Lagerlöf Selma
The Girl from the Marsh Croft
Gudmund went into the woods and was soon out of sight. He did not think of seeking Helga; he was only thinking of being alone, so that he wouldn't have to control himself. He felt an unreasonable anger toward everything, kicked at stones that lay in his path, and paused sometimes to break off a big branch only because a leaf had brushed his cheek.
He followed the path to Big Marsh, but walked past the croft and up the hill which lay above it. He had wandered off the path, and in order to reach the hill-top he must cross a broad ridge of sharp, jagged rocks. It was a hazardous tramp over the sharp rock edges. He might have broken both arms and legs had he made a misstep. He understood this perfectly, but went on as if it amused him to run into danger. "If I were to fall and hurt myself, no one can find me up here," thought he. "What of it? I may as well die here as to sit for years within prison walls."
All went well, however, and a few moments later he was up on High Peak. Once a forest fire had swept the mountain. The highest point was still bare, and from there one had a seven-mile outlook. He saw valleys and lakes, dark forest tracts and flourishing towns, churches and manors, little woodland crofts and large villages. Far in the distance lay the city, enveloped in a white haze from which a pair of gleaming spires peeped out. Public roads wound through the valleys, and a railway train was rushing along the border of the forest. It was a whole kingdom that he saw.
He flung himself upon the ground, all the while keeping his eyes riveted upon the vast outlook. There was something grand and majestic about the landscape before him, which made him feel himself and his sorrows small and insignificant.
He remembered how, when a child, he had read that the tempter led Jesus up to a high mountain and showed him all the world's glories, and he always fancied that they had stood up here on Great Peak, and he repeated the old words: "All these things will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me."
All of a sudden he was thinking that a similar temptation had come to him these last days. Certainly the tempter had not borne him to a high mountain and shown him all the glories and powers of this world! "Only be silent about the evil which you think you have done," said he, "and I will give you all these things."
As Gudmund thought on this, a grain of satisfaction came to him. "I have answered no," he said, and suddenly he understood what it had meant for him. If he had kept silent, would he not have been compelled to worship the tempter all his life? He would have been a timid and faint-hearted man; simply a slave to his possessions. The fear of discovery would always have weighed upon him. Nevermore would he have felt himself a free man.
A great peace came over Gudmund. He was happy in the consciousness that he had done right. When he thought back to the past days, he felt that he had groped his way out of a great darkness. It was wonderful that he had come out right finally. He asked himself how he had ever happened to go astray. "It was because they were so kind to me at home," he thought, "and the best help was that Helga came and wished me happiness."
He lay up there on the mountain a little longer, but presently he felt that he must go home to his father and mother and tell them that he was at peace with himself. When he rose to go, he saw Helga sitting on a ledge a little farther down the mountain.
Where she sat, she had not the big, broad outlook which he enjoyed; only a little glint of the valley was visible to her. This was in the direction where Närlunda lay, and possibly she could see a portion of the farm. When Gudmund discovered her, he felt that his heart, which all the day before had labored heavily and anxiously, began to beat lightly and merrily; at the same time such a thrill of joy ran through him that he stood still and marvelled at himself. "What has come over me? What is this?" he wondered, as the blood surged through his body and happiness gripped him with a force that was almost painful. At last he said to himself in a surprised tone: "Why, it is she that I'm fond of! Think, that I did not know it until now!"
It took hold of him with the strength of a loosened torrent. He had been bound the whole time he knew her. All that had drawn him to her he had held back. Now, at last, he was freed from the thought of marrying some one else – free to love her.
"Helga!" he cried, rushing down the steep to her. She turned round with a terrified shriek. "Don't be frightened! It is only I."
"But are you not at church being married?"
"No, indeed! There will be no wedding to-day. She doesn't want me – she – Hildur."
Helga rose. She placed her hand on her heart and closed her eyes. At that moment she must have thought it was not Gudmund who had come. It must be that her eyes and ears were bewitched in the forest. Yet it was sweet and dear of him to come, if only in a vision! She closed her eyes and stood motionless to keep this vision a few seconds longer.
Gudmund was wild and dizzy from the great love that had flamed up in him. As soon as he came down to Helga, he threw his arms around her and kissed her, and she let it happen, for she was absolutely stupefied with surprise. It was too wonderful to believe that he, who should now be standing in church beside his bride, actually could have come here to the forest. This phantom or ghost of him that had come to her may as well kiss her.
But while Gudmund was kissing Helga, she awoke and pushed him from her. She began to shower him with questions. Was it really he? What was he doing in the forest? Had any misfortune happened to him? Why was the wedding postponed? Was Hildur ill? Did the clergyman have a stroke in church?
Gudmund had not wished to talk to her of anything in the world save his love, but she forced him to tell her what had occurred. While he was speaking she sat still and listened with rapt attention.
