened by the evening flush, and animated by her walk, is very unlike what it appeared in the ball-room a few months ago. She now looks well, healthy, and cheerful. The two young friends had walked in silence for some time, when Ingeborg said : " People say so much about a beneficent activity for our distressed fellow-creatures being beautiful, but they never speak of the joy it gives, nor of its beneficent, elevated influence upon those who practise it. And yet it seems to me that this is so great, that it is like the reward of heaven to those who labor in- its service. I confess, that for many years I have not felt so well and so cheerfiil in mind, as I have done during these last months, when I have been obliged to be actively employed for our society. Ah ! it is such a good thing to be able to forget one's own poor I, and to think about other people, and to work for them ;. and when one feels that one can be^of some little use, can do some Httle good by one's life and oije's work, it elevates the mind. Occupation during the day ; walks in the fresh air, on one's visits to the dwellings of the poor, waft away many a germ of disease, both of mind and body. Why, Hertha, should the lives of so many of us be like a stagnant mere, when we have both time and strength to give, and when there is so much, and such countless numbers of people who need them?" "I have often myself asked that question, Ingeborg," replied Hertha, " but have not yet found an answer. A great }S, BERTHA.. ^aj 9f,fault Ue?i in the vay in which society loots at the pro- lem of our life, as ■well as in our education and positioa in (ciety. Much also lies in our own apathy, or, more properly )eaking, selfishness. A greal .deal of egotism prevails in our sx ;. and the feminine T is e(nly too much inclined to see the Jtole worligL in the little, narrow circle which it calls its own. [g^y, top, -t^iere ar^e ;wbo iwi^todo oltoerwdse, but dare not. 1 the mean fax^e the benevolent societies, ■whidi are now eing established in all Christian countries, are signs of an ttended horizon, ajad a higher and more comprehensive life, "he heart begins to expand its world. This is good, and the fell-inclined obtain therefrom lencouragement and guidance, iut I cpnfess that the direction into which it principally xtgnds itself is not sufficient for me. These works of benevo- snce, as they are called, this activity for the outwardly pooS* — oes not satisfy my soul, nor the requirement of my spirit. I esire ain activity for the mind, a service in the service of the pii-it. And — ^no need that it should be less 6^odS«-service h^ laboring for the hungry and the naked 1" " Ah, no," said Ingeborg, " the very contrary ; the Mtterest loverty js tbat of the spirit ; the most tormenting hunger is hat pf the soul. But not many are able to satisfy it. You f ho are one pf the imusual and strong souls, you may do it, md many, many will ble^s you for "that reason. "We all of us leed more freedppi and a wider futiire than we po^ess for he powers which Gpd .has given us. But not many of us eel the thirst for knowledge and light which you speak of Dhe greater numbgr .of women, it seems to me, are created to ind their most beautiful happiness as wives and as mothers ; bey do not comnionly covet anything higher !" "But this is a defect, Ingeborg, and a contractedness of Bind in them who, being these, aim at nothing higher than being merely happy. And that which beyond everything 3lse appears to me to be the fault of our sex, is precisely this anoonsciousness of its highest vocation. Therefore so many of thepi hve, suffei', and enjoy as thoughtless, aimless bdngs, ruled by circumstances instead of ruling them; requiring SIIOET VISITS. 207 everythmg from another, and living as parasites instead of having life and peace in God, and living as His witnesses and the feenefactors of their fellows." "You speak heautiful and proud words, Hertha!" said Ingeborg, whilst tears filled her eyes, " and it does me good to hear them, although they show me how far I am from the point of view which they assume. And many, like myself, fettered by circumstamoes, over which they have no control, may be able merely to raise themselves, by feebly fluttering their wings, above them, — ^nay,.many never can raise them- selves before they have broken the chain of human life." " And I too," said Hertha, smiling sorrowfully, " am consi- derably weaker than my words. I only say what I wish, and what we ought all to he ! " " What the devil are the girls marching along for ?" sound- ed a harsh voice behind them, and at the same time some one was heard advancing with hasty steps. They turned round and saw Dr. Hedermann, who as soon as he had reached them took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and said : " I think you must have wings at your feet. Here have I been on the full trot after 'you for the last quarter of an hour, all the way from the village yonder, in order to catch you. But you ran away as if you were afraid of me. Now confess that you saw me coining, and hastened away because you thought that I was going to the cottages after you, and you were afraid of being scolded by the wicked doctor, who is always finding fault with people, and especially with ladies and their goings-on. Confess ! Was it not so ? " But the young ladies had nothing of that kind to confess, nor did they seem afi-aid-of the wicked doctor, but, on the contrary, glad to see him and to have* Ms company the rest of the way. The three were now soon in -the full discussion of their general family affairs, within the soeietyj and of various measures and proceedings with regard to the sanitary man- agement of the poor children. The good doctor, and Inge- borg especially agreed on this subject, and while the twihght gathered around them and the stars came forth in the heavens, 208 . HEKTHA. thoughts also and plans were suggested for the destitute little ones which would brighten their dim future. Hertha took leave of her friends at her own door, and the doctor accompanied Ingeborg to her own home. But the conyersation which had hitherto been carried on so easUjr, seemed now all at once to be stayed. A Certain melancholy silence overcame the doctor, and he answered nothing to an attempt or two made by Ingeborg to renew the conversation. The two became silent ; the doctoi; plucked' now and then a little flower from the dewy grass, a blossom of fragrant white clover or a sprig of ladies' bed-straw, and thus they reached the town and Ingeborg's home. Here t£e doctor paused. " Will you not come in and say a word or two to mamma ?" said Ingeborg almost beseechingly. ^'Not this evening," replied the doctor, decidedly, "but another time, when I will ask you, Miss Ingeborg, something. But — do you like field flowers, Miss Ingeborg? — siniple, evety-day flowers ?" " Better even than g&tden flowers." " Indeed ! I could not have beUeved that ; but one makes many mistakes in this world. Well, it is pleasant that you like common flowers ; see, here are some. Good night." And as the doctor gave Ingeborg the little bouquet, he fixed upon her a deep, strangely questioning glance, a glance which went like an arrow to her heart, and awoke there a feeling at once uneasy and delicious. Never before had he looked at her in that way. Ingeborg found her mother in an unusually excited state of xalnd. An invitation had arrived to a grand entertainment in the neighborhood, giVen by the Von X 's, he being a lord of the bedchamber. " All the Slite of the town and country would be there," said Mrs. TJggla, "and, Baron P and Count S — '■ — ; and, Ingeborg, you must have a new sUk for the occasion." " Kow, mamma !" said Ingeborg;" now, when such numbers are without clothes in consequence of the fire. I don't feel as SHORT VISITS. 209 if I ought now to think about a new ball-dress. Ah, no ! but if mamma loves me, let me rather have the money which it would cost, and lay it out as I like." " But, dear Ingeborg, it never will do to go to such a ball in your old dress, everybody " " Then do not let us go-," said Ingeborg. " Ifot go to the ball ?" said Mrs. IJggla with horror. " Ko, do not let us gb," said Ingeborg,. with more decision than usual; "I know, dear mamma, that you would go merely for my sake, and I would much rather stay at home." " Tou might just as well be a nun, and go into a convent," said Mrs. Uggla, both angry and vexed, " as you have made up your mind to be an bid maid, and live a stupid unnatural life." " Is my mother then so tired of me that she wishes to get rid of me d tout prix P" said Ingeborg ; " I am very sorry that ybu are so tired of me, mamma." " I am not, indeed, 4;u'ed of you, my dear child," said the poor old woman, sighing, " but don't you see, it is for your own best interest. I know that my temper is bad, (ever since your father died it has got worse,) and that I cannot make your home happy, and it is distressing to me to see that you must wither away in it, and lose' your good complexion, and have nervous headache?, and to hear people wonder that you don't get married ; and I know that you might have made a good match if you had not been foolish, and if you, like other girls, would but take a little trouble to please- gentlemen." " Never, never again in that way," replied Iiigeborg with unusual emphasis. " If I cannot win .a good husband other- wise than by my dress and my dancing, then let me remain for ever unmarried. My dear mother, we have hitherto only thought too much about this matter. Let us now endeavor not to think of it any more ; leave the whole calmly in our Lord's hand, and think of something else ; for example, how we can make each? other happy in out home, and serve God with the talent that he has given to us. Tell me, mamma, do 210 HEETHA. you not think that I am looking more healthy, and that I am more cheerfiil than I used.to be ?" " Yes, that yon certainly are." "And the reason, dear mamma, is because I have begun to walk in another pp,th than that of balls and suppers, and ha^sq begun to labot for something else than endeavoring to please, which is the hardest labor in the world, especially when people have passed their youthful years. Will you now, mamma, allow me to continue in the way which I have begun, and I then promise that you may be perfectly easy and con- tented on my account ?" " Yt)u do not understand it," returned the mother mourn- fully, " and I never can be easy and contented until Ah, you do ilot know what it is to live a solitary life on small means. But I know it, and therefore I wish you not to expe- rience such a lot; but if you will do so, then I cannot prevent it. Ton may be an old maid and welcome for me, but it would be much better to go into a convent, because then there* would be some credit in it." And Mrs. TJggla in great warmth went into her bedroom. "Would to God that we had convents in our country !" sighed Ingeborg silently. " How beautiftd and great to be Sustained by one common sanctifying spirit ; to be elevated by holy songs ; to dedicate one's life in affectionate sister-com- munion to a service hot of the world, at peace with one's conscience and with life. But no," continued she, as she glanced upwards to the heavens, bright with stars, "I will not sigh after tl^e impossible, but will ask what God's spirit requires from me in this place and at the present time." A ray, a point of the light and life which announces the advent of a new day, and which even in northern countries calls forth new life and new creations, stirred the soul of Ingeborg with the freshness of rich anticipation ; she recalled to her mind the evening's conversation with Hertha and with the doctor, and she felt clearly that she, too, had a vocation in the present time's work of freedom, and a prospect towards a new and more beautiful life. SHOET VISITS. - 211 A new reliance on the fatherly guidance of God, and ah assurance that she had now chosen the right path, the path which He had appointed for her, filled her soul with an unusual joy. Animated by this feeling, she went into her mother's room, embraced her, kissed her, and said : " Don't be unhappy about me, mamma. AH, believe me, wilt turn out right." The poor imhappy mother -looked astonished at the bright, beaming countenance of her daughter ; but when Ingeborg attempted to impart to her the feelings and thoughts which occupied her whole being, she said : " Tou are a good girl, Ingeborg ; better than your mother. You are perhaps right, but I am one of the old school. I cannot follow you into all your modern theories. We shall see who is right in the long run. God knows best. But you must now act as you think right." Again in her own room Ingeborg laid the little bouquet of wild flowers on the table by her piUow, and thought pleasantly of a fresh life of labor in the service of humanity, and in the society of noble friends, and every thought became like a fresh fragrsaice breathing clover-flower on the green field of life. She would have slept well, but for the pecuhar glance which Dr. Hedermann gave her at parting, and — what could he mean ? asked she of herself. The wicked doctor ! it was too late a,hno8t for him to give her such a glance now ! — ^if it had been seven years ago ; — but now, now, was it possible that Such thoughts and questionings prevented her from sleeping. Ifeither did Mrs. Uggla sleep. "With many sighs, she thought : " To lose such a splendid chance ! but she is a simpleton — and those .modem notions! She'll never be married! never be married ! Oh ! ho !" 212 HEETHA. No. 4. Mes. Ttjpplandbe is in a state of great excitement ; she ;hro\^s her bag down upon one chair, her cloak on another, ler bonnet on a third, and exclaims : " Miss Krusbjom ! Miss Krusbjorn ! where can she be ? Dome, and I'll teU yon the news ! Here's a pretty piece of icandal ! But I don't mean to spread it ! I don't mean to lay I cushion under the burden. Such an ungratefial creature ! Did you ever hear anything like it, Miss Krusbjorn ? Amalia ISrd is come back to the town ; she has with her a child, an4 he Calls herself Amalia Winter — I suppose on account of her amily — 'and lives in the house where the infant school is, and. he now. goes and teaches the children. What do you think (f that ! Such a shameless proceeding ! Pretty instruction nil she give to. the children who has an illegitimate child of iCr own. And besides that, she receives, late in the evening, isits from a gentleman, who, it is supposed, may be the ather of her child ; but who lie is I cannot make out, though will know before I've done. Is not that a pretty tale ? And lur pastor's wife and Mimmi Svanberg can allow such bings ! But you see whether Hertha has not had some inderhand dealings with them, on purpose to get a mainte- lanoe for her cousin. For they are cousins, Amalia H§,rd and he ! But if I have any weight with the Directors of the chool, there shall soon be an end to such goings on. Is there obody to be found of a' creditable name and of good onduct, who can imdertake the management of the infant chool during the illness bf the mistress ? I know of a ertainty there is. And such a one, and no other,, shall have bat place as sure as my name is Karin Tupplander. But ow there is a regular intrigue going on in the town. And it omes of that and nothing else, that the engagement between Ir. von Taokjern and Eva Dufya is at an end — ^positively at n end ! The girl has heard some gossip about some dispute r other duiing the fire — all stupid talk ; and so she has SHORT VISITS. 213 begged and prayea of her parents to consent to her Itreaking off her engagement. Ifow she -is trying to become quite learned, and her piarents are afraid of her becoming a blue- stocking, and therefore they intend to take her abroad for a time. But if one betrothal is at an end, there are no less than five others which are in progress! Young people are thrown so much together by these soeiety-familieS) that it is really frightful, Miss Krusbjorn I In niiy time people did ipgt so easily and freely get acquainted, and for that very reason modesty and good morals prevailed. My late husband. Miss Krusbjorn, never once gave me a kiss even during our betroth- al, but only tickled my elbow. And therefore he had respect for me all his days. People did not formerly betrothe them- selves so hastily, nor make such a merriment of it as they do now. A girl turned her tongue seven times in her mouth before she said Yes ! She sate then- at her sewing from morning till night, and danced minuets at balls. She did not leap and tear about in the waltz as she does now. Miss Krusbjorn. But,, other times other manners ! Now there are no less than two of the Du:^as, who it is said are to be married to the two brothers Om ; and Hertha Falk, also ; but she ought to be actually betrothed with Lieutenant Nordin, because she has been his sick nurse all the summer. At least it is not becoming for people to have such familiar intercourse if they are not engaged to each other. And that I shall let my dear Hertha understand ; and then I shall get to know how it stands with the betrothal. Well, well, papa Falk win have a word or two to say on that matter. But now I must above all things make out who is the gentleman who goes of an evening to. Amalia HS,rd. -He was with her twice last week. " Now listen to me. Miss Krusbjorn ; I have promised to have a coffee party on Sunday afternoon. One must see one's friends sometimes, and prepare for what one has to do ; and one can always make out such a quantity of puzzling things when people are thus brought confidentially together. Let us think how many biscuits and tea-cakes we shall 214 HEETHA. require for .about twenty-five or thirty persons. Things are dreadfiiUy dear, Miss Krusbjom, but still one must see one's fi^ends some time !" , si. After this visit on the outskirts of life, we will return to its innermost ; we will talk about LOVE. miracle of earth and heaven, ' Thou liTing breath of happiness, Fresh breeze of the divinest bliss To life's woe-strioken deserts given, Th«u heart that throbbest through creation, Of gods and men, thou consolation. — Teonek But we mean by this high and glorious love which really deserves to be called The fresh breeze of divinest bliss To life's woe-stricken deserts given. We are not speaking of its many imitations, or of that dwarfish race to which people iit a mistake give the name of loves, and who fly about shooting their arrows at random ; butterflies which flutter from flower to flower ; " Loke's fire," which kindles shavings, bums up quickly and soon goes out. The " house-warming" of which people talk in Nor- way, the child of habit and slug^shness ; the catch-fly which is viscous in the spring, but dries up during the heat of summer ; ignes-fatui, which dance upon life's swampy fields, glimmer in the dark, but vanish like vapor at sunrise ; all these and many other symbols of love have their prototypes in life, yesterday as to-day ; and we wiU let them live their little hfe, if they will only keep to the night, and not give themselves out for any more than they reaUy are, not set up any claim to the name of true love. Love is not love, Which alters when it^ilteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove; 216 HEETHA. Oh, no , it is an ever-fixed mart, That looks on tempests, and is nerer shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose wofth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come 1 Love alters not with his b^ef hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.* True love loves the eternal in its object, and the nobler the object the more the sacred flame increases, feeding itself with esteem, approval, admiration, a divine and human joy over the good and the estimable in the beloved^ fiometimes also a divine compassion over his deficiencies, when at the same time the soul is noble and the desire only after good. Happy thou who lovest a noble object, — ^yes, even if thou art not belov^d^ in return ; thy whole life will be ennobled and enlarged thereby ; thou thysejf wUt grow by thy love, grow up in « heaven, and there be united with thy beloved in the bosom of eternal love. If, however, thou lovest thus, and art thus loved in return by thy beloved ! — Thus did Tngve and Hertha love each other with aU their souls' best power; The more intimately they became acquainted, the more pure and inward was the joy which they experienced in each other ; the more they felt themselves to be deeply united. But the serious character of their intercourse ; the subjects which furnished them with conver- sation and thought kept in long abeyance the magicial enchanting sentiment which the poet calls The heart which throbs through all creation, which throughout aU nature clothes in wonderful beauty ob- ject for object, which makes the sea luminous, gives frsigrance to the flower, causes the birds to sing and adorn themselves with the most brilliant plumage, and which makes one human being see in his fellow human being, not an equal but a being * Shakespeare's Sonnets, LOTK. 217 of superhuman charm and superhuman power, whose mere step and voice make the pulses beat with wonderful joy, and whose silent presence even changes the whole existence to a festival. Tngve and Hertha had begun a league of friendship of the most Spartan-like severity, which should exclude every weaker and commoner feeling. The inexpressible charm in each other's being, the grace, the fascination, awoke love which stole upon them like summer into the bosom of spring, as the sunbeam steals into the folded bud and opens it for a new life. If Her- tha in her intercourse with Yngye had always continued to be the proud womaii, whose words were keenly caustic, she would still have continued to be an object of esteem and also of ad- miration, but she would, not have become dear to his inmost soul. The affectionate and womanly heart, however, which constituted the very essence of her being, had, during her inter- course with him, more and more revealed ifself. The upright and noble disposition, the clear insight into truth which she continually saw in Yngve, the manly gentleness which was the principal trait in his character, had operated upon her, as a calm bright day upon the tumultuous waves of the ocean agi- tated by the storm of the night. Unconsciously to herself her mind and her language became more and more gentle, her whole demeanor more beautiful and more agreeable, and not unfrequently did the bright,, flashing glances express a deep though imprisdned warmth of feeling. Yngve resigned himself with joy, and with the ftilness of his whole- heart, to the sentiment which so powerfiilly"and' so blessedly began to captivate his soul. Kot so Hertha ; she resisted the feeling which attracted her towards Yngve. The view which she took of woman's position and life, especially in the north, and the effect of her own peculiar circumstances, had made her suspicious and proud as regarded men in gene- ral, and caused her to oppose herself, as it were, to the impres- sion which Yngve made upon her. He was, in fact, a man, and she had said in her heart, " I will not love ; I wUt'^not give my soul and my happiness into the power of a man !" 10 218 HSKTHA. Aad this determination, together with the. gloomy hackgromid of her own life, which caused her to regard love and its joys as a game for weak souls, a game too mean for the earnest^ ness of human life, gave to her a calmness and a power of self- control much beyond what was in the power of Yngve. She said to herself, " I wjll he Tngve's fi^end ; I will be to him as an elder sister, and love him as my brother 1" But Yngve's amiable image became ever more and more an abiding light in her soul, and accompanied her even ia her dreams. One night it seemed to her that she was floating through space, striving to ascend upwards towards the home of .the sun, but a weight as of lead lay upon her breast, she could not breathe, and felt herself slaking downwards towards a black, bottomless abyss, which yaAvned beneath her. But aiU at once the weight was lifted from lier breast, she breathed more freely, and felt herself sustained as by a new. power ; more easUy and moi-e secm-ely than before she floated upwards towards the world of light, to " Himla the lofty palace, fairer than the sun." At that moment she perceived that she was not alone. A beaming angel wilih the glow of morning on his beautiftd countenance floated towards her, took her hand, and riveted upon her his beaming gaze, and that gaze was — ■ Yngve's. Another time she agaia saw herself beneath the verdurous tree of the world ; the lofty Nornor sate by the Urda fountain. • But the severity which she had formerly seen in their counte- nances was softened to a maternal earnestness, and she heard them say : Hail to the spirits heroic, They who have seen; They who have honestly striven I Xhey shall 234 HEETHA. Sisters, who during a heavenly communion afforded me heavenly joys, and bitter sorrow only when Heaven took you from me ; beloved sisters, it is of you that I think when I speak of the sweetest and most purifying sentiment in; the world, that which binds sister to sister, and enables, through this love, much to be borne and much to be overcome. When Martha and Maria were together in their little cham- ber, they gave for a while free vent to their tears, as well as to conjectures which did not afford them any hght. Finally, they endeavored to console themselves with thinking what they should do in the house during Hertha's absence, and which would give her pleasure on her return. And these lit- tle plans for the future cast a roseate glow over thedncr easing darkness of evening. Hertha, on her part, had felt in her sisters' embrace the renewal of a firm resolve to live for them ; but for that pur- pose, precisely for that purpose, must she now leave them for a little time ; she felt that she must do it. Reader ! either by thy own means, or by means of another, has a misfortune happened to thee, which thou knowest to be irremediable ; which has struck thee with a Mnd of panic ter- ror, and cast a fearful burden upon thy breast, and taken away, as it were, thy breath, and dimmed thy sight — so that it seems to thee as if thou couldst never more be happy, never more breathe freely — ^then thou wilt understand what Hertha felt. If thou dost not die of this blow, or become insane, — as sometimes happens, — then wiU a strange unrest take posses- sion of thee, and thou wilt feel that in order to escape the ravenous beast which threatens to tear thee to pieces, — ^the night which seems as if it would swallow thee up, — that thou must fly, fly away from the time and the place, away from thyself, if possible, — away from the horrible oppression which weighs upon thee, from that which is there, as a corpse, a ghost before thiae eyes, and which prevents thee from think- ing or feeling aright, by the horror of its silent, sorrowful pre- sence. And if thou so feelest, oh, well for thee if thou canst take wings and fly away from the time and from the place ! THE NAME. 235 It is indeed merely an earthly, physical means ; but it is never- theless a little help to obtain breathing room, and to give the soul time and power to reflect upon itself, and upon that which has happened. Travel diverts the mind. The black demon which has eaten into our hearts is lulled to sleep by it. We do not incessantly feel him stabbing and gnawing, and we are able to gain strength to combat with him ; yet not alone from travelling and action. In order to escape from the torturing pang which had over- come her, and to avoid the visits and proximity of Tngve, and to gain time for reflection on the line of conduct which she ought to pursue with regard to him,-^in order to endeavor, from her ,own soul's depths, to obtain some light in the dark- ness which now surrounded herself and him, Hertha felt that she must go away for a time, — ^whither, was a matter of indifference to her — only away, away from him. Through the whole night she paced to and fro m her cham- ber, restless and sleepless. Sometimes she stood by the window and looked up to heaven, but without prayer, and almost without thought, except that dark abyss of doubt which had so long lain like a Mdhogg at the root of her soul, and which now again hfted up his head through the covering of flowers which had latterly been placed there. The stars glittered brilliantly and coldly, and darkness overspread the earth. At daybreak she dressed herself for her journey ; took a little travelling-bag which contained some necessary articles of clothing, together with a small sum of money, the gift of her father, and with this in her hand set out on the way to the harbor, which was between one and two miles distant from her home. Like Rudolph some months before, with the sense of a vast unhappiness in her soul, she walked solitary along the dreary high road to seek for rest somewhere, a long way from home. " Poor Rudolph ! " sighed Hertha, involimtarily. She felt a reproach of conscience for having almost forgotten him (al- though she had written to him and he to her more than once since his flight), for the feelings and thoughts which had dur- 236 HEETHA. ing the last few weeks engrossed her whole soul; and she suddenly took the resolution of visiting him at Copenhagen. " I will see him ! " thought she ; " I can understand him better than formerly, and that will help him to bear his unfortunate life ! " - And perhaps also help myself, whispered a low voice in Hertha's soul. There. was now an object in her journey beyond hersel:^ and this object shone Ukea little star on her gloomy path. It gleamed above her in the dark heaven ; it hghted and guided her steps. There is nothing which, for energetic and at the same time truly feminine characters, is so sustaining under their own calamity, or which is endowed with so great a power of com- pensation, both for soul and mind, as the being able to comfort and support another — above all, a friend. By the thought of this the soul holds itself fast, as by an anchor, whUe the storm rages, and the waves heave aloft, she feels her own danger less ; — it may be that she forgets it. When IIei;tha reached the harbor she found one of the steam-boats just leaving for the western coast, and its dark column of smoke circling aloft towards the clear blue heaven. As' soon as she was on board, the plank was drawn to shore.' THE JOURNEY: GIAMTS AND FAIBIES OF LIGHT. What a poem is that gigantic work in Sweden, which unites the Baltic with the Cattegat, and which we call the Gotha Canal, the " blue ribbon of Sweden ; " what a poem, from its history aiid natural scenery, the grandeur of its design and execution, its great or dehghtful memories ! For three hundred years have the kings of Sweden, from the first Gusta- Tus till the fourteenth Charles, assisted by the genius and the great men of the country, Barsk, Polhem, Swedenborg, Thunborg, Platen, striven for its completion, supported by the arms and the money of the people. Opposed by natural impedi- ments, and by all kinds of diflSculties, after gi-eat adversities and desolating war, amid internal discords, after great losses, as that of Finland, have the rulers and the nation always anew turned themselves to this internal great work, and have begun together to labor upon it, as if in the common understanding that it was in the internal power and life of the country that the nation beheld their secure support and the hope of their fiiture. Wbat a poem is now the journey from the town of Birger ^ on the shores of the Maler Lake and the billows of the Baltic Sea to the town of Gustaf Adolph, on the shores of the Catte- gat, as we pass on the waters of " the Blue Ribbon " through the interior of the country, where primeval mountains open for us, thundering, their gates, and we are borne up on invisi- ble arms, higher and higher, from plateau to plateau, till we reach at length the uninhabited primeval forest, the bosom of wild mountain lakes ; then silently break our way through the bosom of the rocks, and are lowered from them into enchant- 238 HBBTHA. ing lakes which we had just seen lying like mirrors far below our feet, set in frames of fertile country gemmed with towers and castles and cottages ; then speed on through glorious parks, whose leafy trees familiarly ca.ress us in passing with their green boughs ; then emerge into a wide, wild country, in which the giants of nature wrestle, without, however, dis- turbing or impeding our way — Wild waters down the cliSa are thundered ; Bage the Gold Iffland'a powers unblest, But genius com^s — ^the rock is sundered, And a ship lies on its breast I — and thus are we borne by the mighty >rms of science into the bosom of the loveliest scenery, and out upon the broad, calm animated waters of the river Gotha; and all this, whilst a whole world of ancient memories and present romance accom- panies us on the journey with its vala-song; its battles; its rimes, its ancient saga, legend and history ; its heroes' graves and landmarks ; giant-c&,uldrons and holy wells ; ancient castles, ruins and so-called convents, — with here and there some grand or tragic memory, — or the erections of the present day in factories and forts, splendid gentlemen's seats and small red cottages beneath the shade of fir trees, all in perpetual and ever-varying change ; a wonderous runic song, in which the wood-lady and the statesman, the mountain king and the beautiful maiden, the water fairy and the queen, fiction and reaUty contend for the laurels of poesy by the hfe-hke pictures which they present, the feelings which they awaken. « No point, during the whole journey, is however more remarkable than that of Trollhatta. Thou hast left the heights and the mountain-lakes behind thee, Wettern with its spires " and fertile shores ; thou art in the great "Wenner lake, into which four-and-twenty rivers pour their waters from the pro- vinces and the heights around ; thou hast left at a distance the fruitful terraces of Kinnekulle, and beneath the gloomy shadows of Hunne and Halleberg thou advancest into the forests of Westergylln. The waters of "Wenner swelled by the. four- THE JOUBNBT. 239 and-tAventy rivers acoorgipany thee, and cast themselves down the mountain in the wild, stormy fall of TroUhatta. But thou art at peace in the forest, .Thou art home silently through its pine-wood parks upon the granite mountain, and hearest merely at a distance the thundering contest of the giants of nature. Thou emergest from the forest just where the foam- ing force with its powerful Mue-green mass of waters, is all at once changed to the deep broad river, which between idyUian, flowery, and pleasant shores hastens towards a back- ground of blue-grey, distant, billowy mountains, on to the sea. And poets' songs are in his praise indited, . And ships and men go with him as he goes , As guest by affluent towns he is invited ; And fertile fields his devious path enclose. But they detain him not ; he onward hasteth ; The gilded tower, the fertile meadows by, He hasteth ever onward, till ^e casteth Himself into his father's arms to die. The River by TsGNfiiC How solemn, at the same time earnest and agreeable, is the scenery of the very spot where this transformation takes place, and the steamer emerges from the forest-covered mountain by two arms between green wooded hills, ta drop down into the free waters of the river ! What a contrast is this peace with the wild combat, the fall and the locks hard by, the crags and the faU of TroUhatta! Thus, once upon a time, stood here, beautiful and affec- tionate, Ogn Alfafosten, the foster-child of Alfema, when, for her sake, Starkodder, her giant-lover, wrestled- and fought a mortal fight beside these rocks, with her betrothed husband, Hergrim. Tet she was not calm, as this scenery, • for she loved* not the human warrior who conqueried ; she loved Starkodder the giant, and attended him in death. But we have forgotten ourselves in these memories, and we now return to the poor traveller, whom we accompanied 240 • HEETHA. hither, and who was scarcely in a state to enjoy the scenes of whici we have spoken. The morning wind blew cold, j,s the steam-boat worked her way over the dancing waters. Silent and perturbed ill mind, Hertha, wrapped in her dark grey woollen shawl, seated her- self and watched the heaving waterSj the careering clouds, the flying shores, the whirling, beckoiiiiig trees, the leaves of which were abeady tinted With the fifosts <)f'the autumnal nights, and which seemed to be wafting to her their fareweUs. Hour after hour 'passed on* and Hertha sate thus immoveablyi It was as if the pulses of life had stopped under the pressure of a convulsive hand. By degrees i several gentlemen-passengers emerged from their berths below, on deck. They smoked their cigars, spit about, and made the deck filthy. They noticed the lady with the fine figure dressed in black, and her immovability excited their jocular remarks. They called her " the statue," and began to wonder whether she actually were flesh and blood ; whether she had the power of motion, could tftlk, and so on. A sort of half gentleman determined to make the attempt of giving life to the statue. He seated himself beside her, smoking his cigar, every piiff from which the wind blew in her face. She turned her head mechanically away. " Aha !'' thought the new Pygmalion, " she can move. Let me now see whether I camiot make her talk!" And he began, between two puff's of cigar-smoke : "Very — ^fine weather to-day;" puff, puff, "but rather cold ;" puff Ifo answer from the statue ; not a movement. Fresh puffs of cigar-smoke, spitting, smoke, ptiff", and a fresh attempt: " A very fine view ; — don't you think so ? — Have you any commands ?" The statue now turned her head and looked at the speaker. He drew back a little, and looked confused, again drew back a little, returned to his cigar, spit, hummed a tunf, and • THE JOUKNEY. 