Then there was a long pause ; Baard felt the
sweat upon his brow, although the night was
oTbc Schoolmaster's Storjj. 35
cold. He heard the wife busy with the kettle ;
the fire blazed and crackled, a little baby cried
now and then, and Anders rocked the cradle.
Then she said these few words, " I believe
you both think of each other without admitting
it."
" Let us talk of something else," said Anders.
Soon after, he rose and went towards the door ;
Baard hid himself in the stick house, but just
there Anders came to get wood. Baard crouched
in the corner, and could see him distinctly ; he
had doffed the poor clothes he wore at church,
and had taken instead the uniform he had
brought home from the war, the same as Baard's,
and which they had promised each other never
to use, but to descend as heirlooms in the
family. Anders' was now all patched and torn.
His strong well-built body seemed enveloped in
a bundle of rags, and at the same moment
Baard heard the gold watch ticking in his own
pocket. Anders went to the spot where the
36
wood lay, but instead of taking it he stood and
leaned against the pile, and gazing up into the
heavens, where the stars shone bright and clear,
he gave a sigh and said, "Yes, yes, yes,
my God ! my God !"
So long as Baard lived these words sounded
in his ears. He stepped forward towards him,
but just then his brother coughed, and it felt so
hard that he stopped. Anders took the bundle
of wood, and passed so close to Baard that the
branches touched his face. There he stood,
without moving, till a cold shudder ran through
him. This aroused him ; he went out, and con-
fessed to himself that he was too weak to face
his brother, and he therefore resolved upon
another plan. In the corner of the stick-house
he found a few pieces of charcoal ; then he
selected a piece of fir wood for a torch, went up
to the hay-loft, and struck fire. When he had
got the torch lighted, he sought for the nail
where Anders would hang his lamp when he
<fbr Schoolmaster's Storg. 37
came in the morning to thrash. On this nail
Baard hung the gold watch, blew out the light,
and went down ; he felt so light-hearted that
he sprang over the snow like a young lad.
The day after, he heard that the hay-loft had
been burnt down the same night. Undoubtedly
a spark must have fallen from his torch while
he turned to hang up the watch.
This overpowered him so that he sat all day
as though he were ill ; then he took the psalm
book out and sang, so that the people in the
house could not think what was the matter.
But in the evening he went out. It was bright
moonlight ; he made his way to the ruins of the
hay-loft, and groped among the ashes. There,
sure enough, he found a little lump of gold ; it
was the watch.
It was with this in his hand, he went to his
brother that evening as before related, and
sought for a reconciliation.
A little girl had seen him groping among the
38
ashes. He had also been observed going to-
wards the farm the foregoing Sunday evening ;
the people in the house told how strangely he
had behaved on Monday ; everybody knew that
he and his brother were not on good terms, and
he was reported and brought up for trial.
Nothing could be proved against him, but sus-
picion rested on him, and now more than ever
it seemed impossible to approach his brother.
Though Anders had said nothing, he had
thought of Baard when the hay-loft was burnt,
and when the evening after, he saw him enter the
room looking so pale and strange, he at once
concluded that now remorse had struck him,
but for such an offence, and against his own
brother, there was no pardon. On hearing the
circumstantial evidence against him, though
nothing had been proved at the trial, he firmly
believed that Baard was guilty. They met each
other at the trial, Baard in his good clothes, and
Anders in threadbare. Baard looked up as he
|u Schoolmaster's Storg. 39
went in, with so imploring a glance that Anders
felt it deeply. " He does not want me to say
anything," thought Anders, and when he was
asked if he believed his brother guilty, he
answered clearly and decidedly, " No."
From that day Anders took to drinking, and
matters grew worse and worse with him. With
Baard it was little better, although he never
drank ; he was not like himself.
Late one evening a poor woman entered the
little room where Baard lived, and begged him
to go with her. He knew her : it was his
brother's wife. He understood the errand she
had come upon, turned deadly pale, and fol-
lowed without a word. There was a flickering
light from the window of Anders' room that
served to guide them, for there was no pathway
over the snow. They reached the house and
went in. On entering, Baard felt at once that
here reigned poverty ; the room was close ; a
little child sat on the hearth eating a piece of
4 ft) fa i it & .
charcoal : its face was black all over, but it
looked up with its white teeth and grinned.