She did not interrupt him until he mentioned the broken blade. Then she leaped up suddenly and asked if it was his clasp-knife, the one he had when she served with them.
"Yes, it was just that one," said he.
"How many blades were broken off?" she asked.
"Only one," he answered.
Then Helga's head began working. She sat with knit brows trying to recall something. Wait! Why, certainly she remembered distinctly that she had borrowed the knife from him to shave wood with the day before she left. She had broken it then, but she had never told him of it. He had avoided her, and at that time he had not wished to hold any converse with her. And of course the knife had been in his pocket ever since and he hadn't noticed that it was broken.
She raised her head and was about to tell him of this, but he went on talking of his visit that morning to the house where the wedding was to have been celebrated, and she wanted to let him finish. When she heard how he had parted from Hildur, she thought it such a terrible misfortune that she began upbraiding him. "This is your own fault," said she. "You and your father came and frightened the life out of her with the shocking news. She would not have answered thus had she been mistress of herself. I want to say to you that I believe she regrets it at this very moment."
"Let her regret it as much as she likes, for all of me!" said Gudmund. "I know now that she is the sort who thinks only of herself. I am glad I'm rid of her!"
Helga pressed her lips, as if to keep the great secret from escaping. There was much for her to think about. It was more than a question of clearing Gudmund of the murder; the wretched affair had also dragged with it enmity between Gudmund and his sweetheart. Perhaps she might try to adjust this matter with the help of what she knew.
Again she sat silent and pondered until Gudmund began telling that he had transferred his affections to her.
But to her this seemed to be the greatest misfortune he had met with that day. It was bad that he was about to miss the advantageous marriage, but still worse were he to woo a girl like herself. "No, such things you must not say to me," she said, rising abruptly.
"Why shouldn't I say this to you?" asked Gudmund, turning pale. "Perhaps it is with you as with Hildur – you are afraid of me?"
"No, that's not the reason."
She wanted to explain how he was seeking his own ruin, but he was not listening to her. "I have heard said that there were women-folk in olden times who stood side by side with men when they were in trouble; but that kind one does not encounter nowadays."
A tremor passed through Helga. She could have thrown her arms around his neck, but remained perfectly still. To-day it was she who must be sensible.
"True, I should not have asked you to become my wife on the day that I must go to prison. You see, if I only knew that you would wait for me until I'm free again, I should go through all the hardship with courage. Every one will now regard me as a criminal, as one who drinks and murders. If only there were some one who could think of me with affection! – this would sustain me more than anything else."
"You know, surely, that I shall never think anything but good of you, Gudmund."
Helga was so still! Gudmund's entreaties were becoming almost too much for her. She didn't know how she should escape him. He apprehended nothing of this, but began thinking he had been mistaken. She could not feel toward him as he did toward her. He came very close and looked at her, as though he wanted to look through her. "Are you not sitting on this particular ledge of the mountain that you may look down to Närlunda?"
"Yes."
"Don't you long night and day to be there?"
"Yes, but I'm not longing for any person."
"And you don't care for me?"
"Yes, but I don't want to marry you."
"Whom do you care for, then?"
Helga was silent.
"Is it Per Mårtensson?"
"I have already told you that I liked him," she said, exhausted by the strain of it all.
Gudmund stood for a moment, with tense features, and looked at her. "Farewell, then! Now we must go our separate ways, you and I," said he. With that he made a long jump from this ledge of the mountain down to the next landing and disappeared among the trees.
VI
Gudmund was hardly out of sight when Helga rushed down the mountain in another direction. She ran past the marsh without stopping and hurried over the wooded hills as fast as she could and down the road. She stopped at the first farmhouse she came to and asked for the loan of a horse and car to drive to Älvåkra. She said that it was a matter of life and death and promised to pay for the help. The church folk had already returned to their homes and were talking of the adjourned wedding. They were all very much excited and very solicitous and were eager to help Helga, since she appeared to have an important errand to the home of the bride.
At Älvåkra Hildur Ericsdotter sat in a little room on the upper floor where she had dressed as a bride. Her mother and several other peasant women were with her. Hildur did not weep; she was unusually quiet, and so pale that she looked as though she might be ill at any moment. The women talked all the while of Gudmund. All blamed him and seemed to regard it as a fortunate thing that she was rid of him. Some thought that Gudmund had shown very little consideration for his parents-in-law in not letting them know on Palm Sunday how matters stood with him. Others, again, said that one who had had such happiness awaiting him should have known how to take better care of himself. A few congratulated Hildur because she had escaped marrying a man who could drink himself so full that he did not know what he was doing.
Amid this, Hildur was losing her patience and rose to go out. As soon as she was outside the door, her best friend, a young peasant girl, came and whispered something to her. "There is some one below who wants to speak with you."
