Ovind: A Story Of Country Life In Norway Part 15

"I couldn't deny you that pleasure."

"While the little birds sang,"--

"And all were asleep;"

"And the bells they rang,"--

"O'er the green wood's steep."

Here they both saw Marit's grandfather come limping out on the farm, and go to the bell string to ring the people up. The people came slowly down from the out-houses, drawled sleepily to the horses and rakes, scattered themselves in various parts of the field, and soon all was life and work again. The grandfather only went out of the one house and into the other, and at last up on to the top of the hay loft and looked all round. A little lad came bounding up to him, apparently he had called him. The boy went down in the direction of Pladsen, and the grandfather, in the meantime, went round about the farm, often looking up to the mountain, but little suspecting that the dark spot on the "great stone" was Marit and Ovind. But again Marit's dog brought misfortune, for seeing a strange horse drive into Heidegaard, he seemed to think it part of his business to bark at the top of his voice. They tried to quiet him, but he had got roused, and would not give over; the grandfather stood below and stared straight up. But matters grew still worse, for the sheep dogs hearing the voice of a stranger, ran up, and seeing a great wolf-like champion, these straight-haired Finnish dogs all united against him, and so frightened Marit, that she ran away without even saying good-bye; while Ovind, in the midst of the battle, kicked and struck, but only succeeded in driving the dogs further away, for they soon found themselves another battle field; he after them again, and so on, till at last they were close to the edge of the beck; here Ovind rushed on them again, and got them all into the water, just where it was really deep; and they crawled out, looking quite ashamed, and going each his own way; so ended the fray.

Ovind went straight over till he reached the high road, but Marit met her grandfather a little above the farm, and the dog was to blame for this.

"Where have you been?"

"Into the wood."

"What have you been doing there?"

"Gathering berries."

"That is not true."

"No, it isn't."

"What did you do then?"

"I was talking to some one."

"Was it the peasant lad?"

"Yes."

"Listen now, Marit, you are going away tomorrow."

"No."

"Well, Marit, I will only say one single thing, you SHALL go."

"You can't lift me into the carriage."

"No? Can't I?"

"No, because you won't do it."

"Won't I? Listen, Marit, only for pleasure you see, only for pleasure, I will give that raggam.u.f.fin a real good thras.h.i.+ng."

"No, you daren't do that."

"Don't dare? Do you say I dare not? Who could do anything to me, who?"

"The schoolmaster."

"The schoo--school--schoolmaster? Do you think he cares for him?"

"Yes, it was he who sent him to the Agricultural School."

"The schoolmaster?"

"The schoolmaster!"

"Listen now Marit, I will not have any more of this nonsense, you must leave, you give me only sorrow and trouble, it was just the same with your mother, only sorrow and trouble. I am an old man, and I wish to see you well provided for, and I will not be talked about as a fool in this matter; it is your own good that I have at heart, you may be sure of that, Marit. I may soon be gone, and then you would stand there alone; what would have become of your mother if it had not been for me?

Come now, Marit, be a good girl, and listen to what I say, I seek only your own good."

"No, you don't."

"How? What do I seek then?"

"To have your own way without any regard to mine."

"You have a will of your own, have you, you young sea-bird? You think you know your own good, do you, little fool? I shall let you taste the birch rod, so tall and big you are. Now listen Marit, let me speak a little kindly with you. You are not so bad at the bottom, but you are deluded. You must attend to what I say, I am old and experienced. I am not so well off as people think, a poor cageless bird could soon fly away with the little I have; your father dived hard into it. No, let us take care of ourselves in this world, it is not better worth. It is all very well for the schoolmaster to talk, for he has money himself, and the priest too, they can afford to preach; but with us, who must work for our living, it is quite a different thing. I am old, and have gone through much; I can tell you, love is nice enough to talk about, and may do very well for the clergy and such, but it won't do for the peasantry, they must look at it in another light. First subsistence you see, then religion, then a little schooling, then a little love if it so falls in; but I tell you it is no use to begin with love and end with victuals. What have you to say now Marit?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yes, but I do."

"What then?"

"Must I say?"

"Yes, of course you must."

"I am bound up in this love."

He stood a moment amazed, then, remembering the many similar conversations leading only to the same end, he shook his head, turned his back and went.

He vented his wrath on the men, abused the girls, beat the great dog, and nearly frightened the life out of a little hen that had strayed in the field, but to Marit he said nothing.

That evening Marit was so happy when she went up stairs to bed, that she opened her window, looked out, and sang. She had got a fine little book from Ovind, and in it was a fine little love song,--this she sang:--

Do you love me true, E'en as I love you, All the livelong happy day;-- The summer quickly flies, The leaf and blossom dies, But to come again we say.

What you said before, Comes to me o'er and o'er, Like a small bird in a tree,-- Flutters his tiny wings, Nestles himself and sings, Merrily chirping, happy and free.

Litli, litli, lu, Do you hear me, you, Laddie from the birch hedge under?