241 ■went back to the tobacco-smoking group, to whom he whis- pered : " She is certainly mad. She looked at me with such a glance, I was really frightened. It was a regular Medusa, hu — -'\ " A very weU-grown Medusa !" said a tail, elderly gentle- man, with a connoisseur's glance at Hertha, " and not so ugly either ; though she is just now in a bad humor ; she might let one talk to her when she is in a better temper." Many gentlemen and ladies were now on deck, and the seats were all occupied. The elderly gentleman seated himself by Hertha, smoked and spat. After he had continued to do this for some time, he said a few words to her in an under-tone. She made no reply; again he spoke, and this time Hertha rose and went to another part of the deck. But every place was occupied, and she remained standing for a moment as if hesitating. A young man, with a pair of earnest, intellectual eyes, rose and offered her his seat. She accepted it gratefully. It was close to an elderly lady, who quickly began to talk to Hertha, and when a few monosyllabic words gave her the hope of being hstened to, she proceeded to give an account of her family, the purpose of her journey, her course of life, her state of health, and all her confinements. She also inquired if " the lady" were married or unmarried ; desired to know her name, and informed her that her own name was Tallquist. Hertha's young protector went below deck, but soon re- turned, with a httle printed tract in his hand, which, with a pohte and kind expression, he offered her. The tall gentle- man now stood quite near Hertha, blowing great puffs froni his cigar. The younger stayed also near her, but without a cigar, and, while he seemed wholly occupied in looking at the scenery through his glass, he thrust himself between Hertha and her persecutor. She felt that she had a protectior near her, and a sense of gratitude was, therefore, the first feeling which she expejienced, through the four-and-twenty hom's, which was not 'painful to her. Apparently listening, but, in reality, perfectly deaf to the old lady's account of her life, she 242 HEBTHA. sat with her eyes riveted upon the tract which she held in her hand. By degrees some words attracted her eye, and she read as follows, in Danish : " To he agonised as I am, and still may he, is certainly what no one, humanly speakiag, can call desirable ; neverthe- less, it may he that which, in a much higher state, I mAy thank God for as the greatest benefit. To be agonised and brought low, .even for a noble cause, is, I can very weU understand, something which one, humanly speaking, cannot desire, something which one would wish to avoid at almost any price, if, by experience, one were not exalted by the thought, that in a far higher point of view, this extreme of suffering may be regarded as the greatest benefit." Hertha turned the page and continued to read.: "Ajpril 11. In torments which a human being has seldom survived; in agonies of mind of eight days' endurance, which were enough to deprive the mind of reason, I am yet sufficiently " ]\([y wishes have often been for de^th, my longings for the grave! my desire that my wishes and my longings might be fulfilled. Yes, O God ! if thou wert not Almighty ; if thou couldst not ail-powerfully compel; if thou wert not love which could move irresistibly ; on no other condition, at no other price could I be induced to choose the life which is mine, again to be embittered by its unavoidable consequences, the effect which mankiud pi'oduces upon me. " Yet thy love, O God ! prompts the thought of daring to love thee, inspires n^e upder the possibility of being all- powerfuUy compelled — ■jojrfttlly and gratefully to desire to become that which is the consequence of being loved by thee and of loving thee ; a sacrifice offered for a race to whom the ideal is a foolishness, a nothing, to whom the earthly, thS temporal, are the only reaJ." Hertha did not inquire by whom this heart-rending con- fession was made ;* but she felt that a combatiug and suffering * S. Kirkegaard, in his last ■" Moment." THE JOtJKNEY. 243 heart thiiobbed here in muson ■with her own, embittered, bleed- ing, loving, and still, though as in the midst of the flames, seek- ing to lay hold upon God ; and she felt less soUtary in the world. When the steam-boat reached the looks of TroUhatta and the company on board landed, as is usual, to visit the fall, Hertha mechanically accompanied them. Before long, however, it seemed to her intolerable to make one of the merry, chattering groups of people, and she dropped behind them aU. As she was thus walking solitarily along the footpath, through the wood, she observed that some one was following her ; presently he had overtaken and joined hfir^ and Hertha recognised her persecutor of the morning, who now, with an jn(juisitive and bold glance, srsiged her hand, as he said : " Why are you walking here by yourself; you who, never- theless, seem so charming ?" Hertha snatched away her hand, and looked at the speaker with a glance which made him say ; " Bless me ! there's no great harm, done ; and surely one Biay speak to a girl without her— ^ — " Hertha looked round impatiently for some of her travelling companions, and just at that moment saw Mrs. TaUquist coming after her, puffing and out of breath, calling : " Listen, ManiseU ! MamseU ! How many locks are there between here and Stockholm? Tallquist and I have laid a wager about it ; but I don't know precisely whether I am right ; I want to hear what others know about it, and TaU- quist is in full chase after me." " I really cannot teU you," replied Hertha, " but we can very soon find out," added she, anxious to have Mrs, Tall- quist's company until she fell in with the remainder of the party; and Mrs. TaUquist had so great a desire to com- municate one thing and another to her, that she had no need of asking for her company, especially as Mr. TaUquist now overtook them, stUl more out of breath, and stiU more pantingly than his wife, but by no means in so good a humor because of her unexpected, escapade after Hertha. 244 HBETHA. " I only wanted to ask about the locks,'? said Mrs. Tallquist, " and to know which of us was right." " The devil take the looks !" growled Mr. Tallquist. The Tallquists, Hertha, and her unbidden fellow-traveller, soon reached the rest of the company now assembled on the heights above the Hell-falls, and just about to contiQue their ■waj to the lower looks at Iker. When at this latter place the company again went on board to continue their journey, Hertha was not with them. The wild thundering falls, the sohtary region, the wood-covered mountains around them, the contest between the giant powers of nature and the strong symbohc language in which they seemed to address her, attracted her to them with a congenial power. It seemed good to her to rest here and get rid of the people ; to get rid of the familiarity of me intrusive gentleman and the communications of Mrs. Tallquist. When the steamer burst forward through the looks of TroUhatta on its way into the beautiful river, Hertha was sit- ting alone on Gull, or Gold Island, with the thundering falls roaring around her, • and the words of Kirkegaard in her hand. The deafening thunder of the fall seemed to her a lullaby which would hush to sleep the wild combat in her breast, and for the moment it did so. When evening came, and with it darkness, she went to the Inn, and ordered and obtained for herself a room. She passed a sleepless night. With the first flush of dawn she went out. She wandered from the falls of Toppo and Gullo, through the wood, and over the rocks, down to the HeU-fall. She stopped for a moment at the Giant's cauldrons in the primeval rock, only to recommence her wandering immediately, from the necessity of allaying the torture of the soul by the weariness of the body, and to gain a moment's forgetfulness of life and suffering — a moment's sleep. But aU the more seemed darkness and the horrors of darkness to en- compass her soul. Energetic natures are able to sufier a great deal without being crushed or subdued ; nevertheless, there is a state in which they have great difficulty in sustaining them- THB JOUBNET. 245 selves. It is that in Virhich, sleep deserts them and gives them up a prey to dark phantoms which take possession of their souls. Sleeplessness, which converts the four-and-twenty hours into one unbroken day, and compels the dry, hot eyes to stare unchangingly at one single dark point, is the old hag who felled Thor to the ground after he had already wrestled victoriously with gods and giants. Suffering, in its extremest form, causes to us the loss of our higher consciousness, our light and our strength. K any one . had asked 'the restless wanderer by the fall of TroUhatta, at this time, what she was seeking for, she might have replied — "Myself!" The words of Kirkegaard no longer consoled her. , The spirit which spoke to her in them was too much absorbed by the combat, had not yet passed victoriously through it. In the dark tumultuous state oif mind in which she then was, she threw the printed tract into the foaming waters. It whirled round for a moment, sank, and vanished fi-om sight. How beautiful to sink thus, to vanish iu the cool depths, and forget, and rest ; — the thundering, whirling waters would be heard there no longer ! , " Yngve ! Yngve ! How is it possible !" was the dark unceasing thought in Hertha's soul, which lay there as the coil of a serpent. And truth and love, abhorrence and scorn, alternately attempted to unfold it — ^in vain. Her thoughts began to be confused, and she dreaded insanity. There stands on GuU Island a solitary blackened pine-tree, "which with its crown of wild, distorted branches, hangs over the abyss,, as if it would tumble into it, a strange demoniac figure, which calls forth dark thoughts, and seems to be the offspring of such. Did it spring up in the foot-prints of the beautiful giant-bride who once stood there, and hurled herself into the abyss to escape the misery of life ? The dark figure riveted Hertha's gaze with giant power. It pointed into the abyss below, and seemed to say, " Down, there ! down there !" It was a moment when everything appeared dark to her. But there came a caressing breeze and fanned her burning temples, and made % murmur among ^46 HBEtHA. the pine-trees of t&e rock. Hertha sefeiHecl to feel the catesses of her young sisters, and to heal* their words : " Do not forsake us !" And she turned away from the tempting falls, determined to make eyery posi:ble effort to gain a few hours' sleep, and hj that means to clear her mind. She obtained for herself a Soporific draught from the medical man at TroUhatta ; hut it afforded her no repose, only a trance fuU of fever-phantasies. She was in a ohtirch at the houf of midnight ; the full moon shining solfelnnly amid dark, threatening clouds, was visible through the chancel window. Silent human figures sate like shadows in the chancel, and at the farther end stood, aga,inst a dark background, a lofty, golden crucifix, which shed a pale gleam of light throngh the chaiicel. ■the organ pealed, and a voice sang — " Lamb of God, which takest away the sins of the world !" With that, the shadow-like forms advanced td the altar and knelt there. Hertha, impelled irresistibly, accompanied theto, and partook of "the* body and blood of. Christ," with the rest. , ^ She then turned to leave the 6hurch and 'went to Tngve ; she saw him lying in his morning slumber, handsome and smiling, on his bed. But she awoke him, and said to him with sorrowful earnestness : " Yngve ! thou hast lied before heaven and before me, and thou must now die. But I have Sanctified my lips by the blood which can make thee pure, and I am come to sanctify thee !" And she bent over him and kiSSed him. With that Yngve's red Hps grew pale, and a marble rigidity crept over his features and his limbs. He gazed at her ^th a reproach- ful and yet affectionate gaze, until it was set as in stone. She closed his eyeHds, and he was dead, and with him. all her joy in life. , THE JOUENET. 247 She saw anothel- world, a wonderful kingdom of death and silence. There was a great city with gates and streets and a market, but of graves, and monuments hewn in stone. Not a tree, not a flower, not a blade of grass was to be seen among them. A starless, steel-grey sky expanded itself over the graves, over the city of the dead, which seemed to ex- pand into infinitude, over the" whole earth. Deep twilight rested there, and not a sound, not a tone of life was heard, except a soft soughing which Sometimes raised itself, then sank and died away Uke deep beseeching sighs. When Hertha's eye became accustomed to the deep twilight which prevailed, she saV human forms by many of the monuments which lAy thet6 in prayer, and again and again laid their lips to the walls of the graves. They seemed in the mean time to be expecting something. Hertha also stood by a monument, a single column, which she embraced with her arms and held claSped to her breast, and She very well knew who lay below, ahd why her warm heart throbbed against the hai-d stone. Thus pkSsed on many, many years, and many of the supplicating ones by t^e graves grew weary and left their posts, to return to the cities and the pleasures of life. But Hertha did not grow weary, but stood faithfully with her warm heart beating against the hard granite stone, wishing for the moment when they who are in the graves shall hear the voice of God. Suddenly a light blazed in the east, and a strong voice cried aloud, " The moment is come !" and the earth trembled and the graves opened. The column which Hertha embraced moved, and she felt that a heart was throbbing against her heart. She held Yngve in her arms, and he opened his eyes ; but oh, what a gloomy earnestness in his look as he said — " Wby hast thou woke me — only to lead me to judgment ?" Hertha replied : " I have won thee from judgment, - Yngve, won thee, by watching and many prayers. Only canst 'thou love me ?' Remember our bond, and speak the truth !" Tngve's eyes turned aWay from hers and gazed in another 248 1 HEETHA. direction, at a shadowy form which stood near, as if waitmg for him, and which Tbore the features of AmaJ,ia. Hertha at this felt her heart contracted by an unspeakable pain, and soon she again saw herself alone, wandering like a shadow among the graves in the kingdom of the dead. Such, and many more, were the delirious dreams amid which -Hejtha's soul sought for some point upon which it could rest. One morning, after a dream kindred to the foregoing, tshe rose and wandered into the country, in a direction opposite to the fall, the thunder of which now began to be a torment to her. She heard the bells ringing for church, and saw the country people going churchward in their holiday attire, whence she perceived that it was Sunday. She followed them to a httle country church, at the outskirts of the forest. It was a simple, but .tastefully bmlt stone church, with a spacious chancel, at the far end of which stood a tall, gilded crucifix, which shone out brightly from the dark background. It resembled that which she had seen in, her dream. She stood stUl. The peasants, in the costume of the country, filled the church. The clergyman went to the altar. Hertha could not foUow every, word which he said, she merely under- stood that he invited all to come to a holy — a consolatory communion. And when the hymn was sung, " O Lamb of God," and the congregation rose and advanced to the altarj Hertha accompanied them, and bowed her weary head at the foot of the cross^ The peacefulness of the church, the mystical words which were uttered by the priest, the mild, earnest countenances which surrounded her, among which many were elderly, some blind, the sight of the cross, the thought of him whose type it was, all operated forcibly on Hertha's soul ; and when the clergy- . nian approached her and looked at her with an astonished and Tiesitating glance, which she returned by an expression of so much suffering and so earnest a desire, he could not refuse her the holy Communion, to which, however, according to the Swedish ecclesiastical laws, she was not entitled, as her name THE JOUENET. 249 had not been announced for' that purpose, nor had she been present at confession. But he involuntarily obeyed the inspi- ration of the moment, certain that he had now before him a human being who needed the means of gi'aoe. Hertha receiv- ed them, bowed her head, and — her tears flowed apace. A lofty and glorious form stepped between her and the beloved but guilty man, who caused her anguish ; stepped between her and the whole world, which now vanishedN from before her eyes. At His heart, at His feet, she laid herself down, her life, her sorrow, her beloved, his sin ; his and her own life, everything, in deep and perfect resignation, and she felt herself to be saved. Like the fainting wanderer of the desert, she laid herself down at the margin of the fresh foun- tain, and drank, in new hfe. Silent festival ! Who can teU the hidden miracles of salva- tion which, ever since the hour of thy institution, thou hast performed, and stiU performest. The forms of religion may vary, churches become antiquated and changed, generations come and go, but thou, silent, mystical festival, still remainest, always the same, gathering together the scattered flocks, feed- ing the souls with the same body and the same blood ; and all the mysteries of existence centre in thee and beam forth from thee. Silent, sacred festival, communion oT all sects, mystical bond of soul with soul and of all with the One ; preserver of the life of love, in a world which is poor in love, yet which requireth love ; preserver of hope ; nurse of the community of heaven, so long as thou art administered in the church, or thence sent out to the chambers of the suflfering, so long still lives therein the life and power of Christ ; and if I, as well as many others, look with longing towards a Church of the fu- ture more true and more active than that which now, in our north, rules the consciences of men, it is because they then may more generally, more inwardly, come to thee and partake of thy fiilness, sUent, holy festival, fountain of life ! When Hertha wandered back through the soughing pine- forest towards the fall, she felt that everything was not lost, that On^ remained immoveable, firm, and steadfast ; one whom she 11* 250 SlIE'rHA. might love and look up t6, afld attach herself to with aU hef soul and all her might — -the ShepheTd and the Friend of erery soul. The falling waters, the roaring storm, all the disquiet of human life, they had their tiflie and their termination, but He remained for ever. They were the means, not the end, because JBe was there, and she had been made cognisant of his presence, his^life. In the world waS strife^ b«tin'Sun she could have peace, that she clearly felt. A cahn, lofty, loveftd resignation possessed her soul, together with a grateful jtty over the change which she experienced, and the experience which -was her portion. Such an experience iS of inestimsbble worth for the Whole of life, and gives to the soul a certaidty of the being of God, and of his immediate relationship to het, Which nothing is ever- more able to shake. And either He lifts the soul Up td his heart and lets her taste of the joy which no- tongue can express, or bends her to the earth, as the winds the reeds of the shore. So that she is satisfied that He is With her and that He is love. In the deep-' est winter's night this is her light. Such were Hertha's thoughts as she went homeWard through the solitary Wood, and in that light which now shone into her Soul all the dark enigtttas of Efe seemed cleared up. Even the confused, distorted image of Yngve became tratSfigiired. Was it not the doctrine which she heard from his lips, and which now she comprehended with a new feeling of its truth? Could he indeed be false-^be a liar ? Must not all be a lie rather than this be true ? Hertha came hastily to the determination to put the question to himself, and let the truth be jtidge be- tween them. First, however, she must see Rudolph. She now felt herself in a condition to benefit him ; and again serene and determined, she resolved on the followiflg day to continue her journey to Copenhagen. She merely required a night's rest. It was now the Seventh night since she had dept. This night she slept deeply and soundly. But the struggle • of the soul re-acted on the body, and she awoke in the morn- ing with a terrible Eeadaehe, She* sent for the medieal man THE JOUENEY. 25 1 of the place^ and asked from him a copious bloijd-letting. It was with a sort of hitter pleasure that She watched the blood flow until she nearly fainted. Could she but, with the whole of her blood, have purchased Tngve's freedom from blame ! After the blood-letting and a sedative draught, Hertha remain- ed lying comparatively free from pain. Thus she lay for the whole day with her eyes closed, and only now and then a tear which slowly forced its way through her dark eye-lashes down her pale cheeks, made known the silent sorrow of her soul. Thus was she still lying in the evening, when she heard the door open and some one softly enter the room ; but in the behef that it was one of the fiaaid-servants of the house, who had promised to look after her, she continued to lie stiU with her eyes closed. She then felt a warm kiss impressed upon her hand, which waS at the same tirne bathed with tears. Her- tha opened her eyeSj and beheld a lovely young girl on her knees, hf het bed, watching her with an expression of the most heartfelt love : " Oh, pasdou me ! pardon me !" besought at the same time the sweet voice of Eva Du^a, " and don't send me away. I heard that some one, who appeared very ill and out of spirits, lay here, and I wished to know if I could be of any service to her, because I myself also am sorrowftd and dck at heart. But now that I recognise you I cannot leave you. Oh, let me remain with you till yon are well again. Let me be hke a sister to you, or a servant. Who knows, perhaps the insigni- ficant and the weak may be of some little service to the strong. That would be so agreeable to me. I will be so silent,^o very silent ; but I cannot leave you. It will do me more good to be with you than anything else." •" How did you come here ? " asked Hertha,- as she caress- ingly laid her hand on the young girl's neck. "With my parents," replied Eva; "we are on our way to Copenhagen, where my father has business, and they have allowed me and my sister Marie to accompany them, to divert my mind and to enliven me, as they say. Fpr I have been, and stiU am, vety uneasy in my mind ever since — ^but I will 252 HEETHA. tell you aU about that afterwards 5 if I only may remajn with you. You will dissipate the uncertainty of my mind ; you will enable me to become clear as regards myself and what I ought to do ; no one can do this if you cannot. Oh, let me stay with you ! I would give up everything in Copenhagen, if I might only remain here by your bedside. Sister Marie can go with my parents to Copenhagen." " Ask your mother to let me speak with her," said Her- tha ; and Eva,' who heard a consent in the words, kissed Hertha's hand passionately, and hastened to her mother. It was soon arranged between Mrs. Dufva and Hertha, that Eva should remain with the latter until she, was sufficiently recovered to be able to cross the Sound, when Eva should accompany her and join her parents in Copenhagen. Hertha had told Mrs. Dufva of her intentions of visiting an invahd relative in that city; and Hertha, ialthough not properly belonging to the circle of their acquaintance, was universally so highly esteemed and respected, that Mrs. Dufva, without demur or deliberation, left Eva under her protection. Eva Dufva was overjoyed at this arrangement. She was at that age when it is so common for warm-hearted girls to form enthusiastic attachments to persons of their own sex, particu- larly when these are distinguished by a force of character in which they themselves are deficient, and Eva Dufva had long since felt that attraction towards Hertha which the weak climbing plant feels ^towards the strong tree, around whose bole it is necessary to entwine itself in order to raise itself to the light. The little chamber, by the fall of TroUhatta, which during thfe foregoing four-and-twenty hours had witnessed such gloomy suffering, exhibited this evening a pleasaiit picture. It was the pale invalid, who, now evidently convalescent, was sitting raised up in bed, with her rich golden hair thrown back from her temples, ^nd falling in unrestrained masses over the snowy pillows, whilst her eyes, still weak from the effect of fever, rested with motherly affection on the young girl who, kneeling by her bed,, held her hand between both hers, now THE JOUENET. 253 pressing it to . her lips, now laying it against her burning cheeks, whilst she poured out her overflowing heart. Eva related how she, in consequence of Mr. Von Tackjern's behavior at the fire, felt the repugnance which she had ajways entertained tpwards a marriage with him so increase, that the thought of it became intolerable to her ; and how she had prevailed upon her parents to consent to the engagement between them being broken off. In the meantime, the circum- stances of the family, in consequence of the fire and other losses, became greatly embarrassed. She saw the distress of her parents, and their evident wish that the engagement between their daughter and the wealthy Mr. Von Tackjern should be renewed. He, on his part, had expressed his willingness ; he considered her having broken their betrothal as merely a usual " woman's whim," which he was wilUng to forgive, and proposed that the marriage should at once take place, to obviate the necessity of a second betrothal. " And now I know what lies before me," continued Eva ; " after this journey, which is to ' dissipate my crotchets,' they win urge me to make an end of the thing. My parents will say that ' I can do as I like ; that they do not wish to persuade me ; ' but they will look anxious ; I shall read in their looks and their expression what they wish for ; I shall see how easy I might make theirs and. my sisters' future by my marriage ; so that I should be able to please everybody, and make every- body happy except — ^myself. But is it fight in me to regard only my own happiness ? To disappoint every one 'just' for the sake of my own pleasure ? ' Is not that wrong and egor tistical ? Ah ! I have, gone from church to church that I might meet with counsel and light ; but tljey have preached about submission and obedience, which, nevertheless, my heart rebelled against, because I do not know whether, in this case, it is the wiU of God. If I could only know it ! I have prayed to God for light, early and late, and yet — and yet no light has come into my poor mind, and it has put me out of heart, and — sometimes I have felt indifferent about myself and e^verything else in the world, so that I could have thrown 254 HBETHA. myself away, seeing that God did not trouble himself about me. Ah J that was, after all, a sinftil thought, for he has indeed led me hither to yOu, and you, 1 inow, will teach and enlighten me.'* Hertha had allowed the young girl to pour out her whole heart ; she thefi said : , " Have you toot sometimes thought that you might become a. mother in this marriage ? " " No," replied Eva ; " at least I have not liked to dwell on the thought. Hu ! no ! " "It is, nevertheless, the only one which could give you light on your Way," said Hertha. " If you would choose a father as guide and counsellor for your child, would you choose Mr. Von Taokjem ? " * " No ! " said Eva with decision. " No : that I never would ! " "Do you think that he might become different; that he might be changed thf dugb your influence ? " " Ah ! " sighed Eva, " that is what people have said to me, but I do not believe it. He is so much older — so much more -worldly-wise — so much stronger of will than I am. I should never have courage to be entirely myself with him ; to ask anything from him. I should, if united with him, become Itess candid, less cheerful than I am now. I fancy even that 1 might become cunning with him ; because I am afraid of him. I Would not like to depend upoil him. ; not be his son or his daughter ! " « " Then do not become his wife," said Hertha with gi'eat decision, as she laid her hand on the young girl's head, " otherwise you will sin against God and against the vocation of tnother. Which He might give you, to watch over the well- being of the children which might be born of this marriage. Ah, Eva ! I wonder every day how people in a general way, whether in or out of mariiage, can so thoughtlessly bring into ejdstence — that great, bitter, awful existence, of which heaven or hell is the point of exit — children, human beings, with imniortal souls, which are capable of so much suffering, so much despair, and which one day toiay' reproach the author of their THB JOUENBT, 255 being for ha-mg called them into existence ! It is especially to the maternal heart of the -^^roman that the Creator has intrusted the responsibility and the care of the children to which she inay give birth ; and yet how seldoni does she reflect on this when she is about to give herSelf to a husband ! Eva ! this is my last wotd to you on this subject — ^never niarry a man whose daughter you would not like to be ! " " Hertha! " exclaimed Eva, "fcM haVfe lifted a stone from my heart ; yott have Removed the bandage fiotsi my eyes, and I now see everything clearly !■ Oh, you are right ! you are right ! and it is God who has led me to you, because But, Hertha, do not abandon me after this, for I shall stand in need of your support and your advice. My parents are kiQd — very kind. But they fancy that a girl must either marry or stop at home, occupied by her pretty ' ladies-work,' and that she ought not to undertake anything but the care of her toilet or making calls ; and that has never been sufficient for me, and it WiU become less sufficing after this. There are many of us at home ; we are not all needed there, and I must now, of necessity, leave home for a time. If I could only undertake something which 'Would be helpful to my parents and my sisters ! — ^but then I am so ignorant ; know a little of many things superficially, but nothing thoroughly. Nevertheless, I would so willingly work — ^work really hard at anything — ^if I could only reap some benefit by it, and come out of that state of uncertainty and incompleteness which is at present the state of my mind and the state of my home-life. I go about, as it were, in twilight : I don't know what I am, nor what I inay be. I am seeking for myself. I am like a field lying fallow, but which might become fruitful by the hand of the cultivator." The longer Eva continued thus to speak, the more Hertha's glance beamed on the young girl ; she raised her head, assumed once more the expression of self-consciousness, power, .' and resolve which were peculiar to her, and her earnest gaze penetrated with tender inquiry into the young girl's soul which had thus revealed itself to her. 256 HBETHA. , "I understaiid you," she said, " and what you say rejoices me. For us women a great deal of the field of life lies fallow, and men would prevent us from bringing it up into cultiva- tion. But a clear and steadfast will is able to break through many impediments. Do you feel in your soul any longings after a larger, more general activity, in any particular direc- tion ?" " Ho, I do not," replied Eva. " I dread publicity, and fear my own incapacity to work independently. But I should be ^lad to devote my small activity, my small ability in life, to some object which I felt to be great and noble, worthy of living and laboring for. And I would gladly clasp a poor chUd to my heart, and live and labor for it. That would make me happy. I should not be afraid of poverty with that chUd.* I should be able to provide a frugal living for it, and for myself. That has been and is my dearest dream for the future. But first I will become a better, clearer, stronger human being than I now am, and therefore let me love you, see you, come to you sometimes, look up to you. It is so beautifiil, so glorious, to be able to look up, love, admire I" "Ah! do not look up to a fellow-creature, your equal!" said Hertha, with a deep and sorrowfiil earnestness. " Tou will, in that case, find yourself deceived ; look up to God alone ! This cannot be too often insisted upon ; human beings are weak ; the best are imperfect, and true, bitterly true, is our old proverb, ' Trust not in that which another holds for you !" There was such a sad earnestness in Hertha's expresKion, whilst she continued to warn Eva of too much trust in or dependence on another, that Eva was profoundly impressed by it. But she said, still caressingly : " Yon will really trust in me and my attachment to you. I know that I could die for you. They who love you once, must lov,e you for ever, and become more earnest and better iii consequence. I do not wish, — ^I am not worthy to know what is the reason of your thinking so ill of mankind ; but certainly you have suffered, and suffering darkens the mindj, THE JOUENEY. 257 and causes it, perhaps, not always to judge correctly. Forgive me for venturing to talk thus to you, hut — I am -so very found of you, and it grieves me so sadly that you should feel thus." And Eva covered Hertha's hand with her kisses and her tears. In the old Saga of Gudrum, who sate by the corpse of Sigurd, but couM not weep like other women, because she " will merely die," it is said how^ 'the noble Earl-daughters, Gold-ornamented, Sate before Gudrun; Each one related Her bitterest sorrow. That which the sorest Her heart had afflicted. At length the mourner was so &r consoled, that she burst into tears and song. Thus is individual sorrow alleviated by sympathy for another. Thus also, now were the sufferings of the two young women alleviated by the deep sympathy which each felt for the other. Soon might Eva be seen, with a mind much cahner than of late, gracefully and silently busied, and setting out a little supper for Hertha, and seeming to forget herself in serving her ; whilst Hertha allowed herself, with a quiet resignation, to be waited upon, and even received with a snule, bread and a glass of milk from her hand. And when, later in the evening, Eva read aloud to her, Hertha fixed her eyes on the innocent countenance of the charming girl, as it was lit up by the lamplight,^ and sank into a dun dream about faith and love upon earth. During this, she feU into a calm sleep ; and after Eva had continued to read for a good half-hour, in order to deepen her sleep still more, she made herself a little bed at the foot of Hertha's, and rested thei-e better than she had done for a long time — ^the good young girl ! 258 HEETHA. The following day Hertha felt herself very much tetter. She wrote home to her father and sisters, fixing the day- for her return, and the day following, with Eva Dvtha crossed the Kattegatt to Copenhagen, where she restored the young girl tX> her family — not without having formed a close compact with her for the future — and then went to seek out Rudolph. Well was it that she came to him at this moment ! The unfortunate young man, pursued by unspeakable mental disquiet, by the horrible memories of the night of the fire, which seemed more and more strongly to rise up in his soul, was just about to leave the house into which he had been, received, and to wander out into the world, without any other object than that of flying froifi himself. Hertha did not dissuade him from this purpose; on the contrary, she fetrengthehed him in his intentions of taking a long pedestrian journey, and in concert with the relative who had received hkn und6r his protection, laid "out for him the route of such a joumeyj and furnished him with letters which would enable him to find friends and' protectors at various places oil his way, in case he needed th'em. This was good for the unhappy yotiilg man ; but oh, how much more so was her presence, her strengthening, consolatory words, and the thought that she had come to Copenhagen merely for his sake ; that he was something to her ; that she had an interest about him. Joy and gratitude for this made- him as a child in her hands. She, on her part, Strengthened by the baptism through which she had so lately passed, talked to the poor son of the twihght with qtiite another wisdom and quite another power thail formerly, comforting and strengthening him at the same time. ' When Hertha had, with motherly care, provided the suita- ble equipment of Rudolph for his journey ; after she had seen him, with his knapsack on his back, weeping but still happy, happy by her blessitig, set out on his sohtary way with his pilgrim-staff in his hand, she, without a single glimpse at the glorious works of art which are possessed by this northern THE JOtTKNIiT. 