There on the bed, with all sorts of clothes to
cover him, lay Anders, thin and worn, with his
clear high forehead, looking mildly upon him.
Baard trembled in all his limbs, he sat down on
the bed foot, and burst into tears. The sick
man continued silently looking at him. At
last he told his wife to withdraw, but Baard
signed to her to remain, and the two brothers
began to speak together. They related each
his history, from the day when they bid on the
watch to the time they now met together, and it
was clearly shown that during all these years
they had never been happy for a single day.
Baard finished by taking out the little lump of
gold, which he always carried about with him.
Anders was not able to talk much, but as
long as he was ill, Baard continued to watch by
his bedside. " Now I am perfectly well," said
Anders, one morning when he awoke, " Now,
|je Schoolmaster's Storjr. 4 1
my brother, we will always live together as in
the olden time !" But that day he died.
Baard took the wife and the child to live with
him, and they were well cared for from that
time. That which the brothers had said to
each other was soon known through the village,
and Baard became the most esteemed man
among them. Everybody met him as one who
had known great sorrow and again found joy,
or as one who had been long absent. Baard felt
strengthened by all this friendliness around him,
he loved God more, and felt a desire to be use-
ful ; so the old corporal became a schoolmaster.
That which he impressed first and last upon his
pupils, was love, and this precept was so ex-
emplified in himself, that the children were
attached to him as to a play-fellow and father
at the same time.
This was the story told of the old school-
master that had such effect upon Ovind, that
it became to him both religion and education.
D
42 (Obinfc.
He looked upon the schoolmaster as a being
almost supernatural, although he sat there so
familiarly and corrected them. Not to know
his lessons was impossible, and if, after saying
them well, he got a smile or a stroke of the
head, he was glad and happy for the whole day.
It always made a strong impression upon the
children when, before singing, the schoolmaster
would sometimes speak a little to them, and, at
least once a week,, read aloud a few verses about
loving your neighbour. As he read the first of
these verses his voice trembled, although he had
now continually read it for twenty or thirty years.
It ran thus :
" Be kind to thy neighbour and scorn him not,
Though virtue and beauty be all forgot,
And no light is seen from above ;
Remember he too has a soul to save,
He must live again when beyond the grave r
Then forget not the power of love !"
But when the whole of the piece was said, and
he had stood still a little while, he looked at
<|je Schoolmaster's Siorg. 43
them and blinked with his eyes, " Up children,
and go nicely and quietly home, go nicely, that
I may hear nothing but good of you, bairns I"
Then, while they hastened to find each his own
things, he called out through the noise, " Come
again to-morrow, come in good time, little girls
and little boys, that we may be industrious."
CHAP. IV.
TWO BRIGHT BUTTONS AND ONE BLACK.
F his life, till one year before con-
firmation, there is not much to relate.
He read in the mornings, worked in
the afternoons, and played in the evenings.
As he was very lively the children of the
neighbourhood sought his company during play
hours. Close to the farm lay a great hill, as be-
fore mentioned, where, on a fine day, they
assembled to drive their sledges on the snow.
Ovind was always master in the field : he had
two sledges, " Quick Trotter," and " Superior."
The last he lent out, and the first he used him-
self, takincr Marit with him.
<Ttoo "Iriqht Buttons anb (One *3Iach. 45
The first thing Ovind did when he awoke in
the morning, was to look out and see if it was
fine weather ; if it was thick and misty, or he
heard it dripping from the roof, he dressed as
slowly as if there was nothing to be done that
day. But on the contrary, and especially on
holidays, if it was sharp, cold, and clear weather,
his best clothes and no work, the whole of the
afternoon and evening free, hey ! he bounded
out of bed, was dressed like lightning, and could
scarcely eat anything for excitement. When
afternoon came he sprang over the hill to the
sledge ground, and joined the party with a long
shout that echoed from cliff to cliff, and the
sound died far away. Then he looked for
Marit, and when he found her there, he did not
take much more notice of her.
Now one Christmas the boy and the girl were
both about sixteen or seventeen years of age,
and they were both to be confirmed in the
Spring. In Christmas week there was to be a
46 (Dbinb.
grand party at Heidegaard, where Marit's
grand-parents lived, who had brought her up
and educated her. They had promised her this
fte for three years, and now at last they were
obliged to fulfil their word. To this party
Ovind was invited.