"Is it Gudmund?" asked Hildur, and a spark of life came into her eyes.
"No, but it may be a messenger from him. She wouldn't divulge the nature of her errand to any one but yourself, she declared."
Hildur had been sitting thinking all day that some one must come who could put an end to her misery. She couldn't comprehend that such a dreadful misfortune should come to her. She felt that something ought to happen that she might again don her crown and wreath, so they could proceed with the wedding. When she heard now of a messenger from Gudmund, she was interested and immediately went out to the kitchen hall and looked for her.
Hildur probably wondered why Gudmund had sent Helga to her, but she thought that perhaps he couldn't find any other messenger on a holiday, and greeted her pleasantly. She motioned to Helga to come with her into the dairy across the yard. "I know no other place where we can be alone," she said. "The house is still full of guests."
As soon as they were inside, Helga went close up to Hildur and looked her square in the face. "Before I say anything more, I must know if you love Gudmund."
Hildur winced. It was painful for her to be obliged to exchange a single word with Helga, and she had no desire to make a confidant of her. But now it was a case of necessity, and she forced herself to answer, "Why else do you suppose I wished to marry him?"
"I mean, do you still love him?"
Hildur was like stone, but she could not lie under the other woman's searching glance. "Perhaps I have never loved him so much as to-day," she said, but she said this so feebly that one might think it hurt her to speak out.
"Then come with me at once!" said Helga. "I have a wagon down the road. Go in after a cloak or something to wrap around you; then we'll drive to Närlunda."
"What good would it do for me to go there?" asked Hildur.
"You must go there and say you want to be Gudmund's, no matter what he may have done, and that you will wait faithfully for him while he is in prison."
"Why should I say this?"
"So all will be well between you."
"But that is impossible. I don't want to marry any one who has been in prison!"
Helga staggered back, as though she had bumped against a wall, but she quickly regained her courage. She could understand that one who was rich and powerful, like Hildur, must think thus. "I should not come and ask you to go to Närlunda did I not know that Gudmund was innocent," said she.
Now it was Hildur who came a step or two towards Helga. "Do you know this for certain, or is it only something which you imagine?"
"It will be better for us to get into the cart immediately; then I can talk on the way."
"No, you must first explain what you mean; I must know what I'm doing."
Helga was in such a fever of excitement that she could hardly stand still; nevertheless she had to make up her mind to tell Hildur how she happened to know that Gudmund was not the murderer.
"Didn't you tell Gudmund of this at once?"
"No, I'm telling it now to Hildur. No one else knows of it."
"And why do you come to me with this?"
"That all may be well between you two. He will soon learn that he has done no wrong; but I want you to go to him as if of your own accord, and make it up."
"Sha'n't I say that I know he is innocent?"
"You must come entirely of your own accord and must never let him know I have spoken to you; otherwise he will never forgive you for what you said to him this morning."
Hildur listened quietly. There was something in this which she had never met with in her life before, and she was striving to make it clear to herself. "Do you know that it was I who wanted you to leave Närlunda?"
"I know, of course, that it was not the folk at Närlunda who wished me away."
"I can't comprehend that you should come to me to-day with the desire to help me."
"Only come along now, Hildur, so all will be well!"
Hildur stared at Helga, trying all the while to reason it out. "Perhaps Gudmund loves you?" she blurted out.
And now Helga's patience was exhausted. "What could I be to him?" she said sharply. "You know, Hildur, that I am only a poor croft girl, and that's not the worst about me!"
The two young women stole unobserved from the homestead and were soon seated in the cart. Helga held the reins, and she did not spare the horse, but drove at full speed. Both girls were silent. Hildur sat gazing at Helga. She marvelled at her and was thinking more of her than of anything else.
As they were nearing the Erlandsson farm, Helga gave the reins to Hildur. "Now you must go alone to the house and talk with Gudmund. I'll follow a little later and tell that about the knife. But you mustn't say a word to Gudmund about my having brought you here."
Gudmund sat in the living-room at Närlunda beside his mother and talked with her. His father was sitting a little way from them, smoking. He looked pleased and said not a word. It was apparent that he thought everything was going now as it should and that it was not necessary for him to interfere.
"I wonder, mother, what you would have said if you had got Helga for a daughter-in-law?" ventured Gudmund.
Mother Ingeborg raised her head and said in a firm voice, "I will with pleasure welcome any daughter-in-law if I only know that she loves you as a wife should love her husband."
This was barely spoken when they saw Hildur Ericsdotter drive into the yard. She came immediately into the cottage and was unlike herself in many respects. She did not step into the room with her usual briskness, but it appeared almost as though she were inclined to pause near the door, like some poor beggarwoman.