259 Alihens, turned her face towards her own country and her own home. Once more there she was received with unspeakable joy by her young sisters, whose tears and endearments made her feel what she was to them. Her father received her with dark and stern looks, but without- saying a word, although within himself he cursed and swore at woman's emancipation. But he felt for his eldest daughter a high esteem mingled with fear. He needed her, and was afraid of driving her away. Aunt Nella, who was utterly confounded and perplexed hy Hertha's inexpUcable journey- and return, said a good deal about " Hertha's wild ideas," and muttered still more about their probable deplorable result, whilst she occupied herself with the interesting tangled skeins which she was getting ready for a great weaving which was to be done in the femSy; The young sisters had a great deal to say about Tngve Nordin; how he had come to KuUen the very day that Hertha set off; how he was extremely anlloyed by hearing of her sudden absienoe, and made many anxious inquiries about her, to which they could only give sorrowful and unsatis'- faetory answers. He had since then been there many times to learn -if there were any tidings of her, and, finally, he had left a note for her. In this Hertha found only these Words : " Hertha, what is the meaning of this ? I have a right to demand an explanation. Tngve." Why did Hertha press these words with a convulsive energy to her heart? It was because their frank Spirit, challenging as it were her suspicion, conveyed to her soul, as with the speed of lightning, the conviction that they were written by an innocent and injured person, by one who in the candor of innocence demanded satisfarction. Oh, that it might be so — that she had been mistaken ! But how was it possible, credible ? — ^Dark enigma, how can it be solved ? 50 HEETHA. ST. BRITA'S SUMMER. N'oT enchanting, as the N"orth American Indian-sumitier, at yet tender, charming, and heautiful, is that time in (v^eden which we call St. Brigitta's smnmer, or " the Britt- immer." It commences at the same time as the American S;er-summer, hut it closes much earlier ; its life is like a eautifnl smUe, which for a moment iUumlues a gloomy coun- mance. Already are housed the harvests of our fields, and night- osts and heavy rains, sometimes snow-flakes, have chased (vay the beauty of the meadows and the leafy trees ; flowers ave drooped their heads, and leaves become withered; hen, at the commencement of October, occurs a time of right sunshine and calm weather ; when, the Swedish land- sape all at once presents a beaming autumnal splendor, with s many-colored leafage, ..its brilliant bunches of fruit, the ild-service, and the mountain-ash ; its gorgeous sun-flowers, s whortle-berries in the heath, and'its beautiful birds, circlmg bout in the tree-tops, and, like the novice, putting on their lost glorious* attire, just at the moment when they -are about ) takc'Ieave of the beauty of life, and go into their wintry raves. The northern saint, who sename-day occurs at this season, ad whose inward warmth was such that she, during the ;verest winter, lay upon the earthen floor of the unwarmed mvent-ceU of WadstenaC, and was not conscious of cold, was ;arcely less remarkable than is this summer in the midsfoof le chill, autunmal life of Ifovember. The wild-service and rowan-trees which grew round the arsonage of Solberga, were bright with crimson bunches of ST. BEITA'S SUMMBE. 261 fruit, and flocks of gay silk-tails were circling around them, in the brilliant sunshine of a fine morning in the Britt-summer. The parsonage itselfj bright and clean as hands could make it, had altogether a holiday appearance, just as if its inhabit- ants were preparing for a festival. Fresh-gathered juniper twigs were strewn on the floor of the entrance and dining- room ; the sun shone gaily through the bright window-panes upon the white tables and fresh flowers. The pastor's wife had an incredible amount of things to do, she had set all her maid-servants to work, and might be seen herself, with her great bunch of keys, going from garret to cellar, from larder to dairy, from one press to another in the house, looking out table linen and silver and china. Just at the very timcwhen she was absorbed in the linen- press, in the agonies of choosing among several table-cloths, between the large rose and the httle rose, the traveller and the star-patterns, the pastor came into the room and ex- claimed : , " Well, my little old woman, it is no use trying to have a moment's conversation with you to-day, is it ? It is really terrible to think what a great deal you have to do, and how much trouble these 'schemes and machinations,' as Mrs. tJggla would call them, cause you." " What's that ?" said good little Mrs. Dahl, cheei-ftilly, " trouble ! Don't yon know that such trouble as this is my greatest dehght, especially when it is for the benefit of the Infant School ? And the object, and the occupation which it gives — may God bless them ! They are my life and . my pleasure, and without them I should not like to live. To-day I have been bustling about in the house like a flame of fire, ever since four o'clock this morniug, and everything to-day has gone on so well, and fallen out as I wanted it, just as if it were under the control of some good angel. The dough has risen so beautifully that it is quite a pleasure to see it ; and — you don't know what a nice present I have had this morning !" "I guess — a haunch of venison !" " A haimch of venison ? You are not very far wrong ! 26^ HBETHA. something quite as good as that : three haresand a ■woodcock! Yon know we must cook them for tlie feast." " Three hares 1 a leap "for every hare, ajad a kisa for the Bpoodcock!" exclaimed the pastor, delighted; "I thought [ smelt something imcommonly good in the kitchen. 'B/p.t, larkye now, oould we not give the sexton's family one of these, lares ?" " That we'll see ia the morning, father dear, that is to say, f there happens to he a hare left after our evening-feast. JTou must bear ia min4 that we shall have aboxjt thii-ty people, ^ut, as for that, we might ask the sextons to come apd eat a bit of the roapt ; and — (I think I'll take the little rose ; it's true that it is somewhat worn, but nobody will see it by sandle-Ught), and the old women in tlie poor-house shall each base her loaf for Sunday." " You, are an excellent woman, and a, rare housewife," said- the. pastor, with all hia heart. " Ah 1 there is indeed some skill required in being a house- wife, with no more means thaa I have. Do you know, my sld fellow, that I hav^ actually thaaked God t)m. very day:' because I was npt rich, for in that case I should not know and feel as I do now, what a pleasure there is in planning, and scheming, and working, so that one's small means may be sufficient for all, and a little to spare I And when I have labored the'whole week, and then at the end find that I have 1 little over, which I can give away, without detriment to the family, to some poor body or other, is it not a pleasant feeling ? It' is, indeed ! Besides, there is a fresh life both for body and soul in these occupations which the rich never can Bxperience. And when I, during the day, go about and look nto the ferm-yard, or the larder, or the garden ; and thence Dver the fields, an^ see how green they are growing, or how ;he harvest ripens, or up to the sky, and see that it is brighlr- 18 to-day, or that blue openings through the clouds are jlaneing towards me like Mendly eyes, then I think that the jarth is so beautiftd, God so good, and life so glorious, that I im — ready to cry !" ST. BEITA'S SUMMEE. 263 " Cry ?" said the pastor, astonislied, " why cry ?" "Why, for this reason, because I have not anything or any one about me that could feel as I do ; for thig reason, that I am — childless ! Think if I had eight or nin,e daughters, or at ieast half-a-dozen, to bustle about with, to teach how to work and to enjoy, as I d&, how amusing it would be for them and for me ! Aiid for me, who am jupt now beginning to grow old, and really have need of some one in the house in whom I can trust, because servant-girls are but servant-girls, and one cannot leave theni to themselves. I sometimes think that I certainly shall have daughters in heaven, seeing that that happiness has been denied to me on earth." " But in heaven, my; gld woman, people bustle about neither with work, nor servant-:paids, but they ^" " Nay, my dear fellow," interrupted she, " don't talk to me about your heaven, in which people are either to stand or sit with paJjns in their hands, and sing psalms both day and night, and do nothing else besides ! Because I tell you that ioto such a heaven I do not wisji to go, even though you yourself were there. I should not continue long sittiog there with pahns in my hands, and I am very certain, too, that our Lord would not desire such an unnecessary thing, either of me or anybody else ! No, to work, to strive, to go ever onward, tO'have much to do, and much to care for, that must I have there, as well as here, if I am to thrive at aU. And don't you tell me that our Lord has no other ways, of employing me and everybody, else who wishes to serve hipi, than by sitting with pahns in their hands, and singing psialms, IJe has enough in his great household, both l9,rders and gardens, to look after — they may be spiritual, such as Swedenborg talks of-^nd poor souls who need to be fed from them. I desire nothing better than to serve our Lord, but he must set me tp some real work, and not to hold palms in my hands. And if he is as good as I believe him to be, he wiU give me some daughters to educate and teach as his maid-servants, for then first will l^he kingdom of heaven become a true heaven to me ! — (No, after aU, I'U take the large rose, the little rose ha^ too many holes in it !)" 264 HBETHA. " liisten, mother," said the pastor, " you talk as often about ;hese daughters as about the kingdom of heaven. Why ihould we not have such on earth, if we can ? We can afford t, and We have room enough since we came here, and I am luite convinced that it would be amusing and good for us {o lave a couple of young girls in the family, whom we could >ecome attached to, and who would attach themselves to us. Perhaps our Lord has denied us any children of bur own in )rder that we might be aU the more willing to adopt those of )thers, who do not need thera. If you like, let us, the sooner ;he better, take one or two daughters into the house." The pastor's wife now remained sitting with the large rose- jattemed table-cloth on her knee, looking at her husband with m expression which evidently showed that his words had gone ;o her heart. At length, she said : " K you only knew how otten ± nave thought of the very same thing ! But, hitherto, I have not seen any young girls (vhom I would really with my whole heart wish to call mine, md take into my house. But now I actually do know a 30uple of young sisters to whom I feel that I really could become as a mother, and whom you, of a certainty, would ilso become fond of." i " Who are they ? who are they ? I'U go dlreotly and hunt them up." "They are Eva Dufv^a and her sister Marie. They are both nice girls, and would become really clever and excellent women if they found their right place and fell into right bands. The mother is a splendid creature, but she does everything in the house herself, and leaves to her daughters nothing but trifles, and such occupations as can neither fill up their minds nor yet their time. Besides, there are many daughters in that family, and the Dufvas' affairs are in an anxious state, so that I fancy they would be relieved Lf a couple of the girls were adopted into a family as its own children. And besides, Eva requires to go away from home and out of the way of that engagement which I like her for BT. BEITA'S SUMMEE. 265 having broken off. She requires to be removed out of the way of all temptation and over-persuasion to its renewal. She requires a new and a fresh sphere of activity; and that she would have here. Marie is only a child, but she is an angel- child, and has been fond of you ever since she read for coufii-mation with you, so that I should have been quite jealous if I had not been so pleased. I have a presentiment that both those girls would be deUghted to come to us, if^ only their parents would consent. But what do you say about it?" " I say that it might have been planned in Heaven, so good does it appear to me. I think that the parents will be quite agreeable. And as far as the girls are concerned, I mean to set about it without delay, and tell them that if they do not spring at once into bur arms, and call us father and mother, we will have nothing to do with them." " Softly, softly, my dear old man ; dgn't be in too great a hurry, else you will frighten them. Besides, we must say that the thing is an experiment for a year or two, that we may see how We get on together, and so on." " That is a matter of course ; but they will get on well with us, and we with them, of that' I am convinced. The girls are coming here to-day with their mother, are they not ? This very day the proposal must be made, and, if possible, the matter arranged." " I have had an Impression all morning," said the pastor's wife, " that something out of the common way was going to happen to-day^ — something good." " God grant it !" said the pastor. " I, on the contrary, have had, this very day, great anxiety about that poor lad, Yngve. Ever since that witch-girl, Hertha — ^whom I should really hke to have in the confessional, and give a sound talking to under four eyes — set off in that inexplicable and unaccount- able way on her journey, without saying a word to anybody, never has he been like himself, as you yourself know. He neither eats, nor sleeps, nor reads, but goes and pines away in grief and in anguish, which sometimes seems like contrition; 12 266 HEBTHA. I cannot understand the affair. He ■will not say anything. But I have seen him wring his hands till they have cracked again, and strike his forehead, or strike the table with his clenched fist, as if he were in a towering rage. And then between-whiles he sits gloomy and dark, beating his brains about something, whilst I have seen fever flush his cheeks, and his eyes flash angrily. I wish with aJl my heart that Count P. would carry him off with him to Prance before* she — ^the witch — comes back. It would serve her right, and perhaps be the only salvation for him." " Yes, but she is come back, and will probably be here to-day." "What do you say?" exclaimed the pastor, disturbed, " and why did you not tell me before ?" " Because I did not know till this mormng that she returned last evening to KuUen. And I have now sent a messenger to her with a note, inviting her to join us and the other mem- bers of the Brother and Sister Societies here to-day ; and I told her that it would be best for her to come, if she wished yet once more to see her patient, because he was going abroad for the establishment of his health, according to the advice of the physician ; and that Count P. had invited him to accom- pany him to France next week." " Yqu have done all that this very mormng ? " inquired the pastor, amazed. " Of a certainty you are a remarkable woman — sometimes. And I must go at once and tell this news to the poor lad." " Wait ! wait ! If he were to know that she is come home, nothing would prevent him from rushing off to her ; and that would never do, weak as he is, and with his lame. knee. He would be breaking a blood-ve^el or some mischief; he has already, twice this week, spit blood. No, that wiU never do!" " Well, then, I shall myself go to her, and speak a little of my mind to her — ^the witch ! " said the pastor vehemently. ./ "Wait, my old man; I expect my messenger back, every moment." . ^ ST. BEITA'S SUMMBE, 267 "Wait, and wait, arid wait: but I cannot wait," said the pastor impatiently. ' " Who knows when your messenger wUl be back agam ? I myself atn the best messenger. Besides, I want to see the girl, and, if possible, get to the bottom of this business. And if she is not as much worn away and changed, as he, Yngve, and does riot look as unhappy, if she put on her proud demeanor, then — God have riiercy on her ! " And with these words the little pastor was ontmde the door, and soon in full career towards the town. "Those men!" sighed the pastor's wife, and shook her head, " they always will have their own way. There he goes now, hurrying along, and will get warm, and then cMQed, and — ^if he had only waited a quarter of an hour — but now I may as well lock up my press, and I had better take out both the large and the little rose ; very likely there will be more guests than I have calculated upon ; and, besides, the children will want some napldns — ^the mended ones are good enough for them. But now I will go and look after Yngve and spice his breakfast with my good anticipations. He had better not hear more at present." AH, this was spoken half aloud by our pastor's little wife, who, Uke many elderly ladies, had acquired the habit of mut- tering to herself She had no little to do that day, our good lady of the parsonage ; for, as we are already aware, 'there was going to be a great feast there that day. The whole of the United Benevolent Societies were to meet at the parsonage ; and afterwards, all the poor children of the Infant School, the greater number of whom belonged to the families who suffered by the fire. The children were, one and all, to receive a com- plete suit of warm clothing for the approaching winter, (and there were still a few httle blouses, shirts, and pinafores to finish, which were to be done this afternoon,) and the enter- tainment was to close with a dance. As regarded the re- freshments, several of the ladies were each to contribute a portion,- so that any want of eatables was a thing not to be thought of. An entertainment on this plan was given twice a 68 HERTHA. ear at the parsonage ; and many of the participators of the 3ast took care that it was not very costly to the minister and is wife. Its spiritual portion, cheerfulness, or its cheeiing Ower, came as a matter of course ; and it was a saying in the Jace, that people enjoyed themselves nowhere so. thoroughly 8 at the pastor's. Besides, people found there that which is o longer so. commonly met with, old mead and old-fiishioned ordiality. When our little pastor returned,- it was with an expression' ery different to that with which he went away. ' " I understand nothing about the whole story," said he, : but it is more serious than I unagiae'd. And not a word, lot even half a word can I get out of her in explanation! In he mean time, I have a note from her for Yngve. As to our messenger, my little woman, I met him on the way to J!ullen, as I was returning thence. He had only some half Lozen errands to do by the way, and " " Ah, what ? Half-a-dozen ! He had only four or five,— lut she is coming here to-day, is she not ? " " Either six or seven ; — yes, she is coming, but whether it [dU be a pleasure for anybody, God alone knows." "How so ? Did she look stiff or proud, as she can look ometimes ? " " No, not a bit of it, and it is better that she did not ; lUt as pale as marljle, as if there were no blood in her body, nd an expression as if she were going to death or judgment. , who had gone to her determined to give her a very grave lirtaia-lecture, I declare I stood before hei* like a school-boy p-ho has forgotten his lesson, and is ready to cry. But I tried look savage, and said, ' Tngve is HI, — ^will soon set out on a ang journey, — come and talk with him.' On which she eplied, quite mildly, but with a sort of death-like immovabil- by, and with colorless lips, ' I wiU come.' "'Tofday?' said I. 'To-day,' replied she, 'and — ^be so food as to give Yngve this,' and she handed me this note, (rhioh was ready written. "I looked sharply at her, and asked her if she had nothing ST. BBITA'S SUMMBE. ' 269 more to say. She replied, ' Nothiag more at present ! but — I will come ! ' ^ " ' Well then, in God's name welcome ! ' said I, and turned round to go my way. Never before did I feel so awkward, and in such a strange state of mind." ^ " Ah,, if she only comes, everythiag will then get right again," suggested the pastor's wife. " I don't understand the matter any better than you do, but of this I'm sure, that, one way or another, this will -be a lucky day ; the bread is incom- parably good ; everything has gone on well in the kitchen, and I feel as elicited, and at the same time in such a holiday state of mind, just as if " "You were going to, have a couple of daughters in the house," interrupted the pastor, " and it wiE be so ; but — now I must go to Tngve. May this note only not make him mad- der than before." Yngve seized it with passionate earnestness, the little white note on which he recognised Hertha's handwriting. He broke the seal, and read these words ia silence ; " Ykgvb, "Meet me to-day, at five o'clock in the afternoon, by Alma's grave. I wish to speak to you there. " Heetha." " She is come, she is come then, at last ! " exclaimed Yngve^ with enthusiastic delight. "I shall then see her, hear her, talk with her. My God, I thank thee ! By the grave. Yes, there. And even if she comes to me with death, I shall thank her. Oh, Hertha ! Hertha ! Thou dost not know ; thou dost not understand "—and Yngve bowed his head into his hands amd wept, " Poor youth, poor lad ! " sighed the pastor, silently, as he., wiped his own eyes. "It is horrible to be so desperately in love : I was in love quite enough with my Elsa, but never in this wise ! " And in order to avoid questions which he in part could not, and in part feai'ed to, answer, the pastor 1^0 HEKTHA. lastened to leave the room, as be said, " He had a child to iaptize," thus leaving Tngve to read and re-read the few TOrds ■which this little note containe'd. , Again alone,, he pressed it to his heart, to his feverish lips, md gave himself vgp to that pathetic foUy, which is to the over — ^be his naftie what it may, Yngve Nordin, Ifapoleon, or ?alm,er8ton— wisdom and the supremest Jife ; that is to say vhen they are beloved. We now leave the pastor to his baptizing ; the pastor's wife ;o}iep manifold occupations j and accompany Yngve to— THE MEETING BT THE GRAVE. It was a -wooded church-yard planted with thick-branched maple and hme-trees, to which Yngve betook himself, and where he had abeady spent many happy hours, at the side of his beloved. It was exactly a fitting place for a solemn meeting. The sun of the Britt-summer day shone still warm above the trees, which also' were bright with their varied tints of gold and fire-color. And whether it might be or not, that the heart of nature was sthred by secret sympathy with the silent disquiet of the young man's heart, it too seemied to be waiting for something upon whose word or look depended life or death. Sudden gusts of wind, which moaned through and swayed uneasily the branches of the trees, and chased the clouds across the hitherto clear sky, alternated with pauses of death-like stillness, when the hghtest footfall might be heard, and when tree and flower, and waving grass, stood still as if hstening. - Then again the wind rose and the trees mur- mured, as if agitated by sighs, and the leaves fell over the graves ; and the wind was warm as the wind of the tropics, as the sweet, the bitter disquiet of love ; and again it became hushed and stiU, and all things seemed to wait. Tngve stood by Alma's grave, with a strongly beating heart, awaiting her who could give him life or death ; so it felt to that agitated young heart, the enfbtions of which had, by expectation and sufiering, been excited to the highest pitch. Already he waited five minutes beyond the appointed time : think, if she should not come. Tngve leaned against an old tree, shaded his eyes from the blinding light of the sun, and stood hstening during a moment of death-like calm ; he Jknew that he should recognise the 172 HEKTHA. ound of her steps. Just, then a genial breath of air fanned lis countenance ; the tree murmured, and something said to fngve, " she is there !" He raised his eyes, and she stood actually before him, hut o changed, so pale, so solemnly earnest, that she might 'have )een but newly arisen from the grave, with the last, heavy beam of human life upon her soul. He involuntarily extended his arms towards her. And she — he strong, proud girl — ^was obliged to support herself by the leat at the grave, because h'er knees trembled beneath her veight, Yngve's emaciated countenanc« bore evidence of the imount of his suffering, but in its pure expression, now, as it yere, transfigured by the glowing light of the sun, was no ionsciousness of criminality. The two contemplated each )ther in silence ; which he was the first to break. " Hertha !" said he, " you too have suffered ; I see- that !" " Yes," replied she, " and you ," she thought of adding, ' have been the cause of it," but she could not do so. The onger, the more closely her glance questioned the countenance )f Tngve, the stronger appeared to her the impossibility, the leavenly conviction that he could not be guilty, and she ex- jlaimed — " No, no, you are not false ; — ^no, you have not icted deceitfully; — ^no, I see by the expression of your coun- ;enance, that you are incapable of such guilt. Oh, my God; [*wiU rather die at this moment than be deceived in this relief ! — Yngve ! you are not the — you cannot be — ^the lover )f Amalia, the father of her child !" " You are right ; I am hot!" replied Yngve, calmly. " I believe you, I believe you, and I thank God !" exclaimed Eertha, with clasped hands. "But tell me — ^why did she nention — Yngve Nordin ?" "Because," replied Yngve, "that is the name of my (Tourigest brother, as well as my own. AU the three brothers ire called Yngve, but with the addition of another name ; the arother of whom you speak is called Alfred Yngve ; I, Yngve Frey." " Oh, I understand — understand all now !" resumed HertlM, THE MEETING BY THE GRAVE. 2Y3 greatly affectecl^-"it is he then vho is guUty, and you— . you are Yngve Frey (Free!) ^Why, why did I not know this before? A great ^eal of suffering might have been spared !" "Why did I not know until a few days ago that AmaJia was your near relative ? Tou never mentioned' her to me, nor she you. I only received my brothers confidence a few weeks ago, and had no right to betray his secret before — circumstances, such as have now occurred, render it a duty in me to do so." " Oh, Yngve ! and I have beheved you guilty ! How; shall I ever forgive myself!" , " Hei-tha ! — give me the right to obliterate this memory ; give me your hand — ^become my wife ; henceforward let all be clear, let there be no concealments between us — at least, if this be the only thing whjich has sundered us !" "STot the only thing; hear me — ^now or never must all be said. Yngve, I have been told that you were fickle; that you Toved another woman- before you loved me. Answer me ! Is there no woman who, more than me, has a title to your fidelity ; no child whicli has a right to demand from you the name and the protection of its father ?'' And Hertha's voice faltered not; but she. herself was deathly pale, and her countenance had resumed its solemn, almost severe, gravity. Well for Yngve that he needed not, as she expected, to evade her eye ; that he could fearlessly look her in the face, as he replied : " Give me your hand, mine is free, and no such responsi- bility rests upon my heart. I have loved before I loved you, yes, but fi-ona the overflowing life of youth, and not from the ftdness of the soul. I might have erred, have fallen, if my mother had not stood like a good angel by my side. When she saw my tendency to be carried away by the feelings ot* theimoment, she talked openly with me, showed me the danger of being thus led away, and convinced me by exam- ples out of every-day life, of the misery or the burdensome- 12* 274 HBETHA. less of those connections* whicli shun the light, and impose iuties or responsibilities upon us which oppressively or re- Jroaohfully accompany us through lite. She made me feel it ;o be a beautiful and noble object to preserve myself worthy )f a pure woman's love. And how I have thanked her, not low alone, but ever since I knew you !" " Is it then really so ?" exclaimed Hertha in a transport of salm certainty, for Tngve's manly and fresh explanation had lismissed every shadow of doubt from her soul ; " you are ;hen really and truly the man whom I sometimes dreamt you ;o be, my Yngve, Yngve Frey ! and I may be proud of loving rou and of being loved by you ! Oh, Yngve, this is certainly t heavenly delight ! whether we are separated by man, or by "ate." " No," interrupted Yngve solemnly, " that shall not be ! What God hath joined together let not man put asunder,' md you are now mine before His sight. Become the same ilso before man ; become my bride, and in a short tim^ my vife; give me the right to watch over -" " Hush, hush, beloved !" interrupted Hertha. " Let us not low talk about the future, not now ! Let us rest at this noment, it is complete in itself — perfect. You are over-excit- sd, my Yngve, by the disquiet of many days ; I am wearied )y the conflict and the agony of this time. Seat yourself at ny side ; let me hold your hand. How handsome you are, iTngve ! how noble and good you are ! The sun loves , you, b smiles upon you ; God's spirit embraces us ; the trees, as it fere, qlap their hands above us : the flowers caress your feet )ecause you are Yngve Frey ! They spring from the gi'ave, i-om the heart of Alma, which has obtained new Ufe through ay happiness. How beautiful life is, Yngve, .my Yngve ' ow great and glorious it is to live — to love !" Thus spoke Hertha, with calm but rapturous emotion, ^is he beamed upon him glances in comparison with the bright- ess and fire of which the glow of the sun was faint. That >rce of expression which was Hertba's characteristic, and rhich gave to her countenance a captivating, interest, was THE MBBTING BT THE GBAVE. 21 6 no-w transfigured to beauty of ncf ordinary kind. lYngve could only contemplate her with joy-bewildered eyes, while he drank in her words as an elixir of life. When they ceased, it was because they were sealed with a kiss, "Ab warm as life, as faithful as death," whilst heart throbbed quickly and strongly against heart. It was not the feeble soul's oblivion of all except the trans- port of the moment ; not the ardent rapture of passion; it was the clear consciousness of an eternal union, a deathless love, which here bound two loving hearts together. But a thrill, as of an electric shock, hastily passed through Hertha. The air swayed around them, and in the same moment was heard the loud tolling of the bell. The church bells tolled ; the chiming for the dead commenced. A little troop of people dressed in black slowly advanced from the churchyard gate toward an open graye. Now the procession paused. The chiiliing beUs ceased, and the monotonous voice" of the clergyman was heard for a moment, together with the restless soughing of the trees ; then came the heavy fiill of the three shovelfixls of mould on the coffin in the grave, accompanied by the words : "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. Our Saviour Jesus Christ shall wake thee up at the last day ! Let us pray !" ' -' After which the usual prayer was spoken by the clergy- man: " Man that is bom of woman is of few days, and fiill of trouble. He oometh forth like a flower, and is cut down ; he fleeth also as> a shadow, and contiaueth not !" Tngve pressed Hertha's hand closer to his heart and said : ," Love is stronger than death !" "Yes," replied Hertha, "I believe it; I know it." " Be mine in life and death," returned Yngve. " I am so !" replied Hertha ; " but I have still something to say to you before — how beautifiil is that song, Yngve! how JTS HEKTHA. it seems to sanctiiy the sleep of the grave — only it is too sad. Joyful songs, Tngve, ought to he sung hy graves; songs (vhich unite night with day, time with eternity ; songs about the ftiture and its anticipations ; songs about the beginning md the completion. But you are pale, Yngve, and the svening is growing chill ; the sun has set ; let us go home : — support yourself on my arm, as you used to do, my Tngve !" At. that moment the chimes began again to play ; and one of the men separating himself from the iuneral procession, has- tily approached them. It was the little pastor, who, uneasy at the long conversar tion of the lovers by the grave, now came to look after them; rhey offered him their hands, and their beaming looks told dim still more than their words, that all was clear, all was right between them. "Well, then, the Lord be praised 1" said the pastor. " Tou need not, however, sit here the whole night, but come with me, like good children, else mother at home there won't be pleased either with me or with you. And the visitors will be .wonder- ing and asking. , Come, children, come along with me." Yngve and Hertha accompanied i their friend, whilst the Euneral procession dispersed in various directions, though the funeral chimes would yet continue for some time. , „ "Who has been buried this evening ?" asked Yngve. "A young manj such as you, and who was only lately betrothed," rephed the pastor sorrowfully. ' The three' walked in gjlenoe to the parsonagCi MERRIMENT AND DANCING. In the parsonage of Solberga all was life and cheerfulness. People drank coffee and dipped in their biscuits ; they sewed, talked, joked, and laughed. The gentlemen would help the ladies in making the blouses and pinafores ; but they made mistakes, and turned the little garments upside down, sewed in the sleeves wrong, either purposely or by accident; re- ceived instruction, were scolded and also praised, sometimes, when now and then they showed themselves willing to become " c'ever with their needle," or to serve as sewing-cushions for a moment or two, which office, to speak the truth, they per- formed very indifferently. In the mean time these occupations gave occasion to a great deal of merry contention, and through all one Uttle garment after another was finished, exhibited, praised, and criticised, with or without justice, and then raised aloft, that is to say, put on the top of the little pile of clothes which was arranged for every chUd, upon a large table. Mimmi Svanberg levied a contribution on aU the young men of the place in these words : . " Cousin, I shall compel you to give me a twelve-skilling piece," or, " My dear Mr. M. N., will you give me a twelve- ekilling piece ?" And there was not a cousin, nor a Mr. M. N., nor even a Mr. N. B., who did not give her his little silver ■ twelve-slpUing, as cheerfully as it was asked, well knowing that it was given for a good work. After that little collection, Mimmi Svanberg became the life and soul of the sewing society, whilst she now here, and now there, contrived between one person and another, to knit the threads which she held iu her soft hands, and which were always knit to somebody's advantage. Here it was a young 278 HEETHA. ^overftss w&o wanted a situation in a family ; there a family who were in want of a governess ; here an old couple who ivere willing to adopt a child ; there a little child who needed to be adopted ; here a shawl which required selling ; and there 1 lady who wanted to buy a shawl ; and here old aunts and (^oung cousins who wanted advice; and Mimmi Svanberg must do aU this and find counsel for all these. Mimmi had really enough to do. Then the children came, received their new clothes, and began to sing their songs ; little Mina led them with her clear voice ; and after that followed dancing — first with the chil- dren, and afterwards among the company themselves. Some of our readers may haVe experienced how an enter- tainment which immediately follows or is connected with some work of love in which the company to be entertained have taken common part, is animated by a more than usually good and cheerful spirit. The heart enters, as it were, into the' dance, and the feet receive wings therefrom. Seldom had the gay Swedish folk-dances, " Vaf^a-Vallmar" and the " Nigar- polska," which comprehended both old and young, been danced with more animation, ngr amid more hearty merriment, than this evening after the clothing of the children at the parson- age. Every now and then, also, the pastor's wife refreshed them with her home-brewed, foaming mead. And no hearts, this evening, were more joyful than hers and her husband's, for they had obtained' a daughter in the house named Eva Dufva, who accepted the invitation of the good couple, as Noah's restless dove the twig of the ohve-tree, which aflforded her a resting-place above the swelling waves, the di-eaded deluge. When the dancing commenced, Hertha left the company to • return home, and Yngve accompanied her. CONVERSATION BY THE WAY. The full moon had risen, and now, alternately concealed by clouds, which an unsteady hut not ungenial wind chaged across fke heavens, and now shining forth brightly from between them, hghted the lovers on their way. Yngve was again supported on Hertha's arm, and both walked sUently, feeling how momentous was the approaching decisive moment. Yngve, however, soon broke the silence, % " "We must soon sep'arate, Hertha," said he, " I must leave you. In a few days, as