It was a dull evening, not a single star to be
seen ; it would probably rain next day. There
were great drifts of snow along the mountain
side, with here and there bare places, and again
the groups of birch trees standing isolated and
conspicuous against the white back ground.
The farmstead lay in the middle of the fields
on the mountain side, and in the darkness the
houses looked like black clumps from which the
light streamed first from one window then from
another. It seemed as though they were busy
inside. Old and young flocked thithej from
different directions. No one liked to go in first ;
so when they reached the farm, instead of going
direct to the house, they loitered about the out-
Cfeo Bright JBullons anb <9iu glack. 47
buildings. Some hid Behind the cattle shed, a
few under the granary, some stood beside the
hay-loft and imitated foxes, while others re-
plied in the distance as cats ; one stood behind
the bakehouse and howled like an angry old
dog, until there was a general chase. The girls
came by-and-bye in great numbers, accom-
panied by their younger brothers, who would
fain conduct themselves as grown-up men.
i
The girls were very shy, and when the older
youths already assembled came out to meet
them, they ran away in all directions, and had
to be brought in one by one. A few there were
who would not be persuaded to enter, till Marit
came herself and bade them. Now and then
there also came a few who had certainly not
been invited, and whose intention had been
simply to look on from outside, but who, seeing
the dancing, at last ventured in just for one
single turn. Marit invited those she liked best
into the private sitting room where her grand-
48 Obinb.
parents sat, and they fared exceedingly well.
Now Ovind was not of the number, and this he
thought very strange.
The grand fiddler of the neighbourhood could
not come until late, so they had to content
themselves with the old gardener, known by the
name of "Grey Knut." He could play four
dances, two Spring dances, a hailing,* and a
waltz. When they tired of these, they made
him vary the hailing to suit a quadrille, and a
Spring dance in the same way to the mazurka
polka.
The party being at her grandfather's house,
Marit was dancing nearly all the time, and this
the more drew Ovind's attention to her. He
wished to dance with her himself, and therefore
he sat during one round in order to spring to her
side the moment the dance was done ; and this
he succeeded in doing, but a tall, dark-looking
* The " Spring dance" and " Hailing" are the national
dances of the country.
luight Buttons ;inb (Due 5l:ich. 49
fellow with black hair, stepped suddenly for-
ward ; " Away, child !" he cried, and pushed
Ovind that he nearly fell over Marit. Never
before had he known such behaviour, never had
any one been so unkind to him, and never had he
been called " Child !" in that contemptuous way.
He blushed crimson, but said nothing, and
turned back to where the new fiddler, who had
just entered, had seated himself, and now tuned
up. Every one stood still, waiting to hear the
first strong tones of " Himself;" they waited
long while he tuned the fiddle, but at last he
began with a " Spring ;" the lads stepped out,
and, pair by pair, they quickly joined in the
dance. Ovind looked at Marit as she danced
with the dark-haired man ; he saw her smiling
face over the man's shoulder, and for the first
time in his life he felt a strange pang at his
heart.
He looked more and more earnestly at her,
and it came forcibly before him that Marit was
5 (Dbinb.
now quite grown up. " And yet it cannot be,"
thought he, " for she is still playing with us in
the sledges." But grown she certainly was, and
the dark-haired man drew her to him at the end
of the dance ; she loosened herself from his
clasp but continued to sit by his side.
Ovind looked at the man : he wore a fine
blue cloth suit, and fancy shirt, and carried a
silk pocket handkerchief; he had a small face,
deep blue eyes, laughing defying mouth ; he
was good looking. Ovind looked long at him,
and at last he looked at himself. He had got
new trousers for Christmas, which had much
pleased him, but now he saw they were only of
gray homespun ; his jacket was of the same
material but old and dark ; his vest of common
plaided cloth, also old, and with two bright
buttons and one black. He looked round and
thought very few were so poorly clad as he.
Marit wore a black bodice of fine stuff, a brooch
in her necktie, and had a folded silk pocket hand-
anb ne $latk. 51
kerchief in her hand. She had a little black
head-dress fastened under the chin with broad
striped silk ribbons ; she was red and white ;
she smiled, and the man talked to her and
laughed ; the fiddler tuned up, and the dance
must begin again.
One of his companions came and sat by him.
" Why don't you dance, Ovind ?" he said
kindly.
" Oh ! no !" said Ovind, " I don't look like
dancing."
