The Great Hunger Part 35

What life and cheer it brings with it!

"Mother--here's the sun," cries Louise joyfully from the doorway.

"Yes, child, I see it."

But Louise has only looked in for a moment to beg some cake for Lorentz and herself, and be off again on her ski to the hill-slopes. "Thank you, mother--you're a darling!" And with a slice in each hand she dashes out, glowing with health and the cold air.

If only Peer could glow with health again! But though one day they might persuade themselves that now--now at last he had turned the corner--the next he would be lying tossing about in misery, and it all seemed more hopeless than ever. He had taken to the doctors' medicines again--a.r.s.enic and iron and so forth--and the quiet and fresh air they had prescribed were here in plenty; would nothing do him any good? There were not so many months of their year left now.

And then? Another winter here? And living on charity--ah me! Merle shook her head and sighed.

The time had come, too, when Louise should go to school.

"Send the children over to me--all three of them, if you like," wrote Aunt Marit from Bruseth. No, thanks; Merle knew what that meant. Aunt Marit wanted to keep them for good.

Lose her children--give away her children to others? Was the day to come when that burden, too, would be laid upon them?

But schooling they must have; they must learn enough at least to fit them to make a living when they grew up. And if their own parents could not afford them schooling, why--why then perhaps they had no right to keep them?

Merle sewed and sewed on, lifting her head now and again, so that the sunlight fell on her face.

How the snow shone--like purple under the red flood of sunlight. After all, their troubles seemed a little easier to bear to-day. It was as if something frozen in her heart were beginning to thaw.

Louise was getting on well with her violin. Perhaps one day the child might go out into the world, and win the triumphs that her mother had dreamed of in vain.

There was a sound of hurried steps in the pa.s.sage, and she started and sat in suspense. Would he come in raging, or in despair, or had the pains in his head come back? The door opened.

"Merle! I have it now. By all the G.o.ds, little woman, something's happened at last!"

Merle half rose from her seat, but sank back again, gazing at his face.

"I've got it this time, Merle," he said again. "And how on earth I never hit on it before--when it's as simple as sh.e.l.ling peas!"

He was stalking about the room now, with his hands in his pockets, whistling.

"But what is it, Peer?"

"Why, you see, I was standing there chopping wood. And all the time swarms of mowing machines--nine million of them--were going in my head, all with the gra.s.s sticking fast to the shears and clogging them up. I was in a cold sweat--I felt myself going straight to h.e.l.l--and then, in a flash--a flash of steel--it came to me. It means salvation for us, Merle, salvation."

"Oh, do talk so that I can understand a little of what you're saying."

"Why, don't you see--all that's wanted is a small movable steel brush above the shears, to flick away the gra.s.s and keep them clear. Hang it all, a child could see it. By Jove, little woman, it'll soon be changed times with us now."

Merle laid her work down in her lap and let her hands fall. If this were true!

"I'll have the machine up here, Merle. Making the brushes and fixing them on will be no trouble at all--I can do it in a day in the smithy here."

"What--you had better try! You're just beginning to get a little better, and you want to spoil it all again!"

"I shall never get well, Merle, as long as I have that infernal machine in my head balancing between world-success and fiasco. It presses on my brain like a leaden weight, I shall never have a decent night's sleep till I get rid of it. Oh, my great G.o.d--if times were to change some day--even for us! Well! Do you think I wouldn't get well when that day came!"

This time she let him take her in his arms. But when he had gone, she sat still, watching the sun sink behind the snow-ranges, till her eyes grew dim and her breath came heavily.

A week later, when the sun was flaming on the white roofs, the grey pony dragged a huge packing-case up to Raastad. And the same day a noise of hammer and file at work was heard in the smithy.

What do a few sleepless nights matter now? And they are sleepless not so much from anxiety--for this time things go well--as because of dreams.

And both of them dream. They have bought back Loreng, and they wander about through the great light rooms once more, and all is peace and happiness. All the evil days before are as a nightmare that is past.

Once more they will be young, go out on ski together, and dine together after, and drink champagne, and look at each other with love in their eyes. Once more--and many times again.

"Good-night, Merle."

"Good-night, Peer, and sleep well."

Day after day the hammering went on in the smithy.

A few years back he could have finished the whole business in a couple of days. But now, half an hour's work was enough to tire him out. It is exhausting work to concentrate your thoughts upon a single point, when your brain has long been used to play idly with stray fancies as they came. He found, too, that there were defects to be put right in the parts he thought were complete before, and he had no a.s.sistants now, no foundry to get castings from, he must forge out each piece with his own hands, and with sorry tools.

What did it matter?

He began to discipline his brain, denying himself every superfluous thought. He drew dark curtains across every window in his consciousness, save one--the machine. After half an hour's work he would go back to bed and rest--just close his eyes, and rest. This too was discipline. Again he flooded all his mind with darkness, darkness, to save his strength for the half-hour of work next day.

Was Merle fearful and anxious? At all events she said no word about the work that so absorbed him. He was excited enough as it was. And now when he was irritable and angry with the children, she did not even look at him reproachfully. They must bear it, both she and the children--it would soon be all over now.

In the clear moonlight nights, when the children were in bed, the two would sometimes be seen wandering about together. They went with their arms about each other's waists, talking loudly, laughing a great deal, and sometimes singing. People going by on the road would hear the laughter and singing, and think to themselves: It's either someone that's been drinking, or else that couple from the Court-house.

The spring drew on and the days grew lighter.

But at the Hamar Agricultural Exhibition, where the machine was tried, an American compet.i.tor was found to be just a little better. Everyone thought it a queer business; for even if the idea hadn't been directly stolen from Peer, there could be no doubt that his machine had suggested it. The principles adopted were the same in both cases, but in the American machine there was just enough improvement in carrying them out to make it doubtful whether it would be any use going to law over the patent rights. And besides--it's no light matter for a man with no money at his back to go to law with a rich American firm.

In the mighty race, with compet.i.tors the wide world over, to produce the best machine, Peer had been on the very point of winning. Another man had climbed upon his chariot, and then, at the last moment, jumped a few feet ahead, and had thereby won the prize.

So that the achievement in itself be good, the world does not inquire too curiously whether it was honestly achieved.

And there is no use starting a joint-stock company to exploit a new machine when there is a better machine in the field.

The steel had seized on Peer, and used him as a springboard. But the reward was destined for another.

Chapter V

Herr Uthoug Junior, Agent for English tweeds, stepped out of the train one warm day in July, and stood for a moment on the station platform looking about him. Magnificent scenery, certainly. And this beautiful valley was where his sister had been living for more than a year.

Splendid air--and yet somehow it didn't seem to have done his brother-in-law much good. Well, well! And the neatly dressed young gentleman set off on foot towards Raastad, asking his way from time to time. He wanted to take them by surprise. There had been a family council at Ringeby, and they had agreed that some definite arrangement must be made for the future of the sister and her husband, with whom things had gone so hopelessly wrong.

As he turned up the by-road that led to the farm, he was aware of a man in his shirt-sleeves, wheeling a barrow full of stones. What? He thought--could he be mistaken? No--sure enough it was Peer Holm--Peer Holm, loading up stones and wheeling them down the hill as zealously as if he were paid for every step.

The Agent was not the man for lamentations or condolences. "Hullo!" he cried. "Hard at it, aren't you? You've taken to farming, I see."