you know, I must go abroad for the winter, in order fully to establish my health, that I may be able next spring to return to my former emjfloyment, to all which is dear to me, my native land, my mother, and— oh, let me add, my bride ! Unless you agree to this, unless you de- cide our fate, I cannot take the journey with calmness ; and besides that, the thought that I must preserve my health, not for my own sake, but for yours, will be more beneficial to me than aU the watering-places in the world. You know, because I have told you so, that I have not much property, but I am without debts,' and my prospects, in the career which I have adopted, give me the hope of soon obtaining an independence, both for me and mine. You know my heart, you know how I love you, Hertha — ^why then many words ? — can you not love me ? cannot you trust yourself to me ■vyith your whole heart and with your whole soul, have faith in me, as I in you ? then — ^I win ask nothing from you. You have demanded an undivided heart. I ask, I denfand nothing less from you!" " Then, now hear my confession, Yngve !" replied Hertha, " and after that you yourself shall decide upon our ftiture ! you are not my first lovej Yngve ! — although I have not loved 280 HEETHA. any man before you. Mine has been a joyless childhood and youth ; my first impressions of life were hitter, mj first impres- sions of home and marriage were that distress of mind afid anguish which are the results of domestic dissensions, of my mother's tears and hystericali cries of unhappiness. These produced in me an early disgust of marriage, and I made a vow with myself many a time, of late years, that no child of mine should, amid deceitful caresses, he brought up to quaff that bitter wormwood draught called Life. I saw noble and gentle women oppressed ; heard their silent sighs ; saw them become pale and sink into the grave, after a life without joy and without purpose, and, in proportion as my hatred tp the opprepsor ^ew, grew also an infinite compassion, an ai'dent love for all oppressed souls, which I might very weU call iny first love, and I vowed to myself to live for them, and never to give iny heart and my hand to a husband. But, you came, Yngve-; I learned to love you, and through you I began to have faith in man's justice, in man's magnanimity. •That was much, but you gave me more ; you gave me faith in God, by the knowledge of his ways, by the insight into his revelation,; oh! I have to thank you for. very, very much !" " Is it then only gratitude ?" said Yngve ; " is it no more than this which binds you to me ? in tbat ease, Hertha, we may easily part, because " " No," interrupted she, " ah, no I and you cannot wish for more than my heart gives you, in the fii-st place involuntarily, I acknowledge ilj ; but afterwards of free will and cheerftilly, since I have conie to know you fully ; and yet, nevertheless, I cannot helpdreading marriage, even with you, because I dread its consequences ; dread the becoming a mother ; dread, in particular, being the mother of a daughter ! How is it, Yngve, that woman, the whole world over, is commended, as daugh- ter, wife, mother, sister, ftiend, nurse, comforter, — ^yet, at the same time, among aU people, how common it is to regard the birth of a daughter with indifference, or dissatisfaction, nay, even with pity ? Is it not from this cause that woman's lot on earth is an inferior one ; that she is not entitled, as men are, CONVERSATION BY THE "WAY. 281 by the laws of the land, to freedom, independent action, or to seek for hjippiiiess in her own way ? that she is destined to be depreciated and to suffer much ? And here, in our native land especially, how gloomy is her path ; how circumscribed her portion ! how is the whole of her life crushed down by unjust laws, and the pleasure of men ! No, no ! I cannot be the mother of a daughter !" Yngve now repUed, with as much tenderness and feeling as if he were speaking to a sick person : " I understand you, my beloved. But you are too much affected by your gloomy impressions, and not yet accustomed to contemplate brighter scenes. But have faith in God, then — ^how can you do otherwise than hope in the extension of his kingdom, his justice and love on the earth ? Our laws, with regard to the freedom of woman and her future, may be changed ; yes, they must be changed ; if not, our nation must abandon its share in the real elevation and advance of free nations. It cannot possibly be long before all nations discover the true means of their moral ennobling, and before the stream of spiritual emancipation, which is permeating the world, will also elevate and Uberate our nation by means of its most vital laws and in'stitutions. I cannot doubt of it when I think what Swedish women were, and are for their native land, even under laws so narrow-minded as ours are with regard to them ; I cannot doubt of it in presence of a woman such as you. And you, and I, and all good citizens will labor to speed forward the advent of that day." Hertha looked up, whilst her eyes beamed with a sort of bitter joy. " Tes," said she, " I will combat for that object, even though it should debar me for ever from the more delicious joys of life. Yes, I will remain faithftil to my first love !" " How ? what do you mean ?" asked Yngve, .astonished. " Let us rest a moment here, Yngve ; you must be tired with walking, and these waEs," they were now among the ruias, "-afford us convenient resting-plaoes ; we can talk better here." 282 HEETHA. Yngve seated himself upon a fallen wall and gazed with excited attention at Hertha, who continued standing opposite to him, as she rested her arm upon another blackened wall ; the moon brightly illumined he;r expressive countenance and noble figure. She continued in a grave and gentle voice: " Is there no higher object for man and woman than marriage, than that of building for themselves a Uttle nest and then living happily with each other, and with their offspring, like animals, or savages who approximate to animals? I will not blame such as do not seek any object higher than this in life ; but God has not permitted me to find it all-suflScing. Were it so, I should be disloyal to my first love ; I should have lived and suffered in vain. Yngve ! I love you with my whole heart, and yet I cannot, I will not live alone fbr your happiness and my own, — in that case I should not deserve to hve." " Strange girl ! For what then will you live ?". "To liberate my captive sisters," replied Hertha, with fervor and earnestness, " to liberate those souls whose long- ings and sufferings God has given me to ffeel and to under- stand; as far as my ability and my little sphere on earth extend, to break the fetters which bind them, to inspire the^j with the desire which inspires me ; to give them the hope which has become mine, since I have become acquainted with you, Yngve, and through you with the Lor.d of freedom and love. I am not too sanguine in" my hopes, as you are; IknoWj Yngve, that such men as yon and Judge Carlson are rare in the world, and I fear that it will yet be long before our Swedish legislators will concede to woman the right of unre- stricted human and social freedom and development; long before they will throw open to the daughters of Sweden thosp educational institutions which would give them an opportuni- ty of acquiring knowledge and self-reliance; in a word, before they ^Hl do for.thein that which they have done for the sons of our country. Besides, I know thg,;^ I am only a mean woman, not having arrived at years of maturity in the eye of the land, without the right to control my. own property, CONVEKSATION BY THE "WAT. 283 or my own actions ; ignorant of many things which it is important for me to know ; hut I feel within myself a wiU, and latterly a light, which may place me in a condition to work towards a coming deliverancej " I have of late oft_en had a vision which will grow clearer and clearer to my eye, until it becomes the light and object of my Ufe. I see^myself, in lofty, light school-lrooms, -sur- rounded by young women, and conversing with them of their fouls' inner voice, and of God's voice in it, of the most impor- tant object of life and of society, of the vast importance of every individual life, every individual gift, and their conse- quent connection with it ; of their value as members of a divine community on earth as in heaven, of their highest diity and highest right. I would found an institution of education, a higher school, where they shall not learn French or Ger- man, or music or drawing — all those can be learned elsewhere — ^but where' young girls, out of whatever class of society they may be, which have awoke to a consciousness of a higher want and for whom the spiritual cell in which they have lived has become too limited, may acquire the true knowledge of themselves and of their vocation, as members of society ; may teach themselves to reflect and to answer the questions, ' What am I ? what can I do ? what ought I to do ?' " I would impart to these young human souls an insight into theii- own souls, and into life, which shall teach them to under- stand their own position and calling in it ; I would open their ears to hear the voice of God, dedicate their desires to the obedient fulfilment of its bidding. One and all should follow their own individual course, but all tending to ole common object; the freedom of the one should operate for the freedom of all. Prayer and labor should be pur tools ; our watchword, 'Freedom in God through Christ.'* And a day will come, * If any think that Hertha here propounded erroneous doctrine, we would take the liberty of recalling to their memory the following texts, among many others to the same purport: — ■ "Por ye are all the children of God hy faith in Christ Jesns." There is neither male nor female : for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." • SaM. chap. iiL 26 28 284 HBETHA. Yngve, when the voices from this little flock of enfraaehised and enlightened souls will arise and reach the ear of him who sits upon the throne of our native land, — will reach the assem- bly of legislatprs, not as the cry of emancipation for women, feehle and inharmonious, but as a strong, harmonious, accord>-, ant choir ; and then they must Usten, then they must xmder- stand, and then, perhaps, they will act according to justice and truth. " I perhaps may not live to see this day, but I may prepare its advent ; see the rosy tints of its dawn ascend in young combating breasts, on pure foreheads, and then — -I shall die contented. " Many things in my plan are still immature and indistinct,^ But I know that it will clear itself up, and that I shall mature myself for it. Neither do I know the time nor the hour when, I may be able to set it in operation, but I feel within me that it will come. And in the mean tim,e I will prepare myself for it, will endBavor to acquire the knowledge in which I am defi- cient ; will endeavor to become acquainted with such persons as might be able to assist me, either by counsel or by action,, although I shall rely not alone, on such aid — ^because how sel- dom do we find that people will reach forth a helping hand towards the accomplishment of a good work, which is peculiar and out of the common everyday track ? Every one who devotes himself to such a work must be prepared to stand alone, unsupported — often perhaps to be abused and counter* acted. But this gives me very IStle concern. One, I know, there is in heaven who will understand me, and one also on earth — yovl| my Yngve ! And now I ask you, my Yngve,, can •you, will you extend to me your hand as a helper in my under- taking, and enter into my work ; can my love become your love, my friends your friends, my life's object yours ?" " You open to me a fore-court .of the kingdom of heaven," exclaimed Yngve, " and ask whether I will enter into it ? Yes, " As many -OS are led by the spirit of God, are the sons (children) of God ;" " Andif children, then heirs ; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ." .Bom/chap. Tlli. 14, 17. " All things are yonrs."— 1 Car. chap ill. 21. . CONVERSATION BY THE WAT, 285 Hertha, yes ! that I will, with all my heart and all my soul ! Neither do I see that my occupation as engineer can prevent me from actively participating in a labor of higher importance than aU plans of advancement in time -and space. ■ Yes, I know that it is precisely hy means of such an intellectual activity that my life's endeavors, my soul's desires will find their full purpose and accomplishment. Only you must'promise me one thing ; for I also have my conditions, beloved !" " What are they, Yngve?" "That you will allow youths as well as young girls to attend your classes, your- lectures ! Of special branches of study, abstract philosophy, we can obtain sufficient knowledge in our academies and colleges, but not a living view of life, of society, and of ourselves ; this can be given best by a womanly soul,= such as yours ! Therefore — ^let youths also attend your classes, Hertha!" " Any one whom you may introduce to me, Tngve, shall be welcome to me as a brother." " Good ! we are then agreed on this. Give me your hand, my bride, my wife — ^my helper in labor and pleasure, in joy and sorrow, in life and death !"* In reply Hertha extended her arms and clasped her friend in a Mthftd, warm embrace. The evening wind fluttered around them, and scattered them with ashes and dust from the ruins around them. They felt it not. They had bmlt for themselves a home and a house not made with -hands, one which would stand when their hands had become powerless, and in which they might dweU when their hearts had ceased to throb on earth against each_ other, as they did now. That they knew, and were happy," nay blessed ! The joy of heaven united itself with that of earth in their pure bosoms. " Let us now go to your father," said Yngve ; " everything must be said and done this very evening. In order to bear the thought of a long separation, from you I must know that in the spring I may return and claim you as my wife." Hertha sorrowflilly shook her head.; and now bjegan to 286 ' HHETHA. ^epare him for the diflSculties, nay, even the oppoatiom which, in all probability, they would have to encounter fron:i her father. They might expect long delay, possibly refiisal. They must arm themselves With patience. Tngve would not listen to this, he was impatient and irri' tated by the thotight that a woman such as Hertha, of matured age, and. with her own independent property, should not be allowed to decide her own choice or her own iiiture. i " It is irrational ; it is not to be thought of," said he, "that your father will refuse it to you !" But the certainty which Hertha 'possessed, that this was not only possible, but even probable, communicated itself by degrees to Yngve, and depressed him. The certainty of their hearts' inward xmion, and the thought of the bond which they had formed, was not sufficient to sustain his joyous state of mind at this moment, when' in addition the approaching sepa^ ration hung like a heavy cloud over his heaven. The remaiader of the way was passed in silence. As they passed Kullen, Yngve said : ^ " I have a request to make of you, Hertha. I have had by degrees all my little store of books sent to me at the Solberga. Will you take charge of them, and let my books talk to you of me whilst I am far away ?" " You could not give me a more precious gift, Yngve," said Hertha, " exce'pting one, which I will beg of you !" " Of me !" exclaimed Yngve, joyfully surprised, " what — what can I give you f" Never had Hertha's voice been so melodious, as now when , with humility and heartfelt emotion she said : " Your influence with your mother ; that she wiU consent to come and be a mother in my home, a mother to me and my young sisters. She shall find there daughterly respSet and love. I have spoken with my father on the subject, and he sees it in the same light as I do. Our home "needs a good and prudent mistress, my young sisters an experienced and motherly oversight, and I the leisure, in dependence upon this, to prepare myself for my future undertaking. Thus, as I, CONTEESATION BY THE WAT. 28 through you, became aequainted with your mother, I feel tha I shall love her ; that she will be a good angel in my horn and — for me, who will learn from her that gentleness in womai which you, Yngve, value so highly. And there is in my homi a room within mine, with a window towards the setting sun a pleasant little room, which it will delight me to arrangi according to your mother's taste, and which I long since des tined.for her. Pray of her, Yngve, to conie and take posses sion of it, and call it hers ; it will make me very happy ! WU you, Yngve?" "I know not how to thank, you?" said Yngve, deeply af feoted ; "but I understand you, and I will write to my mo ther." If ow they were at KuUen, and entered the bouse with an uneasy presentiment as to the reception which they might meet, — little dreaming, however, that they would meet and be met by 288 BBBTIIi , THE GREAT LAW-SUIT. At the moment when Yngve and Hertha entered the hall, Aunt If ella came rushing m from her own room with her large portfolio under, her arm,, her eyes wiSe open, and with altoge- ther a most bewildered appearance. " Yes," said she^ ad4re8sing Hertha in a passionate and re- proachful tone, "you are come in time to accompany. your father to prison, unless I can save him and us all ! Ay, now it is all plain' enough ; now we shall see what comes of it." And so saying. Aunt Nella began hastily to ascend the stairs with the great porttbho in her arms, incessantly talking the while of " enemies," and " prison," . and "law-suit,"', and " I very well knew that it would come, that I did ! But I shall be as good as they ! I shall show them my papers. They shall see, they shall see, they shall see " Greatly amazed, Yngve and Hertha followed Aunt Nella's steps to the dining-room, where the door of the Director's room which adjoined it, stood open. Within Hertha saw lights burning, and her father pale with anger, standing before two gentlemen, who were strangers to her. They seemed to have brought a written document, which now lay on" a table between them and the Director, and upon which he, from time to time, east angry glances. " I wiU continue my suit against you as long as I live!" said he in a voice tremulous with anger. " As you please, Mr. Director," said .one of the gentlemen with cabn politeness ; "but the longer you do so, the more yt)u will lose. The verdict of the Court " ' " The Court .'" screamed Aunt Nella, as she Stormed in THE GEEAT LAW-SUIT. 289 with her great portfolio, " the Couit must first hear what I have to say, and see my papers !" And before the astonished eyes of the two gentlemen Aunt NeUa held up the big portfoliOj as she continued, " And if it comes to freeing my brother-in-law and myself from the talons of the law, and from prison, means will not be wanting ; see here ! and see hei-e !" And Aunt Nella, from out of the coniumon of letters, scraps out out of newspapers, and patterns &r embroidery, drew forth several small pieces of paper, which soon fixed the attention of the gentleman. These small pieces of paper were actual scrip, some for several hund^ds, and others thousands of risi-doUars, and the amount of which, when all added together, showed a total value of about ten thousand lix- doUars. The two gentlemen had evidently begun with the suspicion that, "the old woman must be crazy!" but afterwards it seemed to be that, " the old woman might perhaps be wiser than people imagined." Aunt NeHa, continaed : " My enemies have long persecut- ed me in secret, but now when their malice is revealed, and they seek to drag in my brotheivin-law also, it is my duty to place in his hands those means which may free both him and myself". Aunt Nella said this with pathos, and not without dignity. But the Director, who wished to make an end of this scene, said shortly ': "'Keep your money, sister-in-law ; •! have no need of it; but I thank you for your good intention. Gentlemen, we have, I believe, nothing more to say to each other. I have received your summons, and shall appear before the Court. Good-bye." The two gentlemen bowed coldly to the Director, and witib, half a smile to Aunt Nella. The Director again fixed upofl her astonished and deferen- tial regards. They said evidently, "This from Aunt N"eUa*! Who would have ^peeted such a thing of her ? Ten thou- 13 290 HEETHA. sand rix-doUars ! The Nought (NoUa) is of more value than I imagined." Aunt Nella, who saw the astonishment and read the thoughts of the Director, sunned herself, in the expression of his glances, without rightly comprehending that they had reference to the nought, which he had formerly conddered as her only value. The excitement which had so lately given him strength, died away on the departure of the gentlemen, and he sank down in his arm-chair with a deep sigh and almost fainting. Hertha went up to her father, as s^e said : " Father, I am here. Will you not tell me what it is that has so disturbed you ? Cannot I be of some use ? cannot I help in some way ?" " And I," said Yngve, also going forward and taking the Director's hand, " cannot I be of some service to you ? Let^ oh, let me serve you as your son and as Hertha's husband ! My whole life shall prove how highly I value this happiness !" Exactly as a wall of rock raises itself against a rushing flood, and dams up its course, so now rose up the Director, and gazed at the two with looks of astonishment, which became all the more rigid and severe as he exclaimed in broken sen- tences : " Thank you — thank you — ^for the offer of so much help ; but— I believe myself not altogether incapable of helping my- self, of managing my own affairs. I do not feel as yet any need of support — I feel myself as strong and as clear as I ever did. And as regards your offer to my daughter. Lieutenant, I am astonfehed that she did not prepare me for it, as, accord^ ing to my id^as, it was her duty to do — and I am — ^in jjFelcome to the house of Hertha's father. AH this was reasonable enough, and was more than Tngve expected after the scene of the preceding evening. He there- fore thanked the Director cordially, and expressed his hope that before long he might be able to satisfy his reasonable demands, and offer to Hertha a position in*life secure from pecuniary difficulties. Yngve also contrived to create an 294 HEETHA. interest in the miad of the Director for the xindertakings in which he was interested, and in which his fdture prospeci^ were involved. He produced altogether so agreeable an im- pression upon the Director, that he received from him an invitation to stay to supper. Such an event as a young man being invited to stay to sup- per, had not occurred for many' a long year, never since the time when Alma's lover visited with them. The dining-room at Kullen exhibited this evening an unu- BuaUy agreeable aspect. The large fire of pine-logs, which cfacMed and flamed merrily, threw a joyous light upon the • father of the family, who sate in a comfortable comer, smok- ing his pipe and talking with Yngve about the various schemes fdr railroads and water conveyances in Sweden and other countries : upon little Aunt Nella, who sate by the fire busily' winding off her yarn, and muttering to herself with an unu- sually pleased expression ; on the supper-table, which was spread and adorned with fiowers by Martha and Maria ; and lastly on Hertha, who came and went, as she silently attended to her household duties. She appeared to Yngve, this while, so noble and beautiful, that he sometimes became quite absorbed, and forgot that it was needful to answer the ques- tions of the Director about railroads, or else he replied wholly at random. For instance, when questioned about a certain branch of railway, he answered like one in a dream, " an actual Iduna ! " and as to the direction of another railroad, he replied with warmth, " to aU eternity ! " • The director looked at him in astonishment, but whenithe observed the direction of his eyes, he smiled, puffed the smoke from his tobacco-pipe, and did not seem offended. They had scarcely ever seen the Director so civil and so kind to any om before. How happy the sight of this made Hertha, ' and tl pleasant anticipations for the future which it gave rise to, both in her breast and that of Yngve, may easily be conceived. The evening meal became, under these circumstances, one of the most joyous which had- ever been partaken of in that home. When it was ended the Director spoke to Yngve A MOMENT. 295 - about his mother, and now made her, through her son, that qflfer of a place in his family, which Hertha had prepared him for. Tngve perceived that the Director regarded this matter as an affair which would be advantageous to the family, and he silently commended her consideration. Before they separated Hertha led her friend into the room which she had prepared and arranged for his mother. " See, Tngve," said she, " yom- book-case sh^ stand there, and here in this easy chair your mother shall sit, and I here, beside her, when we read together your books and your let- ters. Here, at this writing-table, will your mother, and — ^I also sometime^ — ^write to you." Hertha wished, in this moment of separation, to leave upon Tngve's mind the impression of her close connection with his mother, and of the life she would lead in her new home. She wished that he, in memory, should see them together. Tngve was at the same time so affected, and rendered so happy by all that had taken place, that when he took leave of Hertha's sisters, he pressed them to his heart with an earnest tenderness that at once astonished and affected them ; he kissed Aunt Nella's hand and then her cheek, which caused her to make such a start of pleasurable surprise, as broke her yam-thread ; for she discovered, all at once, a great resemblance between Tngve and one of the ball-room admir- ers of her young days, and she began to puzzle her brain about some secret intrigue in connection with this circumstance. Tngve -was disposed to clasp the Director and the whole family in his embrace, but the distant though polite demeanor of the former checked any extraordinary demonstration as regarded him. Nevertheless, when Tngve, with an expression rf filial reverence and gratitude in his frank and handsome ^untenance, yet once more shook his hand at parting, the Director accompanied hiin to the door, and said, with undis- guised good-Will : "I wish you all success and a happy return. Tou are still quite young, and while the Patriarch Jacob could wait seven years, and again seven years, for his beti-othed, it ought not to 296 HERTHA. appear long to you to wait a yeat or two for one who is dear to you. Time flies fast." Hertha, this evening, kissed her father's hand, as she had not kissed it since the time when she looked up to him in blind obedience and love. .* SEVEN YEARS: THE PATRIARCHAL RELATIONSHIP. Wb read in the history of the Patriarch Jacob, that the seven years which he served for Rachel " seemed to him but a few days, for the love he had to her." And I knew a Swedish girl who devoted herself for ten years to wait upon her blind and necessitous father, and who, although she was yoxmg and blooming when she ent,ered upon this service, and was pale and withered when it was ended (at her father's decease), yet. who found not those ten years to be either long or oppressive. The reason of this was, that affection had been the impelling principle, had sustained the soul, given wings to time, had made even weariness dear, and changed life into a beautiful pastime. How different must it be when the service is for those whom we cannot love, or when force or injustice enchain the free soul to a lot which it has not chosen! how oppressive the days then become ; how interminable the years ; how gloomy . the heart, life, the future. Providence — everything ! We wiU pass with light and hasty steps over those years of Hertha's history which we have now to describe, and only by a few touches delineate their hghts and shadows. - Half a year after the parting which we have described in J;he foregoing chapter, Yngve returned to Sweden, his health ^e-estabUshed, and ftiU of earnestness, hope, and activity. Two yeairs afterwards he was advanced to a position in his profession which gave hiTn the certain prospect of a modest competency for the future, and he now renewed his request to Hertha's father for his consent to their union.- The Director replied that he did not consider Yngve's prospects as yet 13* 298 HEETHA. sufficiently established. Besides which, his health, he sail, was such that he cotdd neither dispense with his daughter's care at home, nor yet could he look into the state of her property. He considered it hest, therefore, that the lovers should yet wait for a year or. two. It was now, that Hertha for the first time broke the bond* of silence, which long custom and inherent reverence for the patriarchal guardianship had imposed upon her. Sh« spoke seriously and plainly with her father, reminded him of aU his promises, told him of her own human right to dispose of her own person, her own . property, and to determine her own future. She appealed to him in the name of justice and of reason ; but, ah ! her father, in his favor, could oppose against her the decisions of the law, " the Paternal Statutes;*' After he had. listened to her with an almost scornful calmness^ he proved to her out of the Statute-book itself, that she ; possessed no right at all over her own property, over herself, or her future, otherwise than in as» far as her "father would consider it. She was "a minor"_ in the eye of the law, and was bound to guide herself entirely according to the will of her guardian. His promises to her — ^he could not remember having made any. K he had ever made any promises, it could only be on condition of his fulfilling them in case he found it right to do so, but that nobody, either by force or otherwise, should compel him to do anything which he was not willing to do of himself. He was not one who would allow himself to be compelled. He had now spoken his mind, and there was an end of it, and people knew what they had to do. Hertha did not this time give way to the proud feeling which rose up within her. She besought her father to Uste: to the voice of reason ; she reminded him, with tears, o: Alma's last prayer. Nor did she now even demand, she only prayed on her knees before him— for her freedom, for her human right, which if her father would not grant her from a sense of justice, would he not do so out of kindness and mercy ? But the Director at this moment was excited beyond him- SEYEN YEAES. v 299 self. " Did she -vrish to kill him ?" he asked, " or to drive him mad ? Could she not wait a year or two ? More he did not ask for." And he ended by appealing to her affection as a daughter. " She ought to obey her father. He knew better than she did what would contribute to her welfare. He did not hke sentimental scenes. He knew what he would have, and have it he would, and there was an end." Reader, if thou hast ever prayed for something which was right and reasonable ; prayed earnestly, put thy whole soul into thy prayer ; humbled thyself, renounced thyself in order, through love and sacrifice, to obtain — thy right, and yet hast been denied, then perhaps wilt thou be "able to under- stand Hertha's feelings as she arose from her humble position at her father's knee. Pale, rigid, with a gloomy expression of eye, and with a dark presentiment in her soul, she rose slowly and left the rcoin without saying a word. But her soul was in a state of tumult. She was calmer, but gloomily resolute, when on the after- noon of the same day she related the result of her conversa- tion with her father to Tngve and Judge Carlson, who came on purpose to hear it. Both were exceedingly angry, and advised her to appeal to the courts of justice, and let them decide between her and her unreasonable father. Without doubt they would decide in her fevor. ^ " I believe so too," said Hertha : " but one thing is certain, and that is, that I shall never appeal to them to obtain my rights against my father." " Then you- do not love me," exclaimed Tngve, reproach- fiilly ; " you wiU let me die of Taritalus-agony rather than consent to a bold but rational procedure. Tou do not under- stand my affection for you — you caimot have the same for me. Tou are afraid of your fiither — afraid of the world's judgment of you, — ^I am qothing to you — ^my life and my happiness are nothing to you." Hertha fixed upon Tngve a look of unspeakable reproachful anguish, but she said not a word. 300 HEETHA. "I honor your delicacy of feeling, your sense of filial duty," said Judge Carlson, "but these may Ibe carried too far. Reflect that you sacrifice both your own and another's fljitusre for egotistical perversity, for unbounded obsthiacy. And yon have already mentioned to me yotir anxiety about your father's affairs, and his ability to manage them — reflect, therefore, that yOu are probably sacrificing not only y©» own, but your sister^' property, which is in his hands,^-as well as their future prospects." Hertha bowed het head into her hands and sat for a mo- Bttent slent. When she again raised her ootmtenance it was bathed in tears. " Oh, my friends," said she, " do not be angry with me. I (Jannot do otherwise ; my conscience forbids me. Because my father is an unreasonable father, must I be an uunatuisal I daughter ? Must I rise up against Mm who gave me life, and ' embitter his life ? — cast a shadow upon him through the whole kingdom — ^reveal his wealmess or his injustice ? No ; I will not merit the reproach of having acted unworthily as a daughter. I should in that case ectasider myself unworthy of being one day a mother. No ; I wiU not appear pubholy as an accuser of my father. Rather let Yngve and me wait patiently — die, if so it must be. I will do all that lies in my ■power, all that can be done by the performance of duty, by persuasion — and perhaps a time may come whien my father's heart wiU. not be so closed against me as now^ but never, never will I through force and compulsion deserve Ms hatred, his curse. And if you can accuse me for this, Yngve, you are no longer the no^le, the right-minded Ymgve whoto I loved." " But your sisters ?" resumed the lawyer. " Show me," said Hertha, " a way of securing their futttffe prospects, without giving a death-blow to our father's respec- tability, and to his life, perhaps, by my laying before thfl monarch and the nation my suspicions of his stewardship of our property. Can you show me any other way ? Do our laws afford no other means ?*' SEVEN TEAKS. 301 Both Carlson aad Yngye were silent. Hertha rose up. ".Give me your hands," said she, " you cannot disapprove of my feelings. Support me rather in the severe time of trial which is at hand, Yngve !" — Hertha's glance ^oke what no words could express, the suffering which she endured on his account. He understood her looks, and replied by clasping her to his heart. " Forgive me !" whispered he ; " never more shall you hear a reproachful word from me." Tngve's resolution was, however, taken at this moment. He would separate himself for a time both from Hertha and his native land, and accept a professional offer which had been made to him abroad, and which afforded him more advan- tageous prospects than he had at present in Sweden. For it was to him unendurable to live near Hertha under the con-^^* straint which his half-engagement to her and her own wishes 1 imposed. And he was right. Hertha did not love Yngve as he loved her. No woman can frilly understand the passion which glows in the whole being of the enamored young man, nor can she participate it. She loves equally as much, often more,, or better than he, but in quite another manner. Carlson contemplated the two yowng friends with deep sym- pathy, and Hertha with real aditniration, because he perfectly understood her. " Remember your promise," said he to her at the close of this interview, " to make use of me whenever you may want the help of a fatherly friend, of one who would be a father to you, and — would to God that I were so !" Yngve set off soon afterwards with one of his young friends to Piedmont, whither Ms new engagement called him. Judge Carlson removed to his magisterial district. Hertha remained alone in her father's house. The Director's health improved somewhat during the follow- ing year, in the course of which he received various flattering ' publie marks of honor. He had made himself known and esteemed as a clever and unflinching servant of thegovemoteirtj 302 HEETHA. and therefore the order of the Knight of the North Star was conferred upon him with the title of Chief Director, and his name was changed to that of Falkenhjelm, which name was borne by an elder branch of the same family. He was spoken of in general as a " substantial old fellow," a " close man," a " prudent man," a " clever old gentleman," and so on, and regarded as a man of great practical understanding, as well as substantial wealth. Meantime the mysterious law-suit pro- ceeded, regarding- which Aunt Nella continued in profound sUence, to give significant looks and put on an important ah-, but about which, from fear of her brother-in-law's displeasure, she never dared to speak aloud, and about which he himself never spoke, excepting to the lawyer to whom he had intrusted his cause, and with whom he had long and mysterious con- ferences. This law-suit and these conferences had evidently a great influence upon the Director's temper, wMch in con- sequence became more and more gloomy, and irascible, in spite of the light which was oast from the sun of royal favor over' his civU services. Hertha, who sometimes doubted the justice of her suspicions regarding her father's mismanagement of the family property, became nevertheless uneasy at the repeated • proofs which occurred of his faUmg memory and impaired powers of mind, but stiU she could not even here attain to fdU certainty. There occm-red at this time in her life, one of those long states of twilight, which are so general in the lives of women in the north, especially in Sweden; states of twilight *duriag which every object is involved in shadows, and when one can only, act or work inasmuch as the little flame one hghts can enable one to see ; states which wonderftiUy remind us of the Scandinavian " Hades," that wonderful world of mist, full of rain-clouds, and shapeless magical forms, and clammy, poi- sonous rivers. But there are two kinds of twilight, that of evening, and that of the morning. The former deepens into night ; the latter brightens into day. Weak or melancholy temperaments : belong to the former, but energetic souls, and those also in SBVBN YEARS. 