" Don't look like dancing !" said his com-
panion ; but before he could get further, Ovind
interrupted him,
" Who is that in the blue cloth suit, dancing
with Marit ?"
" That is Jon Hatlen ; he has been at the
Agricultural School, and is now to take the
farm."
At the same moment Jon and Marit seated
themselves.
52 (Dbiitb.
" Who is that light-haired lad sitting there by
the fiddler and staring at me ?" said Jon.
Then Marit laughed and said, " Oh ! that's
the peasant's son at the little farm."
Ovind had always known that he was a
peasant's son, but until now he had never felt
it. He felt now so insignificant, that in order
to keep himself up, he tried to think of every-
thing that had ever made him feel proud, from
the sledge playing to the smallest word of com-
mendation. But when he thought of his father
and mother sitting at home, and picturing him
happy and glad, he could scarcely refrain from
tears. All about him were laughing and joking ;
the fiddler thrummed close under his ear ; it
seemed to darken before his eyes ; then he re-
membered the school with all his companions,
and the schoolmaster who was so kind to him,
and the pastor, who, at the last examination, had
given him a book and said he was a clever lad ;
his father even, who sat by, hearing it had given
Bright Cottons snb nt $latk. 53
him a smile. " Be a good boy, Ovind," he
could fancy he heard the schoolmaster say,
taking him on his knee as though he were still
a child. " Dear me, it is so small a matter, and
in reality they are all kind, it only looks as
though they were not, we two shall get on
Ovind, as well as Jon Hatlen, we shall get good
clothes, and dance with Marit, a fine room, a
hundred people, smile and talk together, go to
church together, chiming bells, a bride and
bridegroom, the pastor and I in the vestry, all
with gladsome faces, and mother at home, a
large farm, twenty cows, three horses, and Marit
good and kind as at school "
The dance over, Ovind saw Marit oppo-
site to him, and Jon sat by her side, his face
close to hers ; he felt again the sharp pain at
his heart, and it was as if he said to himself,
" Yes, I am not well."
At the same moment Marit rose and came
direct over to him. She bent down to speak to
54
him, " You must not sit and stare at me in
that way," she said, " the people will notice it ;
now go and dance with some one."
He did not answer, but looked at her, and
the tears came into his eyes. She had already
turned to go, but observing it she stopped.
She blushed crimson, turned and went to her
place, then turned again and took another seat.
Jon quickly followed her.
Ovind rose and went out ; he passed through the
house, and sat down on the steps of the adjacent
porch, but did not know what he did it for. He
got up, but sat down again, for he would not go
home, and thought he might as well be there as
anywhere else. He could not realise anything
of what had happened, and he would not think
about it, neither would he think of the future,
it seemed so void.
" But what is it that I am thinking of?" he
asked himself half aloud, and when he heard his
own voice, he thought, " I can still speak ; can
fttoo grigbt Buttons anfc One glsth. 55
I laugh ?" And he tried : yes, he could laugh,
and he laughed louder and louder, and then it
seemed so curious to be sitting there quite alone
and laughing, that at last he laughed at himself.
Now Hans his companion, who had been
sitting by him in the dancing-room, had come
out after him, " Bless me, Ovind, what are
you laughing at !" he exclaimed, and stopped in
front of the porch.
Then Ovind ceased. Hans remained stand-
ing, as if waiting to see what would happen
next. Ovind got up, looked carefully round,
and then said in a low tone, " Now I will tell
you, Hans, why I have been so happy hitherto ;
it is because I have not really cared for any-
body ; from the day we care for any one we are
no longer glad ;" and he burst into tears.
" Ovind !" a voice whispered out in the
garden ; " Ovind !" He stood still and lis-
tened ; " Ovind !" it said again a little louder.
It must be, he thought.
56 (Qbittfc.
" Yes," he answered also in a whisper, dried
his eyes quickly, and stepped forth. Then he
saw a woman's figure slowly approaching,
" Are you there ?" said she.
" Yes," he answered, and stopped.
" Who is with you ?"
" Hans."
Hans would go ; but Ovind said " No ! no !"
She now came slowly up to them ; it was
Marit.
" You went so soon away," she said to Ovind.
He did not know what to reply. This made
her feel embarrassed, and they were all three
silent. Then Hans gradually withdrew. The
two now stood alone, but they neither looked at
each other nor moved. Then Marit said in a
whisper, " I have gone the whole evening with
this Christmas fare in my pocket for you, Ovind,
but I have not been able to give it you before."
