Jerusalem (Historical Novel). Selma Lagerlöf

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

       Table of Contents

      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 the old mistress, who sat in the big room, knitting.

      The door to the entrance hall was cautiously opened, and in came an old woman carrying two large baskets on a yoke. After passing the time of day, she sat down on a chair by the door and took the lids off the baskets, one of which was filled with rusks and buns, the other with newly baked loaves of spiced bread. The housewife at once went over to the old woman and began to bargain. Ordinarily she kept a tight fist on the pennies, but she never could resist a temptation to indulge her weakness for sweets to dip in her coffee.

      While selecting her cakes she began to chat with the old woman, who, like most persons that go from place to place and know many people, was a ready talker. "Kaisa, you're a sensible person," said Mother Martha, "and one can rely on you."

      "Yes, indeed," said the other. "If I didn't know enough to keep mum about most of the things I hear, there'd be some fine hair-pulling matches, I'm thinking!"

      "But sometimes you are altogether too close-mouthed, Kaisa."

      The old woman looked up; the inference was quite plain to her.

      "May the Lord forgive me!" she said tearfully, "but I talked to the senator's wife at Bergskog when I should have come straight to you."

      "So you have been talking to the senator's wife!" And the emphasis given to the last two words spoke volumes.

      Ingmar had been startled from his sleep by the opening of the outside door. No one had come in, apparently; still the door stood ajar. He did not know whether it had sprung open or whether some one had opened it. Too sleepy to get up, he settled back in bed. And then he heard talking in the outer room.

      "Now tell me, Kaisa, what makes you think that Brita doesn't care for Ingmar."

      "From the very start folks have been saying that her parents made her take him," returned the old woman, evasively.

      "Speak right out, Kaisa, for when I question you, you don't have to beat about the bush. I guess I'm able to bear anything you may have to tell me."

      "I must say that every time I was at Bergskog Brit always looked as if she'd been crying. Once, when she and I were alone in the kitchen, I said to her: 'It's a fine husband you'll be getting, Brita.' She looked at me