303 which the strength of God's love has kindled its • elevating flame, are — yes, even if the whole of their earthly life con- tinues in twilight — ^they are the children of the rosy morning, and their souls and their labors are tinged by its celestial glow. We need not say to which of these two classes Hertha belonged. Her energetic soul, the light which came to her from the friend who reconciled her to life ; faith in a superin- tending, fatherly providence, which never deserted her, since she had so evidently perceived its guidance in her heart, in her life ; the ' purity and beauty of her connection with Tngve ; the conviction that she had acted according to the highest dictates of duty and conscience — aD these helped her to over- come the bitterness which unjust power awoke within her, helped her also during the unhappy continuance of twilight in her life and home, to kindle a light which did not merely enlighten herself but .others also, — nay, indeed almost every one who came within her sphere of life. Towards her father she continued to be an obedient and carefiil daughter, even when she was obliged to give up aU hope of finding in him a fatherly support in any respect. Love him she could not, neither show him the love, the sweet, aflfec- tionate attention which lovi ' only can inspire. And although he received all that he demanded; punctuality, obedience, order in everything which concerned him, — he complained not unfrequently to his faithful, old servant of his eldest daughter's obstinacy, want of affection, and insubordination towards him. She was, he said, of an inflexible character, who would not take the pains to please her father, or make him happy ; she was stubborn, irreconcilable, unforgiving, selfish, and so on. Oh, thou fool! Thou desirest love and reconciliation, but thou thyself exhibitest the opposite ; thou complainest of cold- ness and want of feeling in look and manner, ^an^ thou thyseli" art the cause of this by thy own behavior, thou thyself doing nothing to call forth kindly feelings. She of whom thou com- plainest may have treasures of love and tenderness in her heart, but thou wUt never experience them, and thou wilt never be 304 HBETHA. able to see a true glance from those eyes, because thou hast excluded from tbee the sunJiglrt of those eyes, by thy unwor- thiness, thy severity ; thou hast built up a granite wall between that eye and thine own. Thou fool ! which seest the mote in thy neighbor's eye and perceivest not the beam which is in thiue own, accuse thyself, and become different to what thou art ! That soul is cold, thousayest. What if she be merely true and honest towards herself and thee ? Better, nobler is it that she show herself as she is, than that she should dissran- ble an aflfedtion, act a lie by appearing agreeable to thee, when she neither does nor can feel so. Esteem and love win not come at call. They must be Won. Attachment to Yngve's gentle mother, as well as to her young sisters, were the light in Hertha's domestic life, and toy degrees a fresh light dawoed in that active employment, of which "we. have spoken, and which gave new life to her soul. During the three years which Herthq, devoted to thosei pre- paratory studies which she herself considered absolutely neces- sary, before bringing into operation the educational institute which it was her intention to establish, she was fortunate enough to become acquainted with two men of more tha.n ordi- nary knowledge and elevation of mind. They had become attached to her as brothers, and imparted to her the wealth of their own large views and practical knowledge, than which nothing could be more valuable to her, whilst they themselves were,' in a high degree, benefited by the noble spirit and life of this extraordinary young woman. Hertha came to expe- rience that which she, who now traces the history of her life, also has experienced, and* which will ever live in her grateM memory as one of her most precious human experiences, fta* however unfavorable the laws and spirit of society may be to the full development of woman, yet that it sddom, if ever hap- pened, that a woman, gifted with any unusual powers of mind or gifts of genius, does not sooner or later find manly friends who faithfully oflPer theit hands to help her to attain the object towards which her natural gifts prompt her. It is another qttestion whether this exrtension of help can eveir SEVEN YEABS. 305 become suffieient, "whether it does not always come too late, or is of necessity too partial to admit of her full development. "No one," wrote Mozart, on one occasion, to a dilettante music-composer, " can ever, after aU,, become a master, who has not already from childhood had experience of the master's ' donnerwetter^ and the discipline of the school." Certain it is, that technical certainty, clear insight into means and purposes as well as the appUcation of our own powers, are not obtained without early, sure guidance, long practice and trial. Help- less deficiency g,dheres even to genius which has been long left to guide itself in the wide world by its own wiU. Hertha, with deep sorrow, soon discovered all this ; dis- covered with what helpless deficiency she would have to com- bat in herself, before she could accomplish her. purpose. Her courageous spirit, however, admonished her steadfastly to persevere towards the object which she had set before herself. "There are subjects, after all," said she to herself, " on which I can give instructions to young light-seeking souls, better than even the most learned men." In the mean time it soon became evident to her that, in order to render her plan effective, it must be carried out in a form more in accordance with the views and the point of sight from which the circle in which she moved looked at things. To accompUsh even tMs, her position in the family, as regarded money and her father's peculiar temper, compelled her to endeavor, by her own labor, to obtain the means of putting her plans in execution. Many of our young readers have doubtless wondered already why Hertha did not endeavor, by means of authorship, to acquire this needftil independence. But Hertha knew that she was not possessed of the necessary, gifts for this purpose ; she did not write as a matter of choice ; she talked better than she wrote. Action and life were the springs of her inspiration; it was when in Uving contact with other souls that her own soul felt and extended its wings. Besides — ^but we will let her speak for herself in some of the entries in her diary : " May 1st, 18 — . ' I have determined to commence a. week- 306 HERTHA. day school, or Pension, as it is qpilled, where young girls shall be taught everything which is considered especially necessary for them in this world ; that is to say, languageis, history, geo- graphy, needlework, drawing, music, etc. ; all of which are umquestionahly good ; and this school will aid me in carrying out my plan for the other higher school, devoted to the exercises of the soul and the powers of mind ; but Which I thiak of styling ' Practices in Language and Conversation,' in order not to awaken any ' uneasiness in the camp,' or any suspicion of any schemes of emancipation. The week-day school, in which I shall be assisted by a male and femailfei teacher, will assemble every day. The higher, holiday-school, for the practice of language and conversation, only twice in the week; and only voluntary or select pupils shall be admitted to it. The entrance to the former school shall be by payment ; to the latter only by Love to the.Etemal. "In the mean time I must have some money to provide a store of books and materials for the week-day school, and for this I must go to my father. . I shall beg him to let me have the small sum of interest due upon my maternal inheritance.- I will only ask for that which is my own, and as a means of providing a future competence ; nevertheless, I have a bitter presentiment that I shall be refused. But I must make the attempt. Alas, that the making of a reasonable request to a father should be felt as a something dreadful ! " " May 3rd. My presentiment was right. I received a negar tive reply. ' Such were unnecessary estabhshments,' he said, ' and served only to make girls fuU of pretension, unpractical, and useless at home,' etc. etc. ' There was, besides, already a girls' school in the town, and that was more than enough. Another could not support itself ' It was the duty of a guardian,' he said, ' to see that the minor's property was not misapphed, but that, on the contrary, it was augmented by the interest being added to the principal, and that such duty he would fulfil, so long as it lay in his power.' ' I- could do just as I liked about the school, but I must not look to him for aqy money.' SEVEN TEAES. 307 " I have now written, tliere|bre, to. Judge Carlson, and asked him for a loan. It is very repugnant to my feelings to do so, hut it is my only- resource. I shall see whether he will keep his promise. " ' Cannot you grind ?' I, on one occasion, heard a witt^, elderly lady say, with a cunning smUe, to another, who com- plained that she could not get her husband to perform a promise which he had given her. And there is, I know, a certain grinding in the house, a perpetual recurrence of reminding, bothering, worrying, which, with the addition of black looks, tears, or cold, cutting words and looks, is able to overcome the stoutest resistance, and give such as are clever in this art an incalculable power of obtaining whatever they wish for. But another thing I know also, and that is, that I neither can nor will avail myself of such ways and means. The royal way of love and truth is the only one which I will take. And the society or the house in which the object is attained less easily by this means than by subterranean or crooked ways, has something wrong in it." • '■'■May loth. May the noble Judge Carlson forgive me for having, for one moment, doubted of his chivalrous spirit : may he forgive me for not having entitely relied upon his friend- ship and his promise ! He has now, both by word and deed, proved himself my friend. Father in heaven! this is Thy work, and thy bringing about ! Henceforth I will alone look up to Thee for help and counsel ; alone follow Thy guidance ! Thou wilt stand by me. And now, henceforward — thencefor- ward prayer and work !" In the autunm of the same year Hertha wrote : '■'■November \st. My week-day school flourishes greatly; more pupils offer themselves than I expected. It gives me a great deal of work, and not of the kind which I love ! I can- not begin my holiday-school till the new year." Early in the year we accordingly find the following entry in Hertha's Diary : " January 1 %th. I have begun my lessons in language and conversation with some of the elder girls, by the reading of 308 HBETHA. Sophocles' Antigone ; that glorious woman, who, faithftil both by word and deed to the law of conscience and duty, defies the strong command of the tyrant, the slavish usages of society, her sister's timid counsel, and even the prayers of her beloved, and stands fast in death, appealing to which. The lav infallible ; unwritten law supreme. From to-day dates not, nor yet &om yesterday; but From eternity, the moment known to no man ; She who, with all youth and womanhood's deep feeling of the glory of life, and natural horror of the fearful death which she knew lay before her, if she persisted in the, defiance of injus- tice, yet still persevered, stiU Stood firm, and although, in her last moment, half doubting even the justice of the Gods, doubted not the voice of truth in the depth of her own con^ science, but in entire self-consciousness accused her father's city, because she had to sufier and die for having — Held that as sacred which in-truth is sacred. " This glorious image of the heroine of conscience, may lead my young girls to understand more fully the ideal of the Christian woman, not merely (as is now so commgn) one- sided in humility, which so easily becomes slavish, but also in heroism. " I read this tragedy of Sophocles in the "G-erman translation for the sake of the language, and we afterwards conversed on what we had read. I have encouraged the young people to write down their thoughts on this subject before our next meeting. It will exercise them in thinking on topics which give strength to the moral being." " March \st. We have finished the reading of Antigone, and I am pleased with the result of this experiment. Among the ten young girls who attend my holiday-school, are some %■■ SEVEN TEAKS. 309 who have received a lasting impression from this reading ; all have in some degree become elevated by it, and their inward sight has beoonie clearer. " Aurora, whose character and natural gifts impel her to a strong demonstration of her feelings, and who certainly will sometime be distinguished (if she can develope herself) as an artist or a poetess, has learned from Antigone to disregard minor inspirations and petty conquests. She wiU allow herself to be inspired alone by the Sun. " Eva and Mweia, those I)geria-natures, who would rather live concealed in the sacred grove from which they whisper the pure teaohiogs of wisdom into the listener's ear, have learned from Antigone faith in arid dependence upon them- selves or upon the inner voice, which reveals itself during the intercourse with God. *' Martha, the prosaic and prslbtical nature, has learned that with her more earthly gifts and power she also may become a servant of the Highest." Here follows a description of the talents and dispositions of many other young girls ; but as it would not greatly interest the reader, we pass it over, and introduce two later entries in the diary, by which it will be seen how Hertha's plan arranged itself and cleared up before her mind's eye. In May she wrote as follows : — " We shall now undertake exercises in the French and English languages, the purport of which shall be the contem- plation of the womanly Christian consciousness in relation to a certain given mission or vocation in society, through pecu- liar gifts or calling. The biography of noble and distinguish- ed women, either celebrated or known but of few, will serve as the text for our contemplation. " The consciousness of thought ought to be a living obser- vation and will. Biography is excellent for this purpose. " This wUl. be preparatory to Conversations on Society. We will contemplate in their mutual relationship, families, communities, states, arts, sciences, and finally the Church, as the 'mother, xmder whose protection these various Umbs 310 HEETHA. grow into one body and one soul in the kingdom of God — ih^ highest community, in which every natural gift is ennobled.to a gift of mercy. The most noble heroes of femilyTlove, of Sppial-love (that is of humanity), of art and science, will en- lighten us in our endeavor to understand the importance of each in life, and in the extension of the kingdom of God on earth. " The conversation on Society will lead us to its innermost life and guiding power — ^Religion. Read : General history of ■ Religion ; the biography of the various founders of Religion. The relationship of. natural religion, so called, to revealed ; its light, its darkness, its insuflSoienoy to solve the enigma of existence, to answer the requireinents and the questionings of the human heart. The doctiiaes of the Christian religion : God in Christ. The history of Jesus Chiist. " The ideal and the reality 8f society. The Christian work of redemption in the soul and in the world. " Woman's part in the work ; her peculiar vocation and position in society. Her character, her duties, her rights. Her vocation as Mothbk, or nurse, or whatever else she may be. Her power as such influential. Without Egeriac, no Numa. . ' "Woman in Sweden. Her position, past and present. Swedish women in the history of their country. The future of the Swedish woman, and her influence on the future of Sweden. " My young girls must learn to think highly of their native land, highly of their own mission, but not, therefore, highly of themselves. They must ever look above themselves, who are to grow continually. " Read the Vala-Song. Its last prediction, the renewal of > the heavens, the education of the new human race, ' bom of the morning dew,' in the sacred grove, can only be accom-' plished by the second Eve, the woman bom anew in God. " Natural history, in its more profound relationship to human life, must also become a subject for the Conversation- lessons of the hoUday school, when — Yngve comes home, an^- SBTBN YEAES. Sll can teach and help me to initiate the young girls into its sanc- tuai-y." " June. — Intercourse with these young souls is like a refresh- ing vernal breeze to my soul ; it is beautiful to see the light of dawn in them, and to anticipate a fuller day in their life ! " If I could surround them with noble and beautiful objects in the hoUday-sohool, their consecration to the high and the holy would be powerfully promoted. We shaR see I I some- times think of fitting up the orangery,* which is now quite empty, as a room — such as I see in my waking dreams. A statue of the northern goddess of youth, Iduna, stands in the centre, — around, on pedestals, busts of the heroes of humani- ty ; at the farther end the statue of Christ, after Thorwaldsen, the best which I have yet seen ; for the rest a few good pictm-es, and beautiful plants ; 'and amid all these the young human souls who will here advance in the worship and service of the Divine ! Oh, if it could only be so ! Even the Chi-istian temple has a gate which is called ' the Beautiful !' " '•'•JvAy. — The summer is glorious this year. I take my young gu-ls out in the woods and the fields ; it is refreshing to both soul and body. "We botanise together, and I talk with them of theu' relationship with nature, and of the life of nature, 'the sighs of the animal creation,'' and its explanation in a ' new heaven and a new earth.' Read with them beneath the great ash-trees, our deep-thoughted northern legends, of the Neck, the HiU-people, '&c., from the Swedish Sagas. " Our Conversation-lessons have, during these beautiM evenings, been held in the open air. There we have read the Northern Mythology, and have contemplated the truth in its scenes and symbols. In the evening the girls danced on the grass, and it was a delight to see fresh, hfe-enjoying youth, thus rejoice in and beautify nature. All educational institu- tions for girls ought to be in the country. • A large room with lofty ■windows, which extended froki -one end of the house at KuUen. 312 HSBTHA. " I have written to Yngve about my schools, and my future plans regarding them. His letters always strengthen and encourage me, but they distress me at the same time, beoausie he is evidently not happy, although he never complains. Oh, Yngve ! neither do I repose upon roses !" Towards the close of the year we find this entry : "I am very weary after many sleepless nights spent in preparation for the examination of the week-day pupils, wind- ing up the accounts of the year, &c., together with the fear, the conviction that little or no profit will accrue to me, after paying off the loan and other expenses. My holiday-school will have to wait a long time for the beautifiil hall. . " Yngve, Yngve ! my soul cries after thee. I can dispense with marriage, but not with thy presence, thy sympathy; not with the joy of seeing thee, of attending to thy happiness, my friend, brother, Husband before Godl Something within my soul tells me that thou standest in need of me, of my care, my love. It is midnight, all are sleeping around me, — ^my heart wakes, and .thinks, Yngve, of thee !" "iVeia Yearns Day. A letter from Yngve, and in it a bill of exchange. Yngve says that he wiQ pay for his mother's board in niy father's house. But so much, Yngve I much more than — ^but I understand thee, and am no longer proud towards thee. I will do as thou wishest, Yngve, with regard to the beautiful hall, — ^the Iduna-haU, as it shall henceforth be called, — and a couple of youths shall be admitted to its school in memory of thee, " I have also had a letter from Rudolph to-day, and a small sum of money ' for the sufiferers by the fire,' writes he. Poor Rudolph !" In the following autumn Hertha wrote : " My holiday-school begins to be celebrated, Yngve, and is visited by some distinguished ladies and men of great intel- lect, who take an interest ia it. It pleases me on account of my young girls, to whom it is beneficial to listen to the thoughts an^ conversation of the visitors. Yet it is a restraint on their cheerfulness, and for this reason I receive these large SEVEN TEAES. 313 parties but once a ■week. Besides Quriosity attracts many to the Iduna-hall, who have.no fresh, life-giving fruits to commu- njicate. And, let it te as it may, the young ones and I are happier -by ourselves. The bashful Eva, my thoughtful, quiet Maria, and Aurora, overflowing with life, as she is, are never quite themselves excepting at such times. Aurora has yet to acquire ease and tact, but she has unusual powers both of head and heart ; she is the only one of my young girls who betrays genius. The youths were uncertain and bashful at the com- mencement, but they are beginning now to exhibit themselves in a beautiful light, and they seem to be happy amongst us. I feel for them, as for the girls, a maternal tenderness, and it is delightful to me to see their confidence in me. " A few days ago a young man called on me, who had once been my protector when I stood in need of one. He now wished for the situation of tutor in my week-day-school, and I , was fortunate enough to be able to give it to him; for this school also must be extended to receive aU the pupils which are offered. Olof E. is a young man of noble character, and will be a support to the day-school and a welcome participator in' our evisning conversations. " Last evening the Conversation in the Iduna-hall was unu- sually animated, I might say brilliant. It was my great recep- tion evening, and I proposed 'The Right Comprehension of Liberty of Conscience' as the subject of conversation. The handsome Mrs. N. spoke in a manner which astonished me and animated aU. Ingeborg Hedermann expressed' liberal and excellent .sentiments. The young were silent; but I saw beaming glances from the eyes of several. Judge Carlson was present, and spoke judiciously and nobly on the subject of liberty of conscience with reference to religion. I carefully 14 314 HBETHA. kept the conversation to the general subject, avoiding all ■ reference to the circumstances of our country. Such refer- ence will come of itself." Hertha's diary during the' following three years exhibits an increasing development, both of her own mind and her \- plans. In the spring of 18 — , she wrote : " Tngve ! if I could now conduct thee into the Iduna-hall — for now it is coifiplete — show thee the statue of our noble, grave, and yet mild Scandinavian goddefss of youth, surrounded by laurels and blossoming roses, and the yet more elevated one of Him, who stands with extended arms inviting the whole human race to his redeeming embrace ; and, ranged around, busts of noble and wise men, who glance forth from between evergreen trees — thou' wouldst then rejoice, my Yngve, because this is thy and my joint work. A handsome eoUeetion of books, thy books among the rest, and some good pictures, complete the ornament of the hall. It is ,'?. beautiful, and cheerful, and rich in instruction; a fitting home for young, pure, and upward-striving souls. . Oh, if I could only, beyond everything tilse, see thee, Yngve, among the flock of young creatures that assemble around me ; hear thee speak to them and teach them, as thou in former times taughtest me ! When will that hour come ? ' " Wilt thou know me agaiil, my Tngve ? I am much aged, and I grow rapidly older each day that I spend in the week- day-school, and by every sleepless night which it costs me. Nevertheless I take care of my outward being as I never did in my youth. In those days I was too proud to wish to please by my physical T, and' too unhappy in my own soul to trouble myself about my body..- Now I take care of it, and adorn it that I may .please — ^my pupils; that I may produce such an impression upon them as is no way at variance with the pur- pose of my holiday-school in the IdunarhaU ; I desire, even I, to produce a beautifiil, or at least an ennobling impression ; and for this purpose I consult my own taste and my mirror, as weH as silently an — absent friend : fashion, on the contrary, I SEVEN TEARS. 315 regard very little, beiig; only careful not very much to offend against it. Every person vi^^ho has a decided individuality of character, which is stamped upon the exterior, ought to dress as much as possible in conformity with it; " My young friends flatter me : call me beautiful ; and if I do sometimes appear so, it is because the brightness of their glances and of their youthful souls is reflected back upon me." It was inevitable, but that Hertha's conversations and other "schemes" and "undertakings," as Mrs. Uggla termed them, would caU* forth many kinds of opinion^ and sometimes not very favorable ones, in KungskOping and its neighborhood. The meetiogs in the Iduna^-hall TV'ere regarded by many with Suspicion ; there was no use in them, people said, and they were afraid of the new and unsettled opinions which were there propounded ; afraid of the young people being led away by great thoughts of themselves, pretensions, and so on. But the enthusiastic devotion of the young people themselves ^'towards their maternal iastructor and friend, carried her tri- umphantly through every attempt to depreciate her influence,* and every doubt of her sound and salutary teachings. And when fathers and mothers saw their young daughters develope -fehfemselves, not merely in outward grace and the ability to acquire knowledge, but also in nobility and sweetness of cha- racter, under Hertha's guidence,4hey permitted them to follow It stm fiirther. Many parents also candidly acknowledged her merits with regard to their children. As far as the children themselves were concerned, they looked up to Hertha as to a being of higher order. She stood amongst ' them like the frttitfiil mother-tree of the Banana above a group of young offshoots which spring up at its ffeet. Every one of the disci- ples called her by her name, and addressed her as thau, ; her relationship"to each individual was of a deep personal kind ; her keen but warmly affectionate glance rested on all of them with a fostering power. At the same time she was never fon- dling and weak, her maternal tenderness was of much higher character. SI 6 HEETHA. • "I have now seen 'the Sibyl,'" wrote a young man, when describing her, " and have a,lso been present at some of her 'Conversations.' She is a Christian Vala; her inspirations breathe forth a sentiment kindred to that of every nobly beat- ing heart. I confess that I did not, in the first instance, meet her without a prejudice, and that I went rather in a criti- cal spirit than vnUing to learn. But she has conquered me by the effect produced by her soul's attitude, if I may so speak, with regard to the highest truth. Her beaming eyes, her simple but imposing demeanor, her voice, Jier gestures, her silence, her words. Thus, her whole being has produced upon me an uneffaceable impression, and has awoke in me a love to the true and the noble, which will henceforth guide me through the world's twilight, or ignes fatui. She must produce, an elevating effect upon every one who is not in soul a dwarf or a mole. She is not handsome, but still there is a picturesque beauty in her noble bearing, her simple but dignified costume, and I — should have fallen in love with her if I had dared." " You wish to know something about her appearance, her dress, her manners, &c.," wrote one of Hertha's elder pupils ■to one of her friends. " She dresses generally in snow-white muslin, made up to the throat, and which, entirely without starch, falls in soft rich folds around . her beautiful figure, — sometimes also she wears agate-colored silk, — a black mantle, of velvet in winter, and lace in summer, is worn on the shoulders; with a small white lace collar round the neck. Her rich, gold-colored hair, which grows naturally in soft wavy masses, is turned back from the temples, showing the beautiful growth and the etherially branching veins ; so that the glorious countenance, with .those wonderfully beaming eyes, is presented freely and clearly. The hair simply platte^ behind, is fastened low on the neck, as we see in antique busts. She wears neither rings nor bracelets, for her hands and arms need them not, nor any ornament whatever, not even a flower. SEVEN YEAES. 317 Frequently however will she gather from the flowers in the hall and adorn our heads with them, for she loves to see us well and tastefully dressed, according to our age; but she cannot bear to see us wearing firre jewelry, or colors which do not harmonize with each other, and any fault in taste or arrangement she always notices. She wishes that the out- ward human being should express the harmony of the soul ; but not according to old ' ma bonne's' notions that we should be all ' one like another,' but that every one should endea\ or to be entirely herself,-in a nobler manner, ' as God has willed it.' And I confess that I take more pains to please her in my exterior, than I ever did to please any man. She herself at- tracts us by her own demeanor towards the noble and the beautiful, so that not many words are required to awaken in us a yearning after"' the same. It comes with her to us, as of itself, in the Iduna-haU. She looks so stately, and, if I may so say, highborn, that one, at the beginning, feels oneself quite small beside her ; one shrinks as it were, but when she begins to speak, when she looks on us, then there is in her something so tender and maternal, that one is raised up by it, and one seems, as it were, to begin to grow; — and that one does really, at least in aspiration, after the good and the true, and in desire to attain them. There are times when I feel a longing to lay my head on her knee, and let her see my whole soul so that she may enlighten it, and lift it upwards ! " " Life and its purposes seem so great in the light where- with she enlightens them, and yet nevertheless the smallest thing, of natural endowment, disposition, or action, acquires a significance and value in this light. The whole of Kfe becomes clear to us in her glance. Many persons consider her to be stern. But I and all my young friends, are profoundly acquainted with her goodness. To many of us she is more than a mother, taking care of our bodies, as of our souls, our health, our ftiture, our happiness. Her sisters almost worship her ! " It was thus that the young regarded her. We have,already seen the state of Hertha's own soul whilst she, developing her- 318 HEETHA. self 80 beatttifully, labored for others. Unliappy she was not, yet neither was she happy. The week-day-school was a continual strain upon her mind, and was by no means a satisfactory labor. The parents were often stupid and unreasonable, and either could not or would not understand what was best in the education of their chil- dren. And besides thisj she had incessantly to combat with the small worries of every-day life. Within herself too, she struggled, and not always successfully, against the bitterness which her father's want of integrity towards her, awoke in her soul, together with his increasing, parsimony in the house. But more than all, she suffered from the unspeakable tenderness and anxiety which she felt for Yngve, as his letters betrayed more and more the cruel want which he felt of her and of a home, and as it became more and more evident to her that his health was suffering in copsequence. He wrote less frequently, and a certain painful depression was often perceptible in his letters, however rich they might otherwise be in the life of affection and thought. It was an mnderstood thing between the two friends, that if aHy change took place in the mind of the Chief Director with respect to themselves, Hertha should lose no time in making it known to Ynigve, and that he should then immediately return. But year after year had gone on and no change had occurred which would justify Hertha in recalling Yngve. Seven years had thus passed since the day when they plighted to each other their faith in life and in death, and had been obliged to part, and Hertha was now no longer young. At this time came anpther of these letters from Yngve, which, vnthout uttering a complaint, nevertheless caused Hertha to press her hand upon her heart, as if she felt there an agonising pain, whilst the tears slowly filled those sorrowful eyes, which seemed to gaze into distance. After this letter she sate down and wrote : "Yngve, come home! Come home, beloved friend! I caanot bear any longer to be separated from you, to see you suffer and to experience in myself, because you suffer, feelings SEVEN TEAES. 