She then drew out some apples, a slice of yule
cake, and a little bottle of home-made wine.
Cfoo $rig|jt Buttons anb $iu $latk. 57
which she pushed to him and said he could
keep.
Ovind took it. " Thank you," he said, and
held out his hand ; her's was warm ; he let it
go quickly as if he had burnt himself.
" You have danced a great deal this evening."
" I have so," she replied ; then added, " but
you have not danced much !"
" No, I have not !"
" Why have you not ?"
" Oh !"
" Ovind !"
" Yes."
" Why did you sit and look at me so ?"
" Oh !"
" Marit !"
" Yes."
" Why did you not like me to look at you ?"
" There were so many people."
" You have danced a great deal with Jon
Hatlen this evening !"
58 binb.
" Oh ! yes."
" He dances well."
" Do you think so ?"
" Don't you ?"
" Why yes !"
" I don't know how it is, but this evening I
cannot bear to see you dance with him, Marit !"
He turned away; it had cost him much to say
it.
" I don't understand you, Ovind."
" I don't understand it myself; it is stupid of
me. Goodbye, Marit, now I must go."
He went a step without looking round ; then
she called after him, " It is a mistake that
which you have seen, Ovind !"
He stopped, " That you are grown up is at
least no mistake," said he.
He did not say what she had expected, and
therefore she was silent ; but at this moment
she saw the light of a pipe before her ; it was
her grandfather who had just turned the corner
Ctoo Bright Buttons anb <Ehu $JlHth. 59
and now passed by. He stood still. " Are you
there, Marit ?"
" Yes."
" Who are you talking with ?"
" Ovind."
" Who did you say ?"
" Ovind Pladsen."
" Oh ! the peasant lad at the little farm !
Come in directly !"
CHAP. V.
A NEW AIM IN LIFE.
HEN Ovind awoke the next morning
it was from a long refreshing sleep,
and happy dreams. Marit had
been on the mountain and tossed grass down
upon him ; he had gathered it up and thrown it
back again ; it went up and down in a thousand
shapes and colours, the sun stood high in the
heavens, and the whole mountain looked
dazzling in its brightness. On awaking, he
looked round to see it all again ; but then he
remembered the events of the day before, and
the same acute stinging pain at his heart re-
turned. This will never leave me, he thought,
in fife. 61
and a feeling of helplessness came over him, as
though the whole future were lost to him.
" You have slept long," said his mother, as
she sat by his side and spun, " Come now, and
get your breakfast, your father is already in the
forest, hewing wood."
It was as if the voice helped him ; he got up
with a little more courage. It may be the
mother remembered her own dancing time, for
she sat and hummed at her wheel whilst he
took breakfast. This he could not bear ; he
rose from the table and went to the window ;
the same heaviness and indifference possessed
him, but he sought to overcome it by thinking
of his work. The weather had changed, it was
colder, and that which yesterday threatened for
rain fell to-day in wet sleet. He put on his
sailor's jacket and mittens, his gaiters, and a
skin cap, then said " Good morning," and took
his axe on his shoulder.
The snow fell slowly in great white flakes ;
62
he trudged laboriously over the sledge hill to
enter the forest from the left. Never before,
either Winter or Summer, had he passed over
the sledge hills without some joyful remem-
brance or happy thought. Now it was a life-
less, weary way ; he dragged through the wet
snow, his knees were stiff, either from dancing
the day before or from lack of energy. He felt
that the sledge play was at an end for this year,
and, therefore, for ever. Something else he
longed for, as he threaded his way among the
trees where the snow fell noiselessly ; a fright-
ened ptarmigan screamed and fluttered a few
yards off, and everything seemed to stand as
though waiting for a word that never was said.
But what it was that he longed for he could not
exactly tell, only it was not to be at home, nor
was it to be anywhere else ; it was not pleasure,
nor work, it was something high above or far
away. Shortly after, it shaped itself into a de-
finite wish ; it was to be confirmed in the
glim in ife. 63
Spring, and there to be number one. His heart
beat as he thought of it, and before he could
hear the sound of his father's axe among the
branches, this desire had stronger hold of him
than any he had ever known since he was born.
As usual his father did not speak many words
to him ; they both hewed, and threw the wood
together in heaps. Now and then they came