Jerusalem. Selma Lagerlöf

into the field, stepped up to Ingmar, and asked him if he thought the folks living over there wanted any painting done.

      Ingmar Ingmarsson was startled, and stood staring at the man as though he were a ghost.

      "Lord, as I live, it's a painter!" he remarked to himself. "And to think of his coming just now!" He was so dumbfounded that he could not answer the man. He distinctly recalled that every time any one had said to his father: "You ought to have that big, ugly house of yours painted, Father Ingmar," the old man had always replied that he would have it done the year Ingmar married.

      The painter put the question a second time, and a third, but Ingmar stood there, dazed, as if he had not understood him.

      "Are they ready at last with their answer?" he wondered. "Is this a message from father to say that he wishes me to marry this year?"

      He was so overwhelmed by the thought that he hired the man on the spot. Then he went on with his plowing, deeply moved and almost happy.

      "You'll see it won't be so very hard to do this now that you know for certain it is father's wish," he said.

II

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      A fortnight later Ingmar Ingmarsson stood polishing some harness. He seemed to be in a bad humour, and found the work rather irksome. "Were I in our Lord's place," he thought, then put in another rub or two and beg again: "Were I in our Lord's place, I'd see to it that a thing was done the instant your mind was made up. I shouldn't allow folks such a long time to think it over, and ponder all the obstacles. I shouldn't give them time to polish harness and paint wagons; I'd take them straight from the plow."

      He caught the sound of wagon wheels from the road, and looked out. He knew at once whose rig it was. "The senator from Bergskog is coming!" he shouted into the kitchen, where his mother was at work. Instantly fresh wood was laid on the fire and the coffee mill was set going.

      The senator drove into the yard, where he pulled up without alighting. "No, I'm not going into the house," he said, "I only want a word or two with you, Ingmar. I'm rather pressed for time as I am due at the parish meeting."

      "Mother is just making some fresh coffee," said Ingmar.

      "Thank you, but I must not be late."

      "It's a good while now since you were here, Senator," said Ingmar pressingly.

      Then Ingmar's mother appeared in the doorway, and protested:

      "Surely you're not thinking of going without first coming in for a drop of coffee?"

      Ingmar unbuttoned the carriage apron, and the senator began to move. "Seeing it's Mother Martha herself that commands me I suppose I shall have to obey," he said.

      The senator was a tall man of striking appearance, with a certain ease of manner. He was of a totally different stamp from Ingmar or his mother, who were very plain looking, with sleepy faces and clumsy bodies. But all the same, the senator had a profound respect for the old family of Ingmars, and would gladly have sacrificed his own active exterior to be like Ingmar, and to become one of the Ingmassons. He had always taken Ingmar's part against his own daughter, so felt rather light of heart at being so well received.

      In a while, when Mother Martha had brought the coffee, he began to state his errand.

      "I thought," he said, and cleared his throat. "I thought you had best be told what we intend to do with Brita." The cup which Mother Martha held in her hand shook a little, and the teaspoon rattled in the saucer. Then there was a painful silence. "We have been thinking that the best thing we could do would be to send her to America." He made another pause, only to be met by the same ominous silence. He sighed at the thought of these unresponsive people. "Her ticket has already been purchased."

      "She will come home first, of course," said Ingmar.

      "No; what would she be doing there?"

      Again Ingmar was silent. He sat with his eyes nearly closed, as if he were half asleep.

      Then Mother Martha took a turn at asking questions. "She'll be needing clothes, won't she?"

      "All that has been attended to; there is a trunk, ready packed, at

       Lövberg's place, where we always stop when we come to town."

      "Her mother will be there to meet her, I suppose?"

      "Well, no. She would like to, but I think it best that they be spared a meeting."

      "Maybe so."

      "The ticket and some money are waiting for her at Lövberg's, so that she will have everything she needs. I felt that Ingmar ought to know of it, so he won't have this burden on his mind any longer," said the senator.

      Then Mother Martha kept still, too. Her headkerchief had slipped back, and she sat gazing down at her apron.

      "Ingmar should be looking about for a new wife."

      Both mother and son persistently held their peace.

      "Mother Martha needs a helper in this big household. Ingmar should see to it that she has some comfort in her old age." The senator paused a moment, wondering if they could have heard what he said. "My wife and I wanted to make everything right again," he declared finally.

      In the meantime, a sense of great relief had come to Ingmar. Brita was going to America, and he would not have to marry her. After all a murderess was not to become the mistress of the old Ingmar home. He had kept still, thinking it was not the thing to show at once how pleased he was, but now he began to feel that it would be only right and proper for him to say something.

      The senator quietly bided his time. He knew that he had to give these old-fashioned people time to consider. Presently Ingmar's mother said:

      "Brita has paid her penalty; now it's our turn." By this the old woman meant that if the senator wanted any help from the Ingmarssons, in return for his having smoothed the way for them, they would not withhold it. But Ingmar interpreted her utterance differently. He gave a start, as if suddenly awakened from sleep. "What would father say of this?" he wondered. "If I were to lay the whole matter before him, what would he be likely to say? 'You must not think that you can make a mockery of God's judgment,' he would say. 'And don't imagine that He will let it go unpunished if you allow Brita to shoulder all the blame. If her father wants to cast her off just to get into your good graces, so that he can borrow money from you, you must nevertheless follow God's leading, little Ingmar Ingmarsson.'

      "I verily believe the old man is keeping close watch of me in this matter," he thought. "He must have sent Brita's father here to show me how mean it is to try to shift everything on to her, poor girl! I guess he must have noticed that I haven't had any great desire to take that journey these last few days."

      Ingmar got up, poured some brandy into his coffee, and raised the cup.

      "Here's a thank you to the senator for coming here to-day," he said, and clinked cups with him.

III

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      Ingmar had been busy all the morning, working around the birches down by the gate. First he had put up a scaffolding, then he had bent the tops of the trees toward each other so that they formed an arch.

      "What's all that for?" asked Mother Martha.

      "Oh, it suits my fancy to have them grow that way for a change," said Ingmar.

      Along came the noon hour, and the men folks stopped their work; after the midday meal the farm hands went out into the yard and lay down in the grass to sleep. Ingmar Ingmarsson slept, too, but he was lying in a broad bed in the chamber off the living-room. The only person not asleep was