319 wMcli are like pangs of conscience. For I see, Yngve, thought you do not say so, that you are ill, both soul and body. Oh ! come back, and let me once more be your physician ; it will make me also young again, and God wiU once more bless what you once called my ' power of healing.' "I have nothing new to tell you, as regards my home; everything remains unaltered as far as my father is concerned ; or if either looks darker, more impossible, because his temper is evidently more morose of late,-;rbut still, stiU I say, ' Yngve, come home !' A presentiment, an inexplicable presentiment, a trembling but delicious presentiment tells me that we soon, soon shall be united to part no more. This Ufe is short, and come back, beloved Tngve ! Your mother prays for this with your " Heetha." To this summons Yngve replied by fixing the time for his return; the exact day he could only state on his return to Sweden. In about six weeks he would be there. From the moment that Hertha with certainty could look forward to Yngve's return, a quiet peace and joy settled don^. in her soul. During the spring-hfe which the thought of this gave birth to in her whole being, a new youth, as it were, blossomed within her. The beautiful fgrm, which had seemed somewhat to stoop and become attenuated, resumed its rounded contour ; everything about her seemed to become brighter, — even the temper of her father, who, now that his daughter no Ipnger needed money from him, but almost entirely furnished the house-keeping funds from her own means, ceased to inter- fere with her private affairs. Yngve's gentle mother, whose increasing weakness evi- dently showed that she was not long for this world, revived anew in the prospect of her beloved son's return, and she had now no other wish than to live to see hirii united to Hertha, the daughter of her heart. Whilst Hertha's home exhibits this cheerful aspect, and she herself awaits Yngve's return with a throbbing heart, and 320 HEBTHA. assisted by her young sisters arranges everything in the house , as beautifully and charmingly as possible for his welcome, -we will give ourselves a moment's repose, and inquire after old friends and acquaintances at Kungskoping, and see what changes seven years have made amongst them. The last time, that we and our readers made a round of calls in Kungskoping, they may remember that we found Ingeborg XJggla and Doctor Hedermann together, and he (the wicked Dr.) caused her a sleepless night pondering about " the question " which he had to ask her. As we have an especial little fliendship for Ingeborg we will betake ourselves first to her in our round of inquiries at Kungsk5ping, TALK UNDER AN UMBRELLA. QUBSTIONS ABOUT A DROMEDARY. After tlie evening's conversations which we have already related in our " short visits," Dr. Hedermann remained absent from Ingeborg's home for several days. She began to fancy that he had forgotten her, and the question which he wished to ask, and this grieved her more than she was willing to con-, fess even to herself. She was therefore glad to dissipate her uneasy feelings by active employment. And this she found daUy in the so-called " Children's Dormitory," which had been instituted by the doctor immediately after the fire, and placed under Ligeborg's charge. Thither went Ingeborg daily, whilst her mother sighed over all those new-fashioned under- takings which converted young ladies into servant maids, " and prevented all good matches " in the world. ^ One day Ligeborg went to her "Children's Dormitory" without observing that the sky looked threatening and cloudy, and therefore without an umbi'ella. When she reached the children's home, it began both to rain and snow. She ordered a fire to be lighted, and let the small creatures gather round it. She took up a little weeping child, which probably missed its own mother's loving care, and walked up and down the room with it, softly rocking it in her arms ; and on her warm bosom it soon was hushed. •The 'fire burned and crackled cheerfully ; the little children chattered and played merrily oh the floor in its blaze, and the little fellow slept sweetly, restmg his head on Ingeborg's breast. The cheerful comfort of the time stole into her heart. She felt with joy what it was which would help her to ojr.etv 14* 322 HERTHA. come all its disquietude ; silently thanked God, and clasped "with still deeper feeling the little slumberer more closely ia her arms. " Childless, and yet a mother," whispered she to herself; and whilst tears, not of pain, fell upon the sleeping little one, she softly sang— words which the moment and her own feelings imnroTised— Though I without husband or children may live, A mother I still may be, For the friend of all children, the Saviour, may give His friendless, poor children to me I Thus sang Ingehorg softly to herself, castmg every now and then an inquiring glance at thq window, against which pattered »the dOwn-pouriag rain, and remembering that she had not brought an imibreUa with her, and that her mother wotdd soon be expecting her home to dinner. But her uneasiness was soon relieved, for, as good luck had it, she saw Dr. He- dermann coming up the street with S, large umbrella, and pr^esently both he and the umbrella were in the room. The children set up a shout of joy, sprang forward to meet him, and clung round his knees. He gave a fiiendly recognition to fngeborg, set his umbrella down in a comer, and seated him- self before the fire, whilst, with evident enjoyment, he per- mitted the children to climb his knees, his arms, his shoulders, and there perform every kind of evolution. Of Ingeborg he took no further notice, nor said a word to her. But when, after having laid the little one from her arms upon the bed, and had some conversation with the woman who had the charge of the establishment, she was ready to go hisime, the doctor hastily shook himself free of his young swarm, with a good-natured slap right and left, and rising up,, let them all tumble helter-skelter around him. He then to'ok up his great umbrella, and, without a word, followed Ingeborg out. Away went both through the pelting rain, and the doctor held his umbrella over Ingeborg. TALK UmOKR AN UMBEEIXA. 323 " I am afraid that you will be wet on my account, Dr. He- dermann," said Ingeborg, casting an uneasy glance at the • doctor's wet left shoulder. The doctor made no answer, nor yet altered the position of the umbrella, and Ingeborg, with a beating heart, had a pre- sentiment that the important question was coming. At length he spoke and said : " I have a question to put to you, Miss Ingeborg, but — will you give me a true, honest answer ?" " Yes, certainly, as far as I can," replied Ingeborg, with an anxiety which was evident in her voice. " Very well," continued he gravely. " Tell me, then, is it true that you — laughed at me and turned me into ridicule with your young friends ?" After a pause, Ingeborg repHed : " Yes-^-it is true — ^but— it ^ was many years ago." " Is it true," continued the doctor as before, " that you called me a dromedary or a camel ? I don't remember which of the' two animals ?" " Yes, it is true," again said Ingeborg, with burning cheeks and eyes full of tears ; " but. Dr. Hedermann, it was not out of mahce, but from thoughtless, gu-Ush gaiety, called forth by a something peculiar in your carriage and manner when you first came to the town. If you only knew how often, since then, I have been ashamed of that stupid talk, such as young gu-ls often indulge in, merely for the sake of a little laughter, or to say something which they think is amusing, how I have repented of it, you would forgive me, and not think ill of me, nor con- sider me ungrateful, because I then — did not know you — did not " Ingeborg could not finish what she would say, because of her tears. " I don't think very badly of you," said the doctor, in a low voice ; " I think it was very natural that a young, pretty, and indulged girl should consider a great shaggy figure like me laughable, and " "But" interrupted Ingeborg earnestly, "I was then a - 324 HEBTHA. thoughtless, worldly child, and could not judge of people, could not understand " Again poor. Ingeborg was unable to proceed. " I believe you," said the doctor, " and now^-now we are changed, judge differently — eh ?" " Yes, very differently !" was all Ingeborg could reply. " I believe you,?' said he again, " and I thank you. Miss Ingeborg, for having so candidly answered my questions. And now we are at your home, and you must go and dress for the great ball at X. this evenktg." " No, we are not going there ; my mother has consented to let us stay at home." ■ " Then you wUl be at home, this evening ?" "Yes." • , ". Will you see anybody ?"■ , " " If any friend comes he will be welcome." " Do you regard me"as a Mend ?" ,;< " Yes, one of the best ; especially since you have asked me this question." "Indeed! Well, but— if I had yet another question to ask you?, But I will reserve that till evening." "And you are no longer angry with me ; you don't believe , me any longer to be one of those * fine false souls,' unworthy, ungrateful ^" " I'll tell you what I think of you — in the evening," said he, and left Ingeborg with a look which betrayed neither anger nor ypt an unforgiving spirit. ANOTHER QUESTION, In the evening, the yery same evening on which the great ball was given, to which Ingeborg and her mother were invit- ed, Mrs. Uggla sat in her small, handsomely furnished draw- ing-room, shaking herself in her arm-chair, with her snuff-box in her hand, and a most mournful expression of countenance, contemplating her daughter, who sat at a little work-table, busy hemming cojirse towels. The coarse work contrasted with the delicate white hand, which flew over it in the rapid movement of the needle, with the' elegant needlewoman herself, and the room in which she sate, which was splendidly furnished with the addition of many small needless articles of luxury, and of which the temperature was almost too warm, whilst it agreeably breathed forth the fragrance of " Eau de Portugal," which Mrs. Uggla kept near her in a scent- bottle. Mrs. Uggla sate and looked at her daughter, sighed and' took snuff, and thought of the extraordinary times in which we live, which make young ladies of good family, like maid- servants, and let them hem coarse towels instead of doing elegant embroidery and beautiful w3yk, and which now caus- ed Ingeborg to sit there with red eyes, making no figure at all, instead of, like the other young ladies of the town, look- ing brilliant in their ball-dresses, ready for the great ball at X. Mrs. Uggla sighed deeply, looked at " Ingeborg, and thought ; " she'U never make a good match I It is all over for that, now !' At that very moment a ring was heard at the door. "Who can that be?" said Mrs. Uggla, annoyed, "it must be some beggar or other." '326 HEETHA. But it was Dr. Hedermann, one of the persons whom Mrs. Uggla liked best to see in the world, but who was never accustomed to visit her at. this time of day. "When she had expressed her astonishment and delight at this visit, the doctor said : — " I found it was so excessively stupid to sit , at home "by myself, that I thought I -would come here and see whether I could have any supper with you. But if you will have me you must let me have pancakes for supper." There are people who are always welcome ; and if Mrs. Uggla had received a grand present, she could hardly have been better pleased than by this request of the doctor, be- cause Mrs. Uggla had at the bottom a true Swedish house- wife's heart, and to this nothing is more welcome, nothing gives greater delight, than to entertain a friend. She there- fore rose up with unusual alacrity to give orders for supper, and to have pancakes baked. Dr. Hedermann seated himself opposite Ingeborg, and ask- ' -ed her to lay aside her work, saying in a voice which betrayed deep emotion : " You answered my question so honestly this morning, Miss Ingeborg, that it gives me courage to come forward with ano- ther, which may seem foolhardy enough, — ^but still, in any case, I am certain that you will give me an honest and true answer." Ingeborg felt unable either to answer or to look up. But ' when the doctor seemed to be waiting' for her, reply, she said : — ^ "Well? The question?" " Can you like me ?" Ingeborg let fall her work and looked at him with her clear, honest eyes, and as she replied ; " Yes, that I can." " Fancy me, as ^your husband ?" " Yes," Said Ingeborg, as before. "Is it possible— — is it actually possibler?" said the doctor, astonished and affected ; "but I must believe it when you ANOTHBE QUESTION. 327 ' nay the deuce ! — ^I shall say thou, ever after this — when thou tellest me so, and lookest at me with those eyes, and my bless- ed, sweet Ingeborg, I would tell thee how happy it makes me, but — ^hang me ! — I can't do it !" And the doctor took In- geborg's hand and pressed it to his lips, to his tearful eyes, and held it between his two great hands, as he con- tinued : "Look you, child, it is a wonderful thing, a very wonderful thing that such a great, rough sort of fellow as I am, should yet always have taken a fancy to fine ladies, should have Uked their society, and have had pleasure in the elegances with which they surround themselves, and yet which I my- self would not give a pinch of snuff for, when I look at the thing for itself. But now that has been my weakness, and whenever I have thought of a wife, I have looked about for a woman as delicate as a real pearl, set in gold, but yet at the same time a true human being in heart and deed, who could put up with the rough as well as preserve the smooth , in life. I became several years ago in love with such a pearl set in gold, I loved her a,lmost to adoration. She allowed herself to be worshipped by me, then made a fool of me behind my back, with another lover as fine and false as she was. When I first discovered this, I became ill, then an- j gry, afterwards bitter, and afraid of elegant, fine ladies ; I suspected them altogether of beiag false, and became an ene- my to them — excepting when I became their physician. • And when I fell in love with you. Miss Ingeborg, pretty nearly fifteen years ago, I revenged myself on your and on my *own weakness by finding fault with you, until the time when you had that affection of the eyes ; then I saw a something in the depth of those eyes, a something which affected me, and made me tender-hearted. I fancied that I saw there an angel with imprisoned wings, glancing forth with hea- venly serenity from the mists which sought to dim its coun- tenance. I did not believe what I had seen, did ifpt believe my own feelings, until the reaUty of youi: life convinced me that you were the woman whom I sought, fine as a true 328 HEBTHA. pearl set in gold, and at the same time a real human being in heart and in deed, an angel in goodness, a noble, truth- ful -woihan ; and the only thing that I now wonder at is, that I actually, have found such a one, and that such a "wo- man can actually take a fancy to and like me !" " Oh Dr. Hedermann I" " Call me David, and say thou to me, or I will run away !" " If thou didst but know," resumed Ingeborg, with quiet tears, " how much more (wonderful it seems to me that thou canst hke me, who was so deceitful, so full of faults, and besides no longer young." " Toung enough for me," said the doctor. " Thou art ten years younger than I am, and a thousand times more lovely in iny eyes now than before. And it is to me most difficult to comprehend how thoii really canst like me !" "But do you then believe me still to be a thoughtless, giddy girl ?" said Ingeborg, cheerfully ; " let me then tell you how you — I beg pardon, thou didst convert me. When 1 had ^ that sad affection of the eyes, which threatened to produce blindness, and thou wast my physician, I was so deeply affected by thy kindness, thy care for me ; and when I owed the restoration of my sight to thee, I saw in thy eyes that which I never forgot. Thy conversation, thy example, thy whole life became beacons to me and helped me by degrees to free myself from the fetters wherewith custom, and ray good mother')^ mstaken tenderness, had bound me to the mere emptiness of life. I never loved it ; I hunlgered and thirsted after something better, but knew not what, untU thou showedst me the way. Since then I have silently followed thee as far as I was able, but without any hope of being able to overtake thee, often made unhappy by thy bitterness and mistrust of me, but yet more happy in the new duties which thou hast pointed out to me in a life for others, than I had ever before been for a moment, whilst I lived merely for my- self." . " And thou art not afraid of a life of labor with me, Inge- borg ? For will not conceal from thee, that I regard myself AJSrOTHBB QUESTION. 329 as one of our Lord's "humble stewards on earth, and all that I have obtained from him of spiritual or physical good, I must employ in his service ; I do not like spending money in din- ners-and expensive wines, and 'such' unnecessaries, but desire to Hye a simple, frugal life, as one of our father's laborers on earth. Art thou not afraid of this, Ingeborg ? Thou art not accustomed to it." " I shall soon become so, if thou consider me worthy to share it with thee." " And thou canst fully trust thyself to me ? — -1 am snappish and odd sometimes — ^very queer-tempered, — say cutting things —wilt thou not be afraid of me ?" " If I am so, I shall tell thee." " But if I get angry, unreasonable ?" "Then I shall try to break thee of it." "Well said, Ingeborg! Thanks for the promise. Thy (Courteousness and gentleness will be my correctors. I wiU put myself under their teaching. " Now look," continued the doctor, suddenly assuming a humorous gaiety, " when a dromedary or camel wiH take his driver upon his back, he falls down on his knees before him, as I do, and the other places himself on his shoulder, thus^ and takes the-bridle in his hand, and then the obedient drome- dary rises, and is guided by that hand, even though it be the weak hand of a woman, and . he carries her to the Herberg, through the desert of the world, thus." And so saying, Dr. Hedermann lifted Ingeborg upon his shoulder, and marched with her along the room. ' N"o wonder that Mrs. Uggla, who at that moment entered and beheld this ex;traordinary " undertaking," believed that the doctor was gone mad, and was very near faUing into a fit from sheer terror. But when she saw Ingeborg's calm and smiling countenance, she stood stock-stiU with the door in her hand, whilst the doctor exclaimed gaily to her : " "We are only rehearsing a scheme which we have agreed upon carrying out through the whole of our lives. I am a sort of dromedary which has undertaken to carry Ingeborg 330 HEETHA. through the desert journey, and Ingeborg will be my gracious leader and governor, . yet with th'e proviso that Ingeborg's mother gives us her blessing on our way," "Let me descend, my dromedairy," said Ingeborg, "my mother does not understand the^joke." " Then we will explain it to her in earnest !" 'said the doctor as he obeyed Ingeborg, and turning to her mother, explained what had taken place, besought Ingeborg's hand and her mother's blessing with such cordial feeling, that Mrs. Uggla, both affected and astonished, had neither words nor opportunity to express the many doubts which she felt with regard to the match, nor yet her amazement at the way in which it had been brought about. Mrs. Uggla really had never thought of Dr. Hedermann as her son-in-law, and she considered him, in fact, not altogether comme il/aut, as her daughter's husband. But she had too much respect for him and his medical skill to let this be observed. " But he is not a nobleman!" said she, sighing, to Ingeborg, when they were alone. " But he is an honorable man and the best of men !" said Ingeboj-g, " and mamma's daughter will be happy with him." " And he is a wealthy man — ^lives in his own house — ^the towns-people will say that Ingeborg has made a good match," sighed Mrs. Uggla, in petto, with a sense of consolation. She was one of the old school, the good lady, and firmly adhered to the old style. A WEDDING AT KUNGSKOPING. WHAT THE TOWISTS-PEOPLE SAID. ■ De. HEDEKMAifiir SO hurried on the publication of the banns and the marriage, that in one month after the evening we have just described he led his own Ingeborg into his own house as his wifcj and he made Ingeborg's mother such handsome presents on this occasion, that she almost forgot to sigh because he was not a nobleman. But then, on the other hand, he played her, on that very wedding-day, such a trick as she never forgot and hardly ev«r forgave him. For, instead of following the old Swedish custom, not the most agreeable, according to our fancy, but which, in Mrs. IJggla's family, had always been the ceremonial usage at weddings, just at the very time when the bride ought to have vanished in a mysterious manner from the little company, and when Mrs. Uggla was giving significant hints to Ingeborg on the subject, what should the doctor do, but take it into his head to play the part of dromedary, snatch up his bride, place her on his shoulder, and carry her off before the eyes of all ! Ingeborg's cheerful and consoling words to her mother,' " We shall soon come and see you again,. mamma !" had very little consolation in them, as she beheld Ingeborg placed in a covered carriage, wrapped up in a cloak of the doctor's, who then stepped into the carriage, and away it drove rapidly with them — ^nobody knew where ! Mrs. Uggla would have distressed herself horribly at this sort of abduction, had not Mimmi Svanberg, who was present at the wedding, and had been admitted into the plot, com- forted her somewhat by the assurance that this mode of 332 HEETHA. procedure was modern and universally practised in England and America, and would soon be the fashion, in this country also. Minuni Svanberg laughed so heartily at the whole thing, and talked so about the story of Pluto and Proserpine, that Mrs. Uggla really began to think that the affair was not so terrible after aU, and was ready to smile at Mimmi's joke, and promised not- to trouble herself at all as to what the Kungskoping people might say about the matter. • The Kungskoping people were not very well pleased with the wedding, which was carried on so quietly and silently that they had hardly time to know anything about it before it was aU over, and the doctor had gone off with his wife. And when the new-married couple after a few weeks' absence returned to the town, and instead of paying visits or sending out great invitations, as the Kungskoping people had cal- culated upon, continued to live wholly in stillness and quiet, ness, occupying themselves with the poor and the sick of the town, rather than with its well-to-'do inhabitants, the people of Kungskoping began to grumble, and say all kinds of things about "meanness," and want of "knowledge of life," and that the " doctor was a tyrant to his wife, and that she would be very glad to see people if she dared;" and in short, it i» impossible to say what other extraordinary reports might not have been circulated by the townsfolks, with their corsair Mrs. Tupplander'at their head, about the new-married couple, " who did not behave like other people ;" if they had not been driven out of their heads by another wedding, which was more in accordance with the honor of Kungskbping and the respectability of its inhabitants. This was the wedding of Adelgunda Jonson and Lieutenant Krongranat. Mrs. Jonson, who was now fuUy entitled to call her daugh- ter " her' ladyship," spared nothing to make the wedding worthy of her, daughter's new rank and her own family's respectabihty. Long before, and long after the wedding, the people of Kungskoping talked with admiration of the wealth and the solid luxui'y which was expended on this occasion. Never A WEDDING AT KUNGSKOPING. 383 before in Eungskoping had so many tables been seen so richly covered with silver, and with so many dishes, bo much " fatted calf" and roast goose. And seldom among wedding-guests had been seen before so gi-eat a number of joUy, fat, and, to all appearance, substantial and well-to-do people. The queen of the feast, Mrs. Jonson, shone like a sun of warmth and glad- ness ; Adelgunda in her splendid silk dress, covered with lace, was as fair, and round, and plump, as her tender mother could desire, and was greatly admired by all the crowds, who flocked thither from far and near, to " see the bride." The wedding-feast lasted for five hours, healths were drunk, and verses, composed by a Kungskoping poet, recited ; very beautifiil poems they were said to be, but the following three lines only have reached us — She is a turtle fair and tme, He is BO brave, so faithful too, And both to love pay homage due. And long after the wedding the standing topic of conversa- tion at every coflfee party in the town, was her new " lady- ship," and aU her new clothes, trinkets, furniture, &c. ; and even the wedding-dishes and arrangements were all cooked over again by the tongues of the town, and served up again with variations and remarks. Seldom did any wedding make a greater stir. Mrs. Tupplander only shook her head about it, and said there was far too much of it — far too much; and that it was not becoming to make such an ado about a wedding, when the bride, " her new ladyship," was in fact only a cheese- monger's daughter. But after this speech became known in the Jonson family, Mrs. Tupplander never again, as she had always done, received the present of a fat goose at Michaelmas from. Mrs. Jonson. The people of Kungskoping had soon many brides and weddings to talk about, and one and another ia the town began to suspect that'^the great fire, which burned down so many houses, had also kindled the hearts of the young people; 334 HEBTH^. because never, in the memory of man, had there heen so many marriages within one twelve months in Eungefeoping; as in that which Succeeded the great fire. Many also, besides Mrs; Tupp- lander, attributed to the family-unions, and the acquaintance which young people made one with another at its family com- mittees, and the mutual working together which was the result, a considerable share in the kindling iip of these real unions. And perhaps they were not altogether wrong in their reasoning. ■ ■ In social life, as it generally exists, young people meet those of the other sex only in social circles, or at balls, where they are only able to see and become acquainted with each other in the most external manner, and With many people the mere out- ward is not the best part of them. Vanity-fairs are the prin- cipal scenes of their meeting. What wonder then that they so seldom approximate in a cordial and earnest manner? What wonder that marriage becomes, especially among the educated classes, more and miare rare; in proportion to the many who are able, and perhaps who would wish to marry ? When a winter-season at Stockholm is over, people hear two or at most three marriages spoken of as the result of it, when at the same time many hundreds of young people have flut- tered about with each other at baUs and otl^r social pleasures. If the intercourse of social life were more noble, natural, and simple, if youhg men and women could meet and become acquainted with each other, dm-ing their occupation, ' at their work-places, in academies, or in Christian societies, formed for useful and good social purposes, they would then be attracted to each other by the interest of a common worthy purpose, by noble emulation, by friendly mutual aid; they would then become acquainted with each other, not merely by the exter- nal, but above all by the inner man, by heart, will, and ability. Then certainly many more and much happier marriages would be contracted than is the case under existing circumstances, and those half or criminal connections, which at present people the world with so sorrowfully increasing a number bf illegiti- mate children, would, of a certainty, be greatly decreased. A WEDDING AT KUKGSKSpING. 335 The true love woiild then have fair-play against the false. Whereas the latter only is favored by our artificial social life. We do not know whether the people of Kungskoping said so or not, but we know that Dr. Hedermann and his wife, as well as the sensible Mimmi Svanberg, would not contradict these ideas, founded on many observations made behind the ' scenes, by a paarticipator in the world's drama of life. But we will now return to our Kungskoping, to relate an occurrence which took place there, during the time of Yngve's visit to his native land, after his first short absence abroad, and before his second long and sorrowful one. It will, however, be best introduced by the account of 336 HBBTHA. A CONTESTED ELECTION. The directors of the Kungskoping Infant-School are assem- bled, both gentlemen and ladies. " No, that shall not be," exclaimed Mrs. Tnpplahder with a shrill voice ; "no, I wUl never give my vote in her favor. The woman who has had an illegitimate chUd is not a fit person to be the Superintendent of the Infent-School. How would it look ? A pretty example would hers be for others to follow ! That I know of a certainty." " But," said Mimmi Svanberg mildly, " when she ngw sets so good an example of maternal tenderness, fulQlment of duty, industry, and many good qualities." " What's the use of it ?" screamed Mrs. Tupplander, " when she has an illegitimate child, which proves beyond everything how virtuous she has been. No, fax better take Miss Von Sohaf, who has no blemish on her reputation, or Mrs. Meri- tander, who^has .J)rought up seven children nerself, and is, in every respect, a meritorious person." " But," sai3 the pastor's wife, " Miss Von Schaf is a weak woman, who has no" authority, would command no respect, and Mrs. Meritander is too sharp-tempered and severe, her own chil- dren are not the best proof of her ability for the instruction of chUdreh. Of the three who are proposed for this situation, it seems to me, that Amalia is incalculably the best fitted for the purpose, although I concede that it is an annoying circumstance that she is.not free from blame. But she has conducted her- self in an exemplary way for several years, and has during Mrs. N.'s long illness, now for two years, attended both to her and the infant-school in a manner which is really admirable." " But then she has a blemished reputation," shrieked Mrs. A C0NTB8TKD ELECTION. 331 Tupplander ; " that is the case neither with Miss Von Sctaf nor Mrs. Meritander. Who knows Amalia Herd's merits? Very few; but everybody knows that she has an ille^timate child, which she has the shameless — ^the peculiarity, t will say, of not concealing^ but always keeping with her." "But she never goes intti society," remarked A voice: it was that of Hertha, " What does it matter," replied Mrs. Tupplander, " whether she is out or in? It is quite sufficient that she has her child with her, and that it is illegitimate. She shall never have my support. It will be a discredit to the whole school. One must pay some attention to what people think and say : one must have some regard to chlstity and good morals. What would the world say ?" Many of the directors took Mrs. Tupplander's view of the case, and the debate began to be hot and stormy, when Tngve Nordin requested attention to a few words which he had to say. "Allow me to inquire, are we not all agreed that Amalia H§.rd is, both by her own wishes and ability, and especially by her motherly disposition towards the children, the most suitar ble of the three candidates for the situation of teacher in the school?" Many voices assented to this. " Very well," continued Yngve ; " thfen: let our object be the greatest benefit of the children, and lei uS t^ke the best instructress for them, and leave the world to say what it likes." " But that's nothing to the purpose," continued Mrs. Tupp- landei' in her shrill tone. " She has,' as the mother of an illegitimate child, no right, no claim to the place, and — what must she be called ; what sort of nanle can she have ? " "CeQI h&r Mother ! " said Hertha's melodious grave voice: " she has suffered chough and endured enough to deserve the being called so with eisteem ; and I know that she wishes not to be called t>y any other name than Mother Amalia, as she is already caUfed by all the school children. Before God no 15 338 HKETHA. child is illegitimate ; and it ought not to be called so by man. Let us all, who have not forfeited the -world'a casual esteem by a caeual error, unite^ in giving to Amalia that support and reparation which she deserves fi-om her later conduct ; let us, instead of rejecting her and her child, do them justice, and assist them in becoming respectable." " I put no cushions under crime — ^not I ! " again exclaimed Mrs. Tupplander, and shook herself from right to left ; " but I vote for Mrs. Meritander ! " Yngve !N'ordin, who seemed assiduous in calling forth the free expression of dissimilar o;^inion among the .directors, again spoke : " If it be especially the rank of Mrs., as a married woman, in which Amalia H§,rd is deficient, I am warranted m making known to the directors, that she will in a couple of weeks be legally entitled to this rank. To-morrow the bans wiQ be published in the Town Church of her marriage with the man who is faMier of her chUd." There was on this announcement a general silence of ► astonishment. Mrs. Tupplander, quite beside herself with surprise, remained sitting with her lips apart and her eyes wide open, staring at Yngve, who continued : " Pecuniary circumstances will compel him for some years to remain abroad, where he has been fortunate enough to ob- tain a lucrative employment. In the mean time it is his wish to give his betrothed and his child that reparation which a, name can give, until he is able to return and ftdfil his duty as husband and father. In the mean time his wife can conduct the infant-school." *'Who — who is he? if I may ask?" exclaimed Mrs. Tupp- lander, beside herself with curiosity. "That," said Yngve Nordin, "will be published in the morning from the pulpit ; and any one who goes to church may learn it. But let us now return to the business of the meetilig-'— the election of afoistress." The debate was resumed, but now with increased advan- tage for Amalia, and finally she was elected, though by a A CONTKBTBO ELECTION. 339 small majority, because Mrs. Meritander had vtoious friends among the directors, who wished to help her and her children to "a living." Mrs. Tupplander, very red and very angry, withdrew her name- as one of the dlreotors of the infant- school; nor was any protest made against her doing so, nor any regret expressed. 340 HSBTHA. ANOTHER WEDDING. Sn-ENX as love's ■whisper of pardon for past errors was the wedding which united Amalia Hfird with Tngve's brother. They were married in her room by the well-known little pastor: Yngve and Hertha alone were present. Such was Amalia^s wish. After the ceremony was ended, a mother bent over her sleeping child and whispered: "My child! my child! sleep now peaceftilly; sleep sweetly; no one henceforth will call thee illegitimate ! God has forgiven thy mother I " " And thy father also !" said a low manly voice, and with that Yngve's brother laid his hand on the boy's head. When Amalia rose from her knees she was clasped in Hertha's sisterly embrace. After that Amalia's husband led her up to Tngve, saying, "Let us both thank him, who taught me my duty towards thee and our child, and who rendered it possible for me henceforth to raise you up." Tngve's brother was also a handsome young man, but of a weaker character than his elder, manlier brother. " Let us now eat and drink on the aflFair !" said the little pastor cheerfully, " because there cannot be a real Swedish wedding without. both eating and drinking; and it does not do to hurry over marriages as those mad people, the English and the Americans, do; just get the ring on the bride's finger, then into a carriage, and drive away to the world's end. No: let us follow our forefathers' jog-trot manners; they never forgot, on any suitable occasion, both to eat and to driiik ; and, therefore, do you now follow me to the bridal feast I" And with that the pastor went out, down stairs, and led the little company into the school-room, which they found ANOTHEB ■Wra)DING, 841 sanded and strewn with fir-twigs, and in the middle a well- covered table, at which Mimmi Svanberg and the- pastor's wife were very busy. This was a surprise for Amalia and Hertha. But there is no need for us to say how agreeable was the entertainment, gpiced as it was with good-will and cordiality. On the afternoon of the same day, Yngve departed with his younger brother, the former to be re-called by Hertha whenever she could give him the hope of a favorable turn in their affairs, as regarded the future. The people of Kungskoping, who in our story occupy the place of chorus in the Greek drama, made many edifying and moral reflections upon this marriage, which upon the whole was approved of, as quite in order, although Mrs. Uggla and many other good souls shook their heads as to its fiitrtre prospects. Amalia in the mean time rose in the regards and favor of the town, and Mrs. Tupplander's enmity was strand- ed upon her good conduct and the steadfastness of her fiiends. With respect to our other friends and acquaintances in Kungskoping during the last seven years, we may state that Mimmi Svanberg continued to be the counciHor and the help- er of all in the town, whence she was called by various of her friends, " the town-oownciHor." We see her always active; now with a myrtle crown for a bride ; now present at a fune- ral ; now making a collection for a cripple who needed the water-cure ; now with a little bundle of coffee and sugar and fine bread under her cloak, hastening forth in the twilight to take a little joy into a poor home ; or at a great bail amid joke and earnest, enticing people to help oae another^ without their being aware of it. Always cheerful, always kind, spin- ning a multitude of threads of mercy, on purpose to catch somebody in them, she seemed to be always devising some new joyous mode of obliging people, and showing how happy any one may be by so doing. Many wondered how Minuni Svanberg, with only smiall means herself, could yet have the opportunity of doing so much fop others. 342 HBHTHA. " My means," said she on one occasion, with, a smile m reply to such a remark, " are human hearts, and our Lord's help." And after all, these ought to be the surest funds. But one must first put trust in them. Eva Dufva blossomed as a rose at the parsonage, embraoei^ with unspeakable love by her adopted parents, dividing! the day between healthy domestic duties under the guidance of the pastor's wife, and affectionate attention to her new parents, "for," wrote Mrs. Dahl to one of her fnendb, " when the evening comes and I go into my comfortsible chamber to rest after the labor of the day, a pair of small arms are thrown around my neck, and a sweet rosy mouth whispers into my ears caressingly a pleasant name, and I feel myself a mother, and know that life is rich and delightful. I have never been so happy, especially now that I have Maria with me." The good, active pastor's wife had actually now the happi-' ness of having two daughters in the house, " and that is something," said she, happy in having two, but still longing after more. She was, besides this, always endeavoring after a better locale for the in&nt-school, but she always met with a multitude of difficulties, which were the more to be lamented, because the number of children in the school con-finually in- creased after Mother Amalia had the management, and after the little singer Mina, with the clear voice, and the clear, pious eyes, taught the children such delightful songs. •In the mean time the town was rebuilt, and the family-unions extended and floitrished thereby, knitting up relationship between the wealthy and the poor ; knitting up here and there among its members a real union in marriage, or a bond of friendship, such as might satisfy the warm heart's need. Such was the friendship which grew up between the Countess P. and Mimmi Svanberg, beautifying the lives of both, and con- tinuing even when the latter was married — ^but of this some- what later. Professor Methodius had not yet been able to get his Bjstem. ANOTHEE WEDDING. 