However, she came forward finally and shook hands with mother Ingeborg and Erland. Then she turned to Gudmund: "It is with you that I would have a word or two."
Gudmund arose, and they went into the side room. He arranged a chair for Hildur, but she did not seat herself. She blushed with embarrassment, and the words dropped slowly and heavily from her lips. "I was – yes, it was much too hard – that which I said to you this morning."
"We came so abruptly, Hildur," said Gudmund.
She grew still more red and embarrassed. "I should have thought twice. We could – it would of course – "
"It is probably best as it is, Hildur. It is nothing to speak of now, but it was kind of you to come."
She put her hands to her face, drew a breath as deep as a sigh, then raised her head again.
"No!" she said, "I can't do it in this way. I don't want you to think that I'm better than I am. There was some one who came to me and told me that you were not guilty and advised me to hurry over here at once and make everything right again. And I was not to mention that I already knew you were innocent, for then you wouldn't think it so noble of me to come. Now I want to say to you that I wish I had thought of this myself, but I hadn't. But I have longed for you all day and wished that all might be well between us. Whichever way it turns out, I want to say that I am glad you are innocent."
"Who advised you to do this?" asked Gudmund.
"I was not to tell you that."
"I am surprised that any one should know of it. Father has but just returned from the Sheriff. He telegraphed to the city, and an answer has come that the real murderer has already been found."
As Gudmund was relating this, Hildur felt that her legs were beginning to shake, and she sat down quickly in the chair. She was frightened because Gudmund was so calm and pleasant, and she was beginning to perceive that he was wholly out of her power. "I can understand that you can never forget how I behaved to you this forenoon."
"Surely I can forgive you that," he said in the same even tone. "We will never speak of the matter again."
She shivered, dropped her eyes, and sat as though she were expecting something. "It was simply a stroke of good fortune, Hildur," he said, coming forward and grasping her hand, "that it is over between us, for to-day it became clear to me that I love another. I think I have been fond of her for a long time, but I did not know it until to-day."
"Whom do you care for, Gudmund?" came in a colorless voice from Hildur.
"It doesn't matter. I shall not marry her, as she does not care for me, nor can I marry anyone else."
Hildur raised her head. It was not easy to tell what was taking place in her. At this moment she felt that she, the rich farmer's daughter, with all her beauty and all her possessions, was nothing to Gudmund. She was proud and did not wish to part from him without teaching him that she had a value of her own, apart from all the external things. "I want you to tell me, Gudmund, if it is Helga from Big Marsh whom you love."
Gudmund was silent.
"It was she who came to me and taught me what I should do that all might be well between us. She knew you were innocent, but she did not say so to you. She let me know it first."
Gudmund looked her steadily in the eyes. "Do you think this means that she has a great affection for me?"
"You may be sure of it, Gudmund. I can prove it. No one in the world could love you more than she does."
He walked rapidly across the floor and back, then he stopped suddenly before Hildur. "And you – why do you tell me this?"
"Surely I do not wish to stand beneath Helga in magnanimity!"
"Oh, Hildur, Hildur!" he cried, placing his hands on her shoulders and shaking her to give vent to his emotion. "You don't know, oh, you don't know how much I like you at this moment! You don't know how happy you have made me!"
Helga sat by the roadside and waited. With her cheek resting on her hand, she sat and pictured Hildur and Gudmund together and thought how happy they must be now.
While she sat thus, a servant from Närlunda came along. He stopped when he saw her. "I suppose you have heard that affair which concerns Gudmund?"
She had.
"It was not true, fortunately. The real murderer is already in custody."
"I knew it couldn't be true," said Helga.
Thereupon the man went, and Helga sat there alone, as before. So they knew it already down there! It was not necessary for her to go to Närlunda and tell of it.
She felt herself so strangely shut out! Earlier in the day she had been so eager. She had not thought of herself – only that Gudmund and Hildur's marriage should take place. But now it flashed upon her how alone she was. And it was hard not to be something to those of whom one is fond. Gudmund did not need her now, and her own child had been appropriated by her mother, who would hardly allow her to look at it.
She was thinking that she had better rise and go home, but the hills appeared long and difficult to her. She didn't know how she should ever be able to climb them.
A vehicle came along now from the direction of Närlunda. Hildur and Gudmund were seated in the cart. Now they were probably on their way to Älvåkra to tell that they were reconciled. To-morrow the wedding would take place.
When they discovered Helga, they stopped the horse. Gudmund handed the reins to Hildur and jumped down. Hildur nodded to Helga and drove on.
Gudmund remained standing on the road and facing Helga. "I am glad you are sitting here, Helga," he said. "I thought that I would have to go up to Big Marsh to meet you."
He said this abruptly, almost harshly; at the same time he gripped her hand tightly. And she read in his eyes that he knew now where he had her. Now she could no more escape from him.
