Ovind: A Story Of Country Life In Norway Part 8

"And if you stood there conceitedly flattering yourself that you were Number One, would it not be wrong?"

"Yes," he whispered, and his mouth quivered.

"You are still attached to me, Ovind?"

"Yes." He looked up for the first time.

"Then I must tell you it was I who had your number placed low down; because I care for you so much, Ovind."

The old schoolmaster looked at him, blinked a few times, and the tears ran quickly down.

"You have not anything against me for it?"

"No." He looked up brightly though his voice trembled.

"My dear child, I will watch over you as long as I live."

He waited for him till he had gathered his books together, and then said he would go home with him. They went slowly along: at first Ovind was silent, battling with himself, but by degrees he overcame. He was convinced that that which had come to pa.s.s was the best that could have happened, and, before he reached home, this belief was so strong, that he thanked G.o.d, and told the schoolmaster so.

"Yes, now we shall hope to attain to something in life," said the schoolmaster, "better than running after blind men and numbers. What do you say to the Training School?"

"Yes, I should like to go there."

"You mean the Agricultural School?"

"Yes."

"That is certainly the best; it gives other prospects than those of a schoolmaster."

"But how can I get there? I do so wish it, but I have no means."

"Be industrious and good, and the means will be found."

Ovind was quite overwhelmed with grat.i.tude. He felt the kindling in the eye, the lightheartedness, the endless fire of love, that comes when we experience the unexpected kindness of our fellow-men. The whole future presents itself for a moment, with that sort of feeling one has when walking in fresh mountain air, of being borne along rather than of walking.

When they came home, both the parents were in the sitting-room, quietly waiting there, though it was the busy time of the day. The schoolmaster entered first; Ovind after; both were smiling.

"Now?" said the father, laying aside a prayer-book, where he had just been reading a catechumen's prayer.

The mother was standing by the fire-place; she smiled, but did not say anything; her hands trembled, and she evidently expected good news though she did not wish to betray herself.

"I thought I must just come to give you the good news, that he has answered every question correctly, and that the pastor said, after Ovind was gone, that he had not examined a more promising candidate.

"Oh no!" said the mother, and was much moved.

"Well done!" said the father, and turned restlessly round.

After a long silence, the mother asked in a low voice, "What number is he?"

"Number 9 or 10," said the schoolmaster quietly.

The mother looked at the father, who looked first at her and then at Ovind,--"A peasant lad cannot expect more," said he.

Ovind looked at him in return; it was as if something would stick in his throat, but he forced it back by quickly thinking of one cheering thing after another.

"Now I must leave," said the schoolmaster, nodded, and turned to go.

As usual both parents followed him out; then the schoolmaster taking a quid, said smiling, "He will be Number One after all, but it is better not to tell him till the day comes."

"No, no," said the father, and nodded. "No, no," said the mother, and nodded too; then taking the schoolmaster's hand,--"Thank you for all you have done," said she. "Yes, thank you," said the father, and the schoolmaster went, but they stood long and looked after him.

CHAP. VII.

A VOICE FROM THE RIDGE.

The schoolmaster had judged well when he asked the pastor to prove whether Ovind could bear to stand Number One. In the three weeks intervening between this time and the confirmation he was with the lad every day. It is one thing for a pure young heart to yield to an impression, and another to hold fast the good qualities he possesses.

Many dark hours came to the lad before he learnt to build his future on better things than vanity and pride. When sitting at his work he would suddenly leave it, saying hopelessly,--"What is the use? What do I gain?" But then a minute after, he would remember the kind words and goodness of the schoolmaster, and so each time he lost sight of his higher duties, he was enabled, by these human means, to bring them into view again.

At the little farm they were preparing at the same time, for his examination, and for his journey to the Agricultural School,--as the day after the confirmation he was to set off. The tailor and the shoemaker sat at work in the loft, the mother was baking in the kitchen, and the father was busy with a trunk. They were querying as to how much it would cost them in two years, and whether he could come home the first Christmas, perhaps he could not even come the second, and how hard it would be to be so long separated. They spoke also of the love he should bear to his parents, when they strove so hard to put their child forward. Ovind sat as one, who in his first trial at sea, had upset the boat, and been picked up by kindly sailors.

Such a feeling brings humility, and with it many other things. As the great day drew near, he felt himself to be fully prepared for it, and looked hopefully to the future. Every time the image of Marit presented itself to his mind, he strove carefully to put it aside, though it always gave him pain to do it. By practice in it he sought to strengthen himself, but instead he felt only a deeper pain. Therefore he felt weary the last evening, when, after a long self-proving, he prayed to G.o.d that in this matter He would not try him.