343 into operation, and the first sheet of his great work had been set up by the printer no less than seven times, •The Protocol Secretaiy, N. B., had not yet finished his book against ladies-soeieties. Rtanor began to say that he himself was in a fair way to enter into a private ladies' society — that he was intending to get married ! But wilt thou see, friendly reader, at the end of these seven years (and as a consolation for all the bitter and caustic things which have been said in this book against matrimony), a reaUy happy married couple, then look into the home of Dr. Heder- mann apd his Ingeborg. She always busy, domestic, ready alike for rough or for smooth — ^he, happy to sit beside her with a ■son and daughter oh his knees, and gazing with a love which borders upon reverence on his gentle wife, whose " camelj' or " dromedary" he every now and then does himself the honor to become, either when Ingeborg is not strong, or not in a condition to walk far. " But what does it matter ?" says she ; "I am , really so happy, after aU !" She is her husband's help, not only at home, but also in his life, as a good citizen, in her oversight of poor children, and of the doctor's excellent institutions for them. Mrs. TJggla, who cannot any longer sigh over the seven Miss Dufras and their future, as at this time four are married, two are adopted at the parsonage, and the parents have now only one left at home, whom they would not part with at any price, — Mrs. TJggla, who sees her daughter happy and in the best possible circumstances, almost worshipped by the bestoof husbands, whose only fault is that of being sometimes " rather queer," does not rightly know what she, at the present time, has to sigh about. She has begun therefore to trouble herself about all the children which Ingeborg may probably have, and to sigh over the future, especially if they should be daughters. All the people of Kungskoping had a great deal to say about Hertha's educational institution^ and especially about the evening Conversations of which we have already spoken ; but in the mean time, she acquired more and more consequence in 344 SSRIBA. the town, sp,i people Ibecame generally jigreed in the opinion that the week-day schopl was excellent, and that the Convep- sation-lesgons might be very nseftil as praotiop in foreign languages. The yov^lg people of the town regarded Hertha as a sort of Sibyl to whom they silently or openly propounded all important questions. They asked themselves, " What would Hertha say ?" And now yfe will return to HERTHA'S HOME. MOENXNG. Hertha's home was prepared as for a festival ; the clear Hue sky of midsumiaer and its hlaizirig sun which "came forth like a bridegroom from, his chamber, and rejoiced him- self as a hero to run his course, glanced in through the open windows of the Iduna-hall ; brilliant butterflies fluttered in upon the wings of fresh warm summer breezes, to salute the lilacs and lilies of the valley, which exhaled and diffused fragrance around the beautiful image of the goddess of youth. It is a glorious midsummer moimiag. Do you see that tali and noble woman, who in snow-white attire stands in the beaiiti&l room as its priestess? The breeze plays with the Ught, black-lace mantle, which falls from her ghoulderg^ and caresses with a rejoicing breath a counte- nance,, which, lihough no longer young, is nevertheless pos- sessed of beauty — of a peculiar picturesque beauty; The eyes and forehead, especially, are unusually ftdl of expresaon, whilst the bitter expression of the mouth is softened at this moment by a quiet, melancholy smile. It is Hertha, and Hertha expects Yngve home. This day^ this very morning he is expected. And as Freya, of old, took an oath of every- thing in nature that it should not hurt her beloved son^ so seemed Hertha at this moment to conjure them all to join with her in welcoming Tngve, her friend, her soul's bride- groom, and to beautify his return home. She looked on the beautiful plants, on the statues, on all which make the Iduna- hall a temple for the soul, on the butterflies, and up to the clear blue sky, with a new love, because Yngve would soon 15* 346 HEETHA. see them in this room, and she, as it were, admonished them to he more beautiful than ever to receive him, for all that was hers -was his also. Many, many thmgs on earth at the saHie time circumscribed her joy and" her hope, but her soul at this moment, rising above every oppressive fetter, ascended in a song of thanksgiving to the Father in heaven for all that she had won and' for the wealth of this moment on earth. As a strong tree raises itself again after the storm and lifts its head aloft and spreads out anew its branches as a shelter for the birds of heaven, so did Hertha raise herself after the conflict of so many years, fuU of thanksgiving, of power and will to comfort and to bless. i Her young sisters entered attired in their best ; they also expected Yngve with eager yearning ; for it would make Hertha so happy. " How handsome you are to-day," said they, embracing her ; " you look like a bride and like a priestess at the same time." , " Hush, hush, flatterers !" said Hertha, clasping them in her anns, " you must not spoil me. "Where is our little mother ?" It was thus that Yngve's mother was spoken of by the daughters of the house. She too entered from her room, not unlike a happy shadow, so pale, but yet at the same time so fiiU of delicious joy, in so soon being able to see her beloved son. Breakfast was set out in the Iduna-hall, in the midst of lilacs and deliciously fragrant lilies of the valley. The table was covered with the most exquisite deUcacies which a tjountry life affords ; nothing was wanting to complete the whole but the warm morning beverage, — ^this waited for Yngve's arrival. Everything seemed to wait for Yngve. That was in the morning at Hertha's home. At this very time, a scene of quite another character was vntuessed at about three English miles' distance. A steamboat HBBTHA'S HOME. 347 was seen burning on lake Wener. It was making way towards the nearest land. The shore towards which the steamer was advancing was covered with forest, xminhahited and wild. The peasants of the neighborhood lay as yet sunk iu their Sab- bath morning sleep, and such few as had become aware of the fatal mischance, were a long time in getting the boats of the shore in action. The occurrence of any accident to a steamboat is so rare in Sweden, that people are just as httle prepared for it as th^y would be for an explosion of the moon. It, was one of the canal-steamers on its way from Gotheborg through the country, which had this morning taken fire.- The ^ passengers, who had been woke out of their sleep by the out- bursting of the flames, found themselyes, as they rushed on deck, enveloped in fire. The boats on board were found to be unfit for service, but the land was near at hand ; they were making rapid way towards it, and all stiU hoped. Suddenly, however, it struck ; the engine ceased to work, and the fire increased on all sides. They were not many fathoms from land, but the water around the vessel was too deep for any to get to shore, excepting, such as could swim. An awful and heart- rending confusion prevailed, amid which pale mothers besought men to save their children. One of the men sprang upon one of the paddle-boxes, and cried aloud : " AU here who can swim, do as I do !" And with these words he threw himself into the water ; then turning towards the vessel, he called to a young mother, who stQdd by the gunwale with her child on her arm, " Jump over- board ! I will catch you, and swim with you and your child to land. Don't be afraid !" She followed his injunction, just as the Sanies caught her dress, and he swam with her to the shore. Another young rnan followed his example at the same moment, and yet two others. These four brave men swam to and from the vessel, saving all who could not save themselves. The first young man, who was the most energetic and the best swimmer of all, rescued in this manner no less than fourteen persons, mostly women and children His cordial manners and great coursj,^ 348 HBETHA. — ^the animated glances of Ms unusually %ei eyes — ^hk, coolness and skiU, — aU contribwted to give him the, confidence of every one ; the (jhief hope of all seemed to, be^ centred in him. The work of rescue ^ad 'bee% carried forward so rapidly and so suc- cessfiiUy, that not a single life was lost, either among the pas- sengers or the SitejTOer's, company, nor yet even, iiijujred ; ajid although they were compelled to see from, the shore the vessel burn to the water's edge, and many had to deplore the loss of their property, yet tlj,e predonjiijiatyig feeling at this moment was that of having been rescued from ^ terrible §udden death, and of gratitud,e towards, the brave men whp had-sa,ved theni):, *^ One of these saviors, however, the npiQst , active pf them, did not hear the Ijhanks which were given to him.. He lay, a little, apart from the throng, upon the rnossy turf of the forest, and a clear stream of blood poured froni his mouth pver tliie m<)8S and the lipg. His cheeks, lately crimsoned as by the flush of fever, now were ashy pale, and, those beautiful eyes were dosed as, i^ the sleep of death. Silent and terrified tiie lately saved throng gathered around ; the, women weeping, becafl.s,e he y^m dying from the efibrts he had madie (jn behalf of themselves and their children. Yet an attentive observer inight have remarked, from his sunken cheeks, that death ha,d long befor,e, begun its work in hitn aij,d undermined his health. Still, how- ever, he is beautiful, £^s he lies there with his, well-developed chest, bared to life wind, and the, drenched, rich, dark-brown hair thrown ba^plf from tlie pure forehead. The dark pine-treea extended quietly oyer hjm their waving branches, as if they^ woulji shelter him from the hot beams of the sun, " Who is he ?" asked all aloud, or in an undertpne. 'JHj^ dress looks like that of a foreigner, but. i^is speech and his cpui]itenance, \s^th its, good, iiifmly expressipn, a,re Swedish."v " My brother !■ my brother !" exclajiraed a, vpiep of deep anguish, and a young, nian pressed through the pfiOwd, flung himself upon the ground beside the apparently, dying man, and laid his ear to his hearty He again sprang up and ex- claimed: '"I^ake care of him! Let nobody reijaove Mm from this place before I return!?? bebtha's home. 349 And with these words he rushed^ through the forest, ift the direction of Kungskoping. The remainder stood irresolute round the pale young man. Grateful hands wiped the blood from, his lips, and bathjed his temples with water from the pold. forest-spring. H,e lay quite still with closed eyes, and they l^v not wh,ejj|iQ|' h^ we^s alive or dead; they could jiot perceive that he breathed- But to remove him they dared npt. In, the mean tjimg tlje greater number of the people begaii to proceed tp. the Ijpwn, because they could thence send help, afid besides, each one had to care for himself and Ms to find lodgings, dry clpthes, etc. On th^ other hand, the peasants of the surrounding district collected and formed a close circle around the young man, y^^o seemed to -have bled to death, or to cpnteniplate the vessel which lay upon the mirror-like lake, liplth^ extinguished engipe-fires, but still burning huU. They talked about Tngve. " He is certainly dead," said, one. " He ought npt to lie here," said anotheif. " He ought to ba parried, to. thQ town, to the doctor," said a third. " Do not touch him !" cried one of the women whom he had saved, and whp, faithfully kept, watch by his side : " the effur sion of blood woujd begin afresh, and he would die by thp Way, We must wait ; pf a certainty some one will soon come to him from the to^yn." Afl^ sh(? related to the astonished listening people the nobl|? achievejnents of the stranger that morning. * They waited in silence ; the sun ascended higher in, the lieavens, and penetratpd the thick forest with his beams. It grew very hot. The throng talked together in a low Toigei " What a pity for the young man !" said one. woman ; "he lopksjust like one of God's angels !" "A brave fellow!" said an old peasant, "and. one of the gentlefolks, too. It would be a gOod thing to have many such in the countr,y if the enemy came." The sun rose higher and higher, and the pine-tree branches no longer sheltered th§ dying man frpm its fiery rays. " We 350 HEETHA. cannot stay here the ■whole day," said the peasants ; "we must go home, but we mil first carry him into the nearest cottage." " Wait !" stiQ besought the faithful watcher ; " wait a little while longer ! Some one will soon come." Some one came. A tall lady, clad in white, came through the wood with rapid steps ; she was followed by men with a softly-cushioned bier. The crowd hastily opened at sight of her calm commanding presence, and made way for her. She knelt by the side of the unconscious man, laid her hand upon 'his heart, and then her ear to his mouth. She then siniled and looked up : " He still breathes ! ,he lives ! " She made a sign to the men with the bier; she herself raised Yngve's head upon her arm, and careftdly, with the help of the men, placed him gently upon it. " Friends ! " said she, addressing some of the crowd, " go on before us and clear the way through the wood, so that no- thing may impede us. No one who serves this man to-day shall fail to be well rewarded by me ! " "Willingly, but silently, they obeyed Hertha?s command. She was known and respected throughout the country ; she was well known in the dwellings of the distressed"; and, besides that, every one felt deep sympathy for the young man whose noble actions that very day they knew. " If ow, gently, step for step, through the forest to the town," said Hertha. And on went the procession of men, women, . and children, dressed in the Sabbath and holiday attire of the country, and soon opened a way through the forest. Close beside Yngve's pillow walked, watchfully, two women — she whom he had so lately saved, and she whom he loved so deeply, and who now turned aside everything which might touch his face — ah! dearer to her now,- as it lay in the shadow of death, than it ever had been in the full glory of Ufe. When the procession emerged from the forest into the blaze of the sun, these two ladies held over the head of the slumberer leafy branches which they had broken off for that purpose ; and thus they reached BDERTHA'S HOME. IN THE EVENING. Thb bridegroom is in the house of the bride, but the wed- ding ^that is a long way off! Farther off it seems now, than it ever did before, for Tngve seems at the point of death ; yet he lives ; great is the power of love, great also sometimes is the power of the physician's art. The physician is sent for, and in the mean time Hertha is alone with Tngve. She Mssed his mouth, his eyes, bis cheek; she kissed his cold hand. "Who can now deny her that ? She can now permit- herself to do so, for he wiU, indeed, soon die. The angels in heaven could not have given kisses of purer or more unselfish love. . Never had she kissed the life-warm young man with a love like that with which she now kissed those cold and life- less lips ! And- those kisses of Hertha's have awoke Yngve from his death-slumber. He fixes his eyes upon her ; he inhales new hfe from her glances. He raises himself. He soon rests his head upon her shoulder, and he whispers words of love and joy at seeing her again. But Hertha lays her finger upon his lips, he must not talk now. Soon comes the physician to see what he can do. Dr. Hedermann is here ; he gives the patient a composing draught, which is administered by Hertha's hand. • Perfect rest is prescribed. Hertha alone may be near Yngve. He cannot bear her from his presence ; he follows her with his eyes ; he seems to live in her sight. In the course of a few hours his pulse has become stronger ; he gazes intelligibly . around him, he can sit up ; he would talk even, if he might 352 HEKTHA. be permitted. But Hertha allows it not. The physician warns of great danger, but still gives hope. Yngve may possibly live. Oh, how softly Hertha moves around him, and strengthens and consoles him sUently by her presence, her own soul's ful- ness and strength. Tngve's mother cannot do as much for him now, because her own physical weakness has overcome her soul's strength, and she cannot look at him without tears. Bat Hertha has not this day shed a tear. It is now no time for weeping. The doctor fea^i ordered a, warm ^pjb-battb, fojr; Yngvei in order to draw the blood from; the chest, T,t is prepared for him ia the esteniag twilight, ai3[d mingljed with beneficial and fragrant spioesii In the houB of twilight Tngve- sat, an,d, eiyoyed its, bixuiyw He agked not now whose; are , the ^ft, hands which bathe big, feet. He closes; his-, eyes, £(.nd, dreams himseMbaok to the time whgn^ he was, a child in his ijaotteir'a home and her hands tended him. They woDld< gljadly dm it nowj but they have, become too feeble, and it is not. the mother, bust she, who regards herself as his. wifej wljjO laves his feet and caUs. the warmth of life down; into the stiffened limba. YngMe had closed hisi eyes, leaniag back among the piUows of the easy chair ; Hertha believed that he slumbered, and when she saw in his still handsome but emaciated countenance the ravages of suffering andi hope long deferredj he? tears fell foe the first time that day. They fell upon Tngve's feet which she held in her lap, andi she let down her rich and beautiful hair, and dried them with it. Yngve had often reproaphed Hertha for not being able to love as he lo,ved» &r not under- standing what love was, and she had sometimes thought th^t. there was justice in his reproach ; bnt now she felt that there was not. At night Hertha sat watching by Yugve.'s bed ; he slept, but uneasily^ and often awoke as if terrified, by fearful dreams, but at Uie fiist glance of that faithful friend, he smiled and was calm. During the stillness of tie night Hertha prepared herself for the morrow's combat with her fatiien. FATHER AND DAUGHTER YET ONCE MOEB. Eablt in the morning Hertha entiere^ l^er Other's room. She saTV, by bis threatening and i^gry countenance, the tempest which awaited her. But she was now in that state of mind when the soul takes no heed of fear, and feels a deter- mination and a power in its wil} 'which assures it of victory. Therefore is she so cabnc^ so composed in her ^empanoTj glance, and voice. The strength lies in the depth of Ijhe -vnll. The Chief-Director was deceived by this^ arid l^eg?Wi wi^h 3 stem voice : " AVhat liberty is this which you are taking in my house ? How dared yqu, yithout .ftskin'g my permission, to bring a strapger hither ? ^e you, or am I^ m^^ter of this house ?" " Tou, my fatber !" replied Hertha, " Biit Yngve is in his mother's room ; is her guest, not mine." The old man kpew not for a moment vhat to say to this, but contiaue^ tp look a,t his. daughter with an angry expres- sion, and then said : " At all events, I ought to have be,eii asked, been consulted with ^I ought indeed t^ have a vo^Pie in my pwv, house !" "Father," said Hertha, with sad earnestness, "you are right, I might have asked your permigaoii, have consulted with you, but — ^you, have made me afraid of you, and the fear of strife, an<^ the fear of your reftising me my prayer, pre- vented my coining to you yesterday, because I must have my own way as regards Tngve. But to-day — to-day I have come to talk with you, to ask your ppnsent to what I propose, to what must be done." 354 HBETHA. " Mmt^'' repeated the Chief-Director, astonished, " what is it that must be done ?" Hertha continued as before : " Tngve is dying. The most ■watchfiil tenderness can alone,, by any possibiUty, save him. I •wish to marry him, that I may have the right to attend upon him as his wife." The Chief Director looked at her with an immoveable gaze, and seemed to be turnicig aver in his mind the means of opposition. "Father," resumed Hertha, "for more than seven years I have waited for the freedom which you promised me on one occasion, and which I consider as my right, that of disposing of my own person and my own future ; I have waited for your consent ; I- have bowed myself to your will. I cannot do it any longer. The life of another is at stake. I have taken my resolution. Do not drive me to extremes. Ton may deny me my fi-eedom, forbid me to become Yngve's wife, but nothing in this world shall henceforth • prevent me from remaining with Yngve, and being his faithful attendant, even though I should forfeit my reputation by doing so ?" "Do you threaten? do you defy me? will you compel me ?" out burst the Director, beside himself with rage. " Tou intend perhaps to cite me before a Court of Justice ; to drag •your father into a court of law !" " Never!" returned Hertha, pale and calm as before, " but I warn you, my father ; I tell you what will be the conse- quence if you, forbid me to fulfil my duty to my betrothed. Do not do this, my father, and fear nothing from me. Every- thing in your family will remain just as it was before. I shall demand nothing from you as my gtiardian, excepting what you yourself may think well to give. Yngve and I possess sufficient means for the present time. If he recover we shall want nothing. Have no fear of us, my father, and ^ve your consent to that which I ask. Otherwise I shall, with Yngve, seek another home than yours."- " Do you promise," said the Chief-Director, gloomily, " to be satisfied with such a statement of your mother's inheritance FATHBK AND DAUGHTBE. 355 as I shall render ; will you promise that on your own, and your future husband's account ?" " I promise, my father ! Ton know that you may depend upon me !" " Are you prepared, you and your fiiture husband, to give me a written engagement to that effect ?" "T^s." " Well then, send for the clergyman when you like. Only, I will have no bridal ceremonies, no company iavited ; that I will be excused ; do you hear ?" " Yes ; and there is no need of invitations. Bridal ceremo- nies would not be seemly, at a dying-bed. I thank you, my father !" Thus separated, for this time, father and daughter. S66 BBBTBA. THE WEDDING. AsADi w€ see the Idunarball. A smaB, silent company is assemUed there, in the midst of which is a man still young, though he evidently has not long to live, for " roses of the grave " bloom upon his sunken cheeks, and the fine eyes are blight with a supernatural radiance. This was the bride- groom." All seemed to wait. Anon a door was opened,' and accompai^d by her s&aidens and beautiAil £l:om the expression of nobility and earnestness, entered the pale but stately bride, with the myrtle crown on her golden hair. " Here in the circle of their nearest connections, were united Yngve and Hertha, by 'the warm-hearted little pastor, who was so deeply affected by the scene, that he was scarcely able to read the marriage ceremony, but from that very cause spoke with still deeper emphasis the benediction on the new- mariied pair, who seemed to be united rather for death than life. And yet they looked more happy, nay more blessed, these two, than bridal couples do in general. Mimmi Svanberg is present at the marriage, and by her lively loquacity introduces a little gaiety into the seriousness of the solemnity. It is the Chief Director in particular whom she devotes herself to enliven, and she actually succeeds in calling up now and then ^ smile on his morose countenance. Hertha and Yngve are atfsufficient to each other. Yngve is better this evening than he has been since his return. The fulness and the impontance of the time seem to have given him a renewed life. "^But his affectionate wife watches over him and will not allow him to give himself up to "the aug- mented excitement of the moment, without soon recalling him from the company to stillness and silence with her. Thus, as in former years, she again supported him on her faithM arm. A SUNBEAM. Mait — " he Cometh like a flower, and k cut dowfi ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and oontinueth not." These words often sounded in Hertha's memory during the days which succeeded^ and when she saw Yngve decline more and more in strength, more and more bend towards the graven But God in Ms love often permits his servant to beautify for days and months the pilgrimage of a belof ed being towards " The second light." This was Hertha's privilege^ Tngve seemed, especially during the few weeks after his return home, to revive, as it were, and acquire new strength. The presence of Hertha and his mother, their care and affec- tion, the peaceftdn^s and pleasantness with which Hertha surrounded him, aU operated most beneficially upon him. Two rooms on the other side of the Idnna-haU were fitted wp espe- cially for him — 'for the house was spacious and contained much more room than the fe.mily required, and the Chief-Director himself made no objection to his daughter's ordering and arranging everything as she pleased in the house when he saw that Tngve's residence there increased, instead of dimi- nishing, the fiunily income, Yngve passed daily a few hours in the Iduna-hall. The influence of the summer, the whc^esome diet which was sup- plied, produced a feeling of physical well-being, such as he had not experienced for a long time. He began himself to have feith in his restoration to health. " How can I be otherwise than well, here with you ?" said he frequently to Hertha ; " you seem to possess ahealth-^ving power." Towards autumn, however, the daily fever returned with; augmented force. In order to devote herself to Yngve, 358 HEETHA. Hertha was obliged to leave the week-day-school in a, great measure to the care of her sister Maria and Olof E. But she still ' continued her holiday-school ; and its Conversation-lessons Con- stituted one of Yngve's greatest enjoyments. But he only took part iu them by speaking merely now and then a word. If his interest ia any subject under discussion induced him to do more, or if he became animated in conversation, an affec- tionate, and at the same time beseeching and commanding glance from Hertha forbad it. Sometimes with affectionate pleasantry she would present him with an occupation better suited to his strength, by placing before him a basket fiUed with fresh flowers and fruits of the season, which it was always a pleasure for Tngve to distribute among the young people, and it was beautiful to see the Uttle flock of life-enjoying youth surrounding Tngve's chair with looks of reverence and love. Hertha looked on with an expression in which tender joy contended with sorrow. For she could not disguise from herself that the hand which now so kindly distributed fruits and. flowers, and then pressed hers so warmly — that this fever- ish hand would before long lie stiff and cold in the grave. At this thought a dagger seemed to pierce her heart, and she repressed with difficulty a convulsive sigh. Tet she did repress it. When winter came, with its clear days and fresh snow, and the bulfinoh sang hi the trees, ghsteniag with crystals of icec again Yngve's strength revived, and with it his hope of hfe. He so thoroughly enjoyed the glorious winter of his native land, and all those home-comforts which few countries possess ' in equal measm-e with our own rural homes. He was now able sometimes to sit with his father-in-law over his evening pipe by the crackUng pine-log fire, and the Chief Director was never unfriendly towards Yngve, and appeared always glad to see him. Yngve sometimes even playfully assisted Aunt Nella to entangle her skein, under pretence of bringing it into order; in a word, he was now occasionally the hfe-enjoying Yngve of former days. But it was only the bla'zing-up of the lamp before it became extinguished for ever. Towards spring his A SUNBEAM, 359 Strength visibly and rapidly declined, and an unusual depres- sion at times took hold upon his mind. Hertha saw that " a struggle was going forward in his soul." She understood itj because she herself was passing through a silent conflict, and that for his sake. And they conquered together. Yngve submitted himself to his doom in loving obedience, and seemed thenceforward only more fully to enjoy all which that beautiful life had stUl ttf ofifer him — above all, Hertha's love. The weaker he became, the more he loved to have her sitting by his side, and to rest his head upon her shoulder. Thus they sate one day towards the close of May, when the tndb trees opened their blossoms to the warm sun, and the soft vernal wind, entering through the open windows of the Iduna- haU, sported with the leaves of the plants which stood there. Yngve enjoyed^these delicious vernal breezes. " A branch of newly-opened apple-blossom lay on Hertha's lap, and his hand played with it as he admired its beauty. The contrast between ever-flourishing and blossoming nature and the dying man was great, and Hertha, otherwise so watchftil over, herself, could not prevent her tears from falling. One fell on Tngve's hand ; he raised it to his Ups and said : " How beautiful, my Hertha ! to know that Nature is blood of our blood, flesh of our flesh, and life of our life ; that it win rise again and be transfigured with us beyond the grave, through Him who has life in Himself! — a new Heaven is not without a new Earth ! Iduna and her fruits are imperishable truth ! Iduna is an immortal thought !" Hertha could not answer, but she knew that he understood her thoughts, and that he who reconciled her to life wiU now reconcile her to death by his death. She bowed her head to his, and kissed his forehead. It felt so extraordinarily damp and cold. " How are you, my Tngve ? " whispered she. " Well ! " he replied ; " very well, just now ! " And he seemed to sink into a soft slumber. Hertha embraced him supportingly. His head sunk to her breast, and seemed heavy ; she no longer heard him breathe. SeO HBETHA. She thus sat immoveably, and her asters e&teringi found her sitting ahnost as rigid, ahnost as cold as him whom she held iii her arms clasped t(J her bosom^ > The three bore Yngve silently to his room, and laid him on his bed. He slept — slept deeply — and the kisses of his wife Could not wake him more; THE ANGEL OF DEATH. Ye BonB of Adam of frail earth's shaping, Ciombling again into the same I Ye are mine ; ye are Death's ; there is no escaping Since sin into the world first came. I stand in the east, And the western clime ; And a thousand voices Ye guests of Time I bring ye, the Lord of Heaven's commands, From air and fire, from seas and lands. Ye plan and build as the small bird buildeth Her nest in the summer's verdant bower ; She singeth in joy, and the forest shieldetb The home of her love one little hour ; But where is the wild bird. And where are her halls, When the tempest raves And the strong tree falls ! We frequently see a family stand for a great number of years, umnoved by the changes or tempests of time, and , growing in calm security, when suddenly a storm comes, which, within a few months or weeks, carries off its members or changes its circumstances, so that it is, as it were, oblite- rated from the earth, and is mentioned there no more. It is the Angel of Death which has gone forth thither. Such are occaaionaUy the devastations of a. tempest, which in a few hours mows down, like corn, both the old and the young trees of the forest, which had otherwise stood unremoved for years. Such a dispensation of Providence swept over Hertha's family. After Yngve'#decease one death followed another in 16 362 HEETHA. rapid succession. First died Tngve's mother, or, more cor- rectly .speaking, peacefully went to sleep a few days after her son's departure, thankful and rejoicing to be ahle to foUow him. Very shortly the Chief Director had an attack of apoplexy, in consequence of the violent, agitation of mind caused by the then position of, the great lawsuit, in which he was compelled to pay down a large sum of money. He re- covered, it is true, in some measure ; but paralysed in the lower limbs, and after a severe struggle with death, because he would not die, but ]iv6, and continue as formerly alone to govern the pecuniary affairs of .the family without taking counsel with any one. He felt himself, so he declared, as strong and capable, as regarded, his powers of mind, as^he ever had been, and he felt convinced that he should perfectly recover his health, and live -many years. He took after his grandfather, he said, who had lived to be a hundred years of age. With this prospect before him he eoncentrgrted aE his attention and aU his care stiU. more exclusively upon himself, seeming to consider his restoration to health as the onl^ im- portant thing in the world. Nevertheless he was not alto- gether regardless of the anxious charge which his daughters had in him, and he attached himself especially to Hertha, with a kind of childish confidence ; and she, from the hour in which she saw in this despotic father, a weak, ailing cjpld, felt once mere that she could love him — could watch over him with love. She thanked God for this renewed sentiment of filial affection, and took little thought of all the weary watching and wearing anxiety of mind which, together with her own heart's silent sorrow, more and more undermined her strength. And though her father occasionally acknowledged her devoted affection, and appeared contented if he only saw her in his room, he stiU merely thought of her with regard to himself, and his -selfishness seemed only to increase as his powers, de- creased. One day, towards the close of summer, a wasp had flown into his chamber, and they sought to drive it out through the window. " Let it be!" said he impatiently, "*t won't sting me/," ■- THE AUGKL OF DEATH. 363 A few hours after he was dead. Hertha's apprehensions as to the state of her father's affairs proved, on his death, only to he too well founded. The Chief Dkector died a ruined man. The maternal inheritance of his daughters, Aunt NeUa's forty years' savings, and his own property, had all been swallowed up hy the great lawsuit, which was stiU going on at his death, and which he probably still hoped in his last moments to win. During a slight deh- rium, which came on a few hours before his death, he talked incessantly of carrying his cause before the supreme court. And he did. so — ^but before a much higher tribunal than he had thought of. Poor little Aunt Nella did not long survive the death of her brother-in-law, and the restdt of the great lawsuit. During the last few days of her life she was incessantly searching among the papers of the large portfolio, and talking to herself about the mislaid documents and the lost lawsuit. And thus also her coniused but innocent soul appeared before the Su- preme tribunal, where she had no cause to dread a severe ver- dict. Anna, the faithful old servant of the family, soon fol- lowed her master. Hertha, left alone in her home, with her sisters, was now possessed of nothing, excepting what she herself had acquired by her own^bor, and the small sum of money which was left her by Yngve. " We are now poor !" said she to her sisters, as she clasped • them' in her arms ; " but we are able to work ; we can earn our bread in the sweat of our brows and never complain, but on the contrary thank God. It will give us strength. Pro- raise me, never to say a word in accusation of our father !" Hertha wrote in her Diaiy at this time as follows : — "Tngve is gone, and with him all joy on earth. Work remains. And now — to work ! Work for .daily bread, for the dear sisters' future, and for that calling which God has given me. I shall not lay down my pilgrim's staff so long as this hand is able to hold it. But — I feel it already tremble. God ! be my stay and strengtheffSne, for the sake of my motherlessones !" 364 ^ HBBTHA. Without a complaint for that whioh was past, Hertha tm-ned with earnest zeal to the object which would henceforward alone support her and her sisters, as weU as render their future secure. But during the efforts which this required, and in conse- quence of the consuming agony of mind -through which she had p|issed, she soon became convinced, beyond a doubt, that she would not long be able to devote herself to her peculiar calling, and that her" career would be cut short. There is a malady which seizes upon women much more fre- quently than men, and especially on those who have been stricken by some sudden sorrow, or who have been, as it is said, worn out by a painftdly laborious life. As an insidious parasite of the tropics seizes upon the glorious Ceiba-tree, fixes itself in its soft bark> and grows, serpent-like, twining itself round its stem and branches, sucking up its, sap, until it lives upon a — corpse, such is this malady; it commonly first seizes upon those parts of the body which are most beautifiil and tender ; those out of which the fountains of life well forth, and thence extends its secret poison to the whole system. The name of this malady is not mentioned without a shudder, because it is known to belong to the incurable ; and that severe suffering accompanies it. Hertha was aware of her condition ; and kncviving it to be her duty to live and to work for Ker sisters, and for the great object of her life's endeavors, besides the natural horror which she had of the disease whose symptoms she believed she recog- nised in herself, she consulted Dr. Hedermann. He called her malady a "heart-complaint," but warned her of its consequences, and prescribed what physicians always prescribe, in such cases, rest from fatiguing labor ; as well as bathing and the water-cure. Hertha thanked him ; besought him not to betray her confidence on this subject ; and he left her without any idea that what' he had prescribed for her, was precisely that which her necessities prevented her making use of. But she would not allow such a confession to pass her pale lips. * THE ANGEL OF DEATH. 365 She told no one ; she allowed no one to have an idea of the truth as regarded herself. "With a calm, steady mien she arose, and summoned all her powers to fulfil the duties of each passing day, and left the future in the hand of God, in whose fatherly guidance ,she had firm trust — to whose inspiration she incessantly listened^ With ever watchful and warm kindness, and with eloquent lips, she stood among the young who gathered around her; she revived all who came to her for counsel or consolation with frankness and gypipathy, and none had any idea of the Nidhogg which gnawed at the root of her tree of life. Sometimes a deep sigh would force itself fi-om her breast, which many foncied when they heard it to be a sound of lamentation, but the sigh and the lamentation were so speed- ily repressed, as to be scarcely observable. Shp went out com- monly for an hour each day, accompanied by one of her pupils, for the benefit of fresh air. Sometimes it happened, on these occasions, that she would suddenly pause, and stand for a moment perfectly sUent. This was when she felt a faintness come on. Afterwards she would smile kindly and resume her walk and her conversation. Before long, however, the pro- gress of the destroyer became evident to all in the emaciated form, and she was no longer able to conceal from those who loved her, that the angel of Death was at her heart. 366 HBBTHA. ALL-HALLOWS'-REST Is the term applied, in some of the Swedish provinces, to a season which occurs generally at the commencement of No- vember, with All-Hallows' Eve. It may be, a few days, or perhaps a week at most, of perfectly, almost wonderfully calm "weather, which succeeds the October storms. The lakes he, like dark agate, at the feet of the mossy primeval mountains, reflecting them and the dark green forests, and every object, however minute, on their shores, in their calm, mirror-like sur&ce, with the most perfect fidelity, !N"ot a breath of air stirs ; not a bird twitters ; heaven is veiled, everything seems to rest and wait — ^the whole of Nature expresses a grand resignation, as it prepares itself to meet its fate, to enter its winterly grAve. Still ascends, fresh and soft, the fragrance of earth, from the forests and the leaf-clad primeval mountains ; but yet a'httle time, and it reposes stiff and cold beneath the white, enveloping shroud. ^ It knows it, and waits in — " the cahn of All-haUows." We may perceive something resembling this calm, during the latter periods of JHertha's history ; yet, at the same time, something more. Man, the lord of nature, does not, like nature, yield to fate only in passive submission ; he meets it, he bows himself before it, in the hving consciousness of the purpose of his change, and even at the approach of winter, prepares himself for the life of the new spring. It is his glorious privilege. This was deeply acknowledged by Hertha; and it gave a fresh trait of nobility to her not ordinary exterior, and endowed her with a new power over the minds of others. And if her calmness was frequently disturbed, and dark shadows at times fell over her peace, yet the feult of this AIJ^H A T.T.O'WS'-BEST. 3^1 lay less in herself than in the world -with which her honest soul had stiE to combat. ■ * They who saw her during the few months which preceded her decease, were for the most part greatly struck by her ap- j)earance and manners. One of these thus describes a visit paid to her. " I waited alone for a short time in the Iduna^hall, whilst I was announced, and occupied myself in contemplating its beautiful statues and blossom&g plants. I had not seen Hertha for rnany years, not since the time when I had con- sidered her a proud and somewhat disagreeable girl, evidently out of harmony -with heijself and the world. " Presently the door of the haU opened, and a noble figure, but wasted with early sickness, entered, supported on a staff with a white ivory head; in this form I*had difficulty in recognising the Hertha of former years. The ambitious and sometimes contemptuous character of her expression, whieh had formerly rather offended my self-love, was no longer ol^ei^yable. There was something perfectly fi'ank and friendly in 'ihe^Nciile Avith which she advanced to meet me. She seemed to be above all the petty feelings and thoughts of ttyis . world. It was in the beaming eye^ and the noble, arched forehead, that I was best able to recognise the former Hertha, yet these now bore an expression of quiet power and serenity which formerly was foreign to them. Every feature, every line of , her countenance- seemed to me to speak of a rich inward history. The strongly developed nostrils had no longer their somewhat arrogant expression, and all bitterness seemed changed to quiet melancholy. But above aU this, and over the whole countenance, beamed those splendid eyes with their transfiguring Hght. The hair which was put back from the temples allowed their singularly beautiful outline to be seen, whilst /a simple white, cambric kerchief, or veil, feR softly, shadowing as it were the head, and around the sunken cheeks. Hertha, as she now is, might serve as a model for a Sibyl, or for the Prophetess Vala, if the expression of patient power and of a deep maternal tenderness did not render her rather 368 HEKTHA. the type of the Maccabean woman, 'the mother of the Martyrs.' " I was *so affected by the sight of this noble rain, of the formerly stately woman, that I could scarcely restrain my tears. But she spoke so calmly and kindly to me that I soon became calmer, and listened with indescribable pleasuriB to her conversation, rich as it was in life's experience, and so filled with great thoughts for the future. She is severe in her demands from our sex, precisely because she estimates its vocation so highly. She spoke of her pupils with great ten- derness, and in particular praised most highly two young under-tesachers in the school. The old bitter' expression, both in voice and countenance, returned, however, when she spoke of the false views which parents take with regard to then- daughters' eduoauon, and of the impediments which our laws .place in the way of the development of young women. But the bitterness again disappeared before the trust and hope in the future. " She was unable to receive my daughters into her school, because she foresaw that she must shortly discontinue it, on account of her health, which will not permit her much longer to give the necessary attrition to it. This subject however she touched but lightly. I have been told that the physicians consider it improbable that she will hve over the year, and I left her with the sorrowful feeling that I should see and hear -her no more. I shall never forget the light in her glance, nor the affection which I saw beam from the eyes of the young, as I accompanied her into the school-room. AU seemed to know that she soon would be taken from them, and it was plain to see, both from her looks and their, eyes, how painful this parting would be." In the meantime, what was the state of that soul whose silent conflict and innermost longing no one knew but God and the friend who was no longer on earth ? We wiU obtaia our answer from entries in her diary. SELECTIONS FROM HERTHA'S DIARY. "It is now more than three years since I wrote anything ahont myself. After Yngve's departure, I lost, in some respects, interest in myself, and my time and thoughts were occupied in working to Uve. Now again I write in order to employ myself for I have now leisure. Upon the cliffs of Mar strand, with the great sea roaring around me, I enjoy a little season of rest, for the first time during many years. How beautiful, how dehghtfiil it is, for a little while to have nothing more to do than the flowers and the trees ; to bathe in the sunshine and be caressed by the winds. Yet I should not have come hither on my own account, because the soft air of " the Madeira of Sweden" cannot benefit me, even if it can do me any good, but my sister Maria requires sea-bathing ; her white lips and cheeks attest sufficiently that she suffers fi-bm the disease so common to young girls whose employment is sedentary, and who are devoted to teaching. Ah ! this life and labor is not proper for her, because she does not like it ; but in what other way, excepting this, can she earn her fiving ? I look around for her, but I call see nothing. She was not formed to struggle with poverty and want. Martha can go through this confiict much better; But will not the occupa^ tion which alone offers to her, that of housekeeper, drag down her upward-striving mind, and chain it to the petty, to the common, drag down her soul ? And what is her future ? " Sweden ! thou bringest up thy young daughters too much* in the spirit of the step-mother, and this will be avenged upon thy sons and daughters to the third and fourth generation. " August Ut. I accomplish this day my forty-first year. But I feel myself still young. I fancy I could now first right- 16* 370 HEEXHA. ly begin tp live for others, if only I had the time. Fresh feel- i ings, new thoughts, come up with the^fresh breezes fi-om the sea ; and views open vast as hifinite space. Could I develope — could I impart all that dawns within me ; but it cannot be on earth ; for I must shortly die, And I do not wish to live when I can no longer work. I wish not as a profitless burden to consume the httle that I may have to leave to rhy sisters, my beloved care-takers. Maria is benefited by the sea-bath- ing, the fresh country-Ufe, and I am also able to go out with her in boat-excursions among the rocks. " How fi-esh, land at the same time peculiarly Swedish, is the character of this scenery. The stranger sees only, iu the first instance, naked grey cliflFs, in the midst of the roaring waves ; everywhere rocky islands and reefs. He approaches them, and as if by magic, they open themselves, and reveal in the bosom of the rocks, charming groves and gardens, in which tall white lilies bloom, and ivy and wild honeysuckles clamber around the mossy granite. The vegetation is splendid in the little valleys at the foot of the mountains ; and from every point the visitor gazes out over the restless blue sea, and breathes its refi-eshing but soft air. Oh, this sea, how many thoughts it awakens — ^thoughts, which here on earth I shall never be able to work out. " August '1th. Is it the disease which gains ground, or is it this want of occupation which does not agree with me ? — ^but my sleeplessness increases, and bitter thoughts and feelings which I cannot bear, and from which I beseech of God to de- liver me, have again awoke. The sight of my sisters even awakes them, for what is to become of them when I am gone ? My fatherly ftiend, Judge Carlson, is also gone. My sisters have no Mend in the world, no support. Both are well gifted, but not extraordinary young women ; they are extraordinaiy ouly in their nobility of mind and their self sacrificing love. How difierent would have been their lot if they had been early accustomed to exercise their powers in a noble independence, in an atmosphere of freedom, and if the property which — silence ! sUence, bitter thought, silence. SELECTIONS PEOM HBBTHA'S DIABT. 3'?1 " God — all good Father, it is not thpe whom, my voice accuses, for thou hast declared woman to be free, and hast endowed her with manifold good gifts, and hast created the earth rich and beautiful. The bonds which thou hast laid upon her are those of love, are those of His spirit. Oh, how willingly do I bow myself before Thy laws. But before human statutes, which bind what Thou hast unbound, which close up the paths which Thou hast made open, which limit, which impoverish, which mete out the liberty which Thou hast given to all, which chp the wings of conscience and power that souls may be kept in the dust — ^before these statutes I will ■ never bow myself through all eternity, no ! and again no ! And those human beings who maintain them, who cry peace where there is no peace — ' They know not what they do ! Father, take this bitterness out of my heart, and give me thy peace, before I die !' - " August loth. The venomous serpent will not give way, and this is a sign to me that I must to my home, that I may work, work for others while it fe yet day. This will give me peace. I shall leave Maria in charge of Ingeborg Hedermann and return home with my Martha. " Iduna-haM, September. Again in my home with my accustomed surroundings, in my school, and I am better, cahner. There is, in the activity of the mind for others, a powerful, salutary influence. It is one of the renovating fruits of Iduna. " October. But I shall not much longer be able to work. I must give up my week-day school. My last moments must be devoted to my holiday-school. Dr. Hedermann assures' me that I shall not live over the winter. Thank God! I need not consume the little that I would leave to my sisters by a long iUness. "I had yet much to say to them and my other youmg Mends, but I must now concentrate all in one central point, in ' the one thing necessary,' for their well-being, their life. I will impress upon their hearts, or more correctly speaking their consciences, as forcibly as I myself feel it, their eternal 372 HEETHA. destination, their responsibility as human ieings, and fellow- noiembers of a commiuiity, embracing the whole human race, to unite it though Christ in God, with his heavenly communi- ty of free sanctified spiritual beings. And therefore be thou alone our teacher during the "remaining time, thou good Shepherd of Souls ! and may thy greatness and those views which thou openest into human life, nature, eternity, a new heaven and a new earth, obliterate everything small and circumscribed, and separate all iselfishness from the young, so that they may understand thy exhortation and thy love. "Then I shall die contented. Some one more fortunate than I may accomplish the work which I begun, but never- theless the work is begun, and I see around me a little flock which will combat for a better future in the name of truth and conscience." In the spring her Diary contains the following : — " April. Dr. Hedermann has deceived both himself and me. I still live, and may perhaps have long to live in this state. ' My sisters ! my sisters ! Is it I who shall make you poor ? I shall be obliged to sell, the drawing-room furniture and my silk dresses to pay the rent. I would so gladly have left them, Maria and Martha, to you my most tender nurses ! Father ! let me not live to become a burden to them, to impoverish them. " In May. I have not for a long time had a dr«am worth relating. But my last night's dream was beautiful. I yet once more saw the three ITomor, the stern, motherly three, whom I had often before beheld in mydreams; they appeared to come forth out of a gloomy forest, and beckoned me onward, as they again withdrew within its shadow. I obeyed their call, but not without a shudder, for the forest was very dark, and a cold wind struck upon my breast. But when I had entered, it opened its long columnar aisles, and the lofty pine-tree stems gave forth a delicious fragrance. In the depth of the temple of nature I saw, not the Nornor, but two figures who seemed like shadows ; but they advanced towards me, and ever" as they came nearer, they assumed distinct form, SELECTIONS FEOM HBETHA'S DIAET. 373 color, and radiant beauty. I recognised them. They were , Alma and Yngve ; they smiled and beckoned, and — ^I awoke with a throbbing heart, and with joy I perceived the signifi- cance of the dream. " August. My Iduna, aU my beloved statues, my library, my pictures are — sold to a rich man, who will Convert them into ornaments for his vDla. I have been compelled to sell them, that I may not lessen the small, necessary capital which I have set aside for my sisters. I endeavor to bear it with indifference, but it wrings my heart. Had I been able to retain my property, or had I lived long enough, I would have instituted in the IdunSrhail an Industrial School for girls and boys, and placed my clever Martha at its head, but — this plan of the future must be buried like many another. "Well, weU ! So must it be, ' Naked was I born into the world, and naked must I return out of it !' But yet for one more evening before the Iduna-hall is empty and desolate will I see my young sisters around me, the children of my soul, wUl talk with them — yet once more — for the last time." He who a couple of weeks later had seen the festive as- sembly in the Iduna-haU, one beautiful September afternoon, would not have had a presentiment that the silent, sorrowful guest, whose image the Egyptians had ever present at their festive entertainment as a " memento^mori," Death, also was present on this occasion, was here the secret "guest, so beauti- ful was the guise under which he was concealed ; so bright, so gay seemed the picture of life which was here lit up by the kindly beams of a bright autumn sun. There in its light might be seen a company of festally attired young girls, all in simple white, all with' real flowers in their hair, and in the midst of this group of young, graceful . creatures — many of whom were beautiful, whilst the countenances of all beafaed at this moment with an inward light which made all seem lovely — sate in her arm-chair, a tall and noble female figure, 374 HBETHA. she also attired in white, and one hand grasping a staff with a white ivory head, on which she supported herself, as with clear,, beaming glances, and an expression of unspeakable motherly kindness, she looked around her upon th^ young girls, and spo'ke to them. True, her countenance was ema- ciated, and -as it were furrowed by suffering, but something was yet there greater than suffering, something which pre- vailed above its_ traces with a wonderftd touch and daybreak, as it were, of beauty, and gave to it a light, a life, a transfigu- ration such as no artist, excepting the soul, can conjure up in the human countenance. She stiU carried her head nobly, and the expression of motherly love was blended in her eye with that of the inspired teacher. Those young girls profoundly recognised it. Delighted and humble, full of devoted affec- tion, they clung around herj and kissed her hands and her dress, and although she did not usually like or allow of caress- es, she permitted them on this occasion. She 'did not wish the young to have any idea that the purport of this festival was that of leave-taking, but there was a something about it which seemed to tell them its object, and which gave to their minds a profound and solemn impres- sion. Two of these young girls belonged to the highest class of society, other two were daughters of handicraft-workers ; the greater number belonged to the middle class ; they wei-e aU pupils of the Holiday School. At the feet of Iduna stood a table covered with flowers, tastefully arranged in vases of the antique fcaro, and with a rich proftision of the fruits of the seasoq. Hertha 'was wheeled forward in her ann-chair (the young girls were all emulous of this service) to the table; and here she partook of a meal with her young disciples, after having, in the name of all, thanked the giver of all good gifts, for these His gifts. Hertha had not for a long time felt her- self so free from pain, or so generally strong. The animation of the moment restored color to her cheeks ; her young pupils gazed at her with joy, and believed that she would be re- stored to life ; that she -would be regiven to them, and tears of joy glistened in many eyes. Whilst ^e, as hostess, distri- SBLECTIOlfS FEOM HEKTHA'S DIAET. 375 buted with liberal hand the most beautiful of the fruits to her young friends, she turned the conversation to the cultivation of fruit, to the vocation of man as the ennobler of nature, and as usual she endeavored to awaken the thoughts of the young'* to that portion of the labor which belonged especially to woman, inducing them to express their own sentiments on this ■Subject, and, as ever, giving her own guiding, Uving * thoughts on the subject. She referred to the womanly influ- ence partly by means of a developed sense of beauty, partly also, practical, by means of garden-cultivation.' She referred to the beautiful myth of Iduna and her apples, as a symbol of woman's relationship to nature and mankind. The Garden of Eden gleamed forth, as it were, in her representation of the earthly garden. Olof E., the only young man present at the festival, read, according to Hertha's programme, a short treatise on " Man as the ennobler of nature." This young man took a clear view of his subject, for which he had a profound feeling, and his thoughts accorded in every respect with Hertha's. Never- theless he was not now listened to with the attention which he deserved. The young people, it was evident, would, at this moment, rather listen to Hertha alone. When the cheerftil meal was ended, she again collected them*- around her, as was her custom in the hours of conversation, and requested their attention to what she had to say to them ; and no one can describe the profound attention with which their glances, their souls, hung, as it were, on the lips of their be- loved instructress, whom they would now hear for the last time. The feeble and sometimes broken voice, the superna- tural glance of her eye, all told them this. Eor the first time she now related to them portions of her own life's history ; avoiding the mere outward, but speaking of the inner ; of her soul's conflict, yearning, seeking, and despair until her meeting with Yngve. She spoke of him — oh ! with what expression, with what tones she spoke of him, of how by his integrity, his goodness, his profound knowledge, he gave peace and light to her soul, and reconciled her to life. 376 HEBTHA. She then spoke of the covenant into which they had entered on behalf of those whose sufferings and desires she understood ..better than most, because she had herself experienced them ; she Spoke of the plans which they had laid for its accomplish- ■ment. " It became my lot," continued Hertha, " to carry out alone that which we had planned together, and therefore it has been imperfectly and only partially done. Ah ! I am my- self only a fragment of the human being, of the teacher which I might have been for you if but the state, of tutelage in which my youth was held, my long twilight, and still later my grief for the loss of my departed^ friend, have diminished my power, have bowed me so early. Love for you, my eMLdren, has supported me ; still I have not been to you what I might have been, what I wished to be. Let your youthful powers, your earnest wishes, conapensate for my deficiencies, and attend at this moment to my words as to those of a dying friend! Enter resolutely into God's service, as laborers in his vineyard ; this wiQ give you strength to bear much, to overcome much, to give up much, and yet never to feel your- selves forsaken or poor. Gifts are manifold, and employments in this world are manifold, but ' the Lord is One,' as the '^^postle says, and in all these we can serve the one. The world is great ; God is greater ; and all that is in the world is his, and created for his glory. The sun in the firmament and the least flower in the meadow alike testify of Him. Thus must you young women, also, testify Of Him, but in a higher significance. Do you know why I invited you this day to come to me, attired as for a festival? It i.s because I am pleased to see you so, and that I may impress it upon your hearts, to stand forth, with the best and the most beautiful which you have received from God, as witnesses of Him and his truth. Dedicate all those gifts, both outward and inward, which commonly belong to youth, and which so often minister to vanity, dedicate them to Him, the Supreme ! Become his servants in beauty and in truth. Scorn to serve anything lower. Elevate, ennoble, the meanest object of earth by con- SELECTIONS FEOM HEKTHA'S BIAET. 31*1 secrating it to his service. Fear not, if it be necessary, to stand forth as the witnesses to his truth in the world ; but do it nobly as beings guided by his inspiration. God has per^* mitted his latest work on earth to retain — even after the fall — a perpetual memory of her first love and yearning towards Him and his revelation. Guard this yearning towards Him as your most sacred inheritance ; and listen to. God's voice in it ; — obey its promptings ; let not the sacred fire be extinguished on the- altar of your hearts ; otherwise it wiU become extin- guished in the communities of earth. Let it bm-n ever more clearly, ever higher, stronger for all that is noble, good, right, true, divine ; then wiU it penetrate, warm, and elevate all the generations of the earth. " Show yourselves, both by word and deed, by the whole of your conduct in Ufe, worthy of the freedom, the self-respon- sibility, which you have a right to demand from the laws of your country, and-^it wiU be conceded to you or your succes- sors. Force conviction on all, but do it through your own worthiness.' " Look around you in the world without fear, with no timid or limited glance, and then ask, ' What is it that God requires of me ? ' Ask honestly ; and according to the answer He gives — ^that do, that become. But ask, like Mary, sitting at the feet of Christ. Avoid pride, and not the less, false humility and slavish subjection to the opinion of the world. Cultivate esteem for yourself, as a witness of eternal truth on earth. Oh, young women ! your vocation is great, your future glorious , in the service of the Most Holy. Devote yourselves to this with sacred earnestness, resolutely, courageously, humbly, but steadfastly, and — everything else will be given you, through Him. You may, in the beginning, encounter opposition, mis- trust, ridicule, scorn, and hard judgment from many people, but persevere patiently ; do not suflfer anything or any one to deprive you of your hope in the ftiture, your faith in the Redeemer ! They will conquer and you with them, for yourself and for numbefs !^But I must ipake an end ; — I shall soon leave you; God calls me hence! Xet me carry 378 HEETHA. hence with me the hope of youi- fidelity to your highest voca- tion, and — I shall die contented, hecause— >-I shall not then ^ have- lived in vain ! " She ceased to speak. The' fever-flush crimsoned her cheeks, and her bright eyes glanced with solemn earnestness around her, inquiringly and searohingly, on the young people who sftrrounded hgr. They all arose and approached her ; one after the o'ttier, knelt before her, and laid their heads on her knees. She let fall her staff, and with both her feeble hands raised each of these youthful heads, gazed into their tearful eyes, and blessed them with her looks, kissed their foreheads, and gave to each one a few words of love and a parting gift.| " Farewell ! We shall meet again ! " were the last words she whispered, as she finally took leave of them by a glance and wave of 'her hand. *After this evening Hertha admitted no one to her privacy excepting her sisters, her young fiiend Olof E., and her phy. sieian, so great were her sufferings. She passed her days and nights sitting in her easy chair, with but few hours of sleep, and almosttunable to take food. It was a pleasure to her to be read to, in particular those portions of the Holy Scriptures in which large views of the word's emancipation were enun- ciated. She then raised her head ; her eyes were again bright as of old, whUst they gazed, as they had so often done before, into the distance, beholding, as it were, some great and glorious vision. Her intellect remained clear, and the expres- sion of her countenance retained its serenity, excepting in those few moments when it was darkened by suffering or some bitter memory. To the very last she occupied hersellj from time to time, with writing ; noting down various things which she was no* longer able to impart to her young disciples by word of mouth, and often also made entries in her Diary. A few days before her death she wrote as follows : — " Thank God, it will soon be all over with me ! I need be here no longer a burden to my friends. In the other state I may, perhaps, watch over and work for them as a Guardian Angel. They who circumscribe our private history, our relationships SELECTIONS EBOM HBKTHA'S DIAET. 379 of inendship merely to our time on earth, have not understood all that the Gospel can teach us. " My sight becomes dim ; any hand tremhles ; — ^but my ^ mind, my heart, are still young ! Alma ! Tngve ! I come to you with a soul ftill of love and athirst for knowledge,- that I may with you, or through you — ^if I am but worthy of it — behold the glory of God." ' Shortly before her death Hertha again wrote in her Diary, as if to dissipate uneasy and distm-bing thoughts — "Frequently in my youth, under an impression of my own righteousness, I was severe and unsparing in my judgment of others, and spoke with harshness whatever I regarded as right and true. I have done the same within these last days. A distant relative, who lost his property through my father, wrote to me, ' All your misfortunes might have been avoided if you had in time compelled your father to render you an account of your inherited property, and had availed yourself of the means which our Swedish laws provide to obtain your liberty. Then you might have married Tngve, he would have lived ; you would not, as now, have killed yourselfi with work, and your sisters would have been well provided for or estar blished in life. Everything would then ,have been different. Do not let us throw the blame upon laws and upon circum- stances, of that which is the consequence of om- own indeci- sion or fear of the world's judgment.' "These words have wounded me deeply. Have I really been the cause of all this ?^have I erred so much ? Tngve, is it I who have dug thy early gi'ave ? My sisters, is it I who have destroyed your future ? I cannot see. I cannot clearly understand things now. Disease has weakened me. , The shadows of death encompass me. Oh, this is a bitter c'ffp ! God be merciful to me !" The following words, without date, are written with a steadier hand, but in much^ larger characters, as by one half- blind: " I have wished to do right ; I have obeyed the command 380 HEETHA. of God and my own conscience. If I erred in so doing, if in ftilfilling one duty I neglected others, then — ^the fault is my own. I could not do otherwise, and — ^I have been the greatest sufferer. Before God I stand justified, because of my honest intentions, but — " My country ! thou whom I loved so much, whom I wished to serve with my whole soul and my whole strength, but who didst lightly esteem my soul and my strength, thou -whom 1 nevertheless bless for the good thou gavest me; towards whose honorable future I still look amid the shadows of death, to thee I confide my motherless ones. Be to them a tenderer mother than thou hast been to me. Give to them, for the sake of thine own future, give to aU thy daughters; that which thou hast denied to me ; Freedom ; a Future ; . a Home for the Life of the Soul. For myself I desire nothing more. My pilgrim's staff is laid down : my pilgrimage is ended ; I lift my liands confidingly Up to God's holy hiUl KUNGSKOPING PEOPLE. Nbvbb had any person's illness and* last moments caused so universal an interest and sympathy throughout the whole % social circles of Kungskoping, as those of Hertha? But there were very few of the better families of the town of which a daughter or other relative had not been educated at * her school, and who had not to thank her for having given them a higher and more beautiful conception, of life. When she was gone, they sung her praises in chorus, and fine poems, warm from the inspiration of the heart, were composed in her honor. During her long sickness aU kinds of things were sent to her which it was thought would please or comfort her, nor would greater gifts have been withheld if Hertha by one word would have allowed it. But her inborn pride forbade this. She only besought fi-om her nearest friends that they would be kind to her sisters when she was dead. And was it piety towards her memory, or the effect of that heavenly guardianship, which Hertha sometimes pleased herself with the idea of being able to afford her' sisters, when she was gone, but certain it is that people were kind to them, and that a propitious star seemed to rule their lives. Already before Hertha's death had Olof E ■ — arid Hertha's sister, Maria, become sincerely and devotMly attached to each other, and now when we take our leave of them, we see Olof E promoted to a situation which enables him to offer his hand and a safe position in life to his gentle Maria. Martha, it is said, is nominated to the super- • intendence of an Industrial School, which some of the Kungs- koping people have instituted in memory of Hertha, for 382 HBBTHA. *y©ung girls, and for which they repurchased the, statues which she had destined for it. The spirit of life and of love for a higher development, which she had awoke, survived her, and stiU. Uves in the town. Hence it is that the good pastor's wife lived to see the fulfilment of her wishes for the Infant-school. Who hecame th§ teacher afber Amalialeft the town to join her husband at some' other placej we know not. After Marie Dufva'si mar- riage, the pastor and his wife obtained a new daughter for their house, and they are yet wishing for another. The gpod couple have stiU room in their house and room in their hearts. ■ Mimmi Svanberg still continued her manifold activity as , " town councillor " in the town, even after she was married to a wealthy man of the place. Her prot6g6e, the bright-eyed, but lame little singer, Mina, is appointed singing-mistress in the Infant-school, and divides, her innocent cheeriul hfp be- .tween this and her now much happier piOther's home (one of the good works of the Family Union), and never, on the face of the earth, did a lame being more resemble a singing-bird, in life and disposition. Mrs. Tii^plander continues to give coffee-parties; to contend against the principles of this age " without rule or morahty," and bitterly complains that Miss KrusbjSrn is more and more infected by them, and actually defends them. Professor Methodius stUl has not brought his system into .operation, nor has Protocol-secretary N .B. written his book against Ladies' Societies. He' has, however^ done mu«h better ; he has become a member of a private lady's society — he is r^iarried to Mimiiii Svanberg. Mrs.Uggla, who can no longer sigh over the seven Miss Dufvas, nor her own daughter Ingeborg's many daughters, inasmuch as she has only one and two sons, nor yet sigh over her daughter's fate, has now taken it upon herself to sigh over ..the five Miss Hoppenstedts and the seven .Miss TJgglas (her relations) and their uncertain prospects. In conclusion, we will speak of two persons in whom Hertha KUNGSKOPING PEOPLE. 383 had great interest, and with whom, she was in constant inter- course while she lived, though we have hut little to say of them. Rudolph — " poor Rudolph," as Hertha used to call him, . continued his pedestrian pilgrimage for several years. Every now and then Hertha received a letter from him in which was a small sum of money " for the sufferers by the fire." After Hertha's death all intelligence of him ceased, and it is probable that he did not long survive her. By his letters it was evident that he found neither rest nor repose on earth, but was continually pursued by the memory of the terrible night of the fire, as well as by a voice which seemed to call to him " hence ! hence !" But he also heard another voice which caused him to raise his head and his eyes upwards, and which repeated, " thither ! thither !" A voice which whispered of a God greater than our own heart, one who knows all things and with whom there is much forgiveness. And as there are huma,n comets which in the course of their eccentric career are seen for a little time above our horizon and then never more return] but may be attracted by other planetary systems, and in their orbit find order and rest, so are there also among mankind iiebulosities which never during their earthly lifetime are able to fashion themselves to a decided nucleus ; and even fiir these we look confidingly to Him who can and wiU perfect all His work. He has placed the one human being as a sun to the other, and thus we see Rudolph, the poor " son of the twihght," through his connexion with Hertha, advancing on his way to light and life. Eva Duftra lived, Egeria-like, concealed in the sacred grove, where she, through influence, rather than by words, impacted a beautiful doctrme of life's wisdom to all who came negr her. Long may she blossom at the Parsonage, pretty, and fre^-as a rose, and, though in time withering and growing old as ofher roses, still will she retain an imperishable fi-agrance of youth in her quiet, active life as daughter, friend, and mother to fatherless little ones. She will never marry; her only passion in this world was Hertha. '"K: nil ' I M- "^ wi^ ,.:r