The schoolmaster came in in the evening. They all sat together, after having prepared themselves as it is customary to do, the evening before taking the Sacrament. The mother was much moved, and the father was unusually silent; separation lay behind the festival of the morning, and it was uncertain when they could all meet again. The schoolmaster took the Psalm-book, they had a little service and sang, and then he prayed from the heart as words came to him.

These four sat there until late in the evening; they gradually grew silent, each occupied with his own thoughts; then they separated with best wishes for the coming day, and the influence it would have.

Ovind thought when he went to rest that night that he had never been so happy before, and he gave his own special interpretation to it; never before, thought he, have I laid down so desirous of fulfilling G.o.d's will and so trustful in it. Marit's face soon presented itself again, and the last he remembered was, that he lay and proved himself:--not quite happy, not quite;--and that he replied:--yes, quite;--but again:--not quite;--yes, quite;--no; not quite.

When he awoke, he at once remembered what day it was; he prayed, and felt refreshed, as one does in a morning. He rose in good time and carefully tried on his new clothes, for he had never had such fine ones before. There was a round jacket especially that seemed strange to him; it was made of fine cloth, and he felt it again and again before he got used to it. When he had put his collar on, and for the fourth time tried on the jacket, he got hold of a little looking-gla.s.s, and, catching sight of the beautiful hair encircling his own self-satisfied face, it suddenly struck him that this again was vanity. Yes; but people may surely be well-dressed and clean, he argued, as he turned away from the gla.s.s as though it were sin to look in it. Well, but not to think so much of themselves for it. No, certainly, but the Lord must like that one should care to be tidy. That may be, but would He not like better that you should look well without thinking so much about it. Yes, but it's only because everything is so new. Well then, by-and-bye you will forget it. Then he began in the same way to prove himself first upon one point and then upon another, he felt so afraid lest any sin should blot that day.

When he came down his parents were all ready and waiting breakfast for him. He went up to them and thanked them for his new clothes; they wished him the customary, "Health to wear them and strength to tear them;" then they seated themselves at the table, said grace, and began the meal. When they had finished, the mother cleared the table and brought in the lunch basket for the journey to church. The father put on his jacket, and the mother her shawl, they took the Psalm-books, locked up the house and set off. On reaching the main road they met with a great many going to church, some driving and some on foot, a few of the candidates for confirmation among them, and now and then white-haired grand-parents, who tried to get to church just this once again.

It was an Autumn day without sunshine as, if the weather were about to break. The clouds, met and parted again; great ma.s.ses broke into small patches, chasing each other far away and bearing with them orders for rain; down on the earth it was still quiet, the leaves hung dead and motionless, the air was a little oppressive; the people carried cloaks but did not require to use them. A large concourse of people had gathered round the solitary church; but the confirmation candidates all went straight in, to be placed before the service began. Then the schoolmaster in his blue dress coat and knickerbockers, high boots, stiff neck-cloth, and pipe sticking out of his pocket, walked about, nodding and smiling, patting one on the shoulder, and telling another to answer clearly and distinctly, until he reached the lower end where Ovind stood talking to his friend Hans, and answering all his questions about the journey. "Good morning, Ovind, you look very well to-day." He took hold of him by the coat saying confidentially, "I think a great deal of you; I have been talking to the pastor, and you are to have your right place as Number One; go up and take it and answer well."

Ovind looked up astonished at him; the schoolmaster nodded; the lad went a few steps forward, then stopped, then a few more steps, then stopped again; yes, it's true--he has spoken to the pastor for me,--and the lad went straight on.

"You are Number One after all," whispered one.

"Yes," said Ovind in a low tone, but scarcely knew yet whether he dare say it.

The placing being accomplished, and the pastor having come, the bell rung and the people streamed into the church. Ovind looked up and saw Marit Heidegaard standing straight opposite him. She also saw him, but they both of them felt so awed by the sacredness of the place that they dared not greet each other. He saw only that she was bright and beautiful, and that she wore nothing on her head. Ovind, who for half-a-year had had so many pleasant dreams of standing opposite to her, now that it was really come to pa.s.s, forgot both the place and her.

When all was over, his relations and friends came to offer their congratulations; then his companions having heard that he was to travel next day came to say good-bye; and many of the younger ones, whom he had driven in the sledges, and whom he had a.s.sisted at school, cried a little at the thought of his departure. At last Ovind and his parents left for home accompanied by the schoolmaster. On the way there were several more came to offer him their good wishes and to take leave; otherwise they did not speak much till they sat again in the quiet room at home.

The schoolmaster tried to help them to keep their courage up, but now that it was come to the point, they all three, never before having been parted for a single day, dreaded the separation for two whole years, but none of them wished to shew their feelings. As the time pa.s.sed on Ovind grew worse and worse, and at last he went out of doors to quiet himself.