Part 2

From that time on they were not so keen about showing her to company. Now it was the swaddling that was brought forward to be seen and praised. All the glamour and greatness had dropped from her; she was no more now than Anna or Johan.

The year that followed she had many distressing experiences. She had not only to give up living exclusively on a diet of pastry and preserves, but things even went so far that when Fru Lagerlöf served her boiled carrots, or spinach, or pease-pods, no one removed her plate and brought her other fare. She had to eat what was set before her. If Anna received a prettier dress than Selma no one protested. On the contrary, they all thought it only fair, since Anna was the eldest daughter.

Ah, sometimes her heart sank way down into her boots, for she was not altogether certain that Back-Kaisa did not care just as much for the wee one as she did for her.

III

THE DRIVE TO KARLSTAD

BACK-KAISA and her charge were on a journey. They sat perched up on the box of the big close-carriage with Magnus, the coachman, who was so gripped by his responsibility of driving three horses on the dreadful road to Karlstad that not a word could be got out of him.

On the back seat of the carriage sat Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa, with Johan and Anna opposite, their backs to the horses. It was much more fun, of course, to sit on the coach-box and watch the horses than being shut in under the tilt. Johan would have liked to be up there with Magnus; but Fru Lagerlöf had said it was impossible to squeeze Back-Kaisa in on the front seat, and where she rode, Selma must ride. Lieutenant Lagerlöf was also along on the journey, but he rode alone at some distance ahead, in his carriole.

It was a year now since the little girl first lost the use of her legs, and in all that time she had not set foot on the ground. She was now being taken to the West Coast in the hope that the sea air and the baths might possibly effect a cure. She was the only invalid among them, but a summer at the seaside would no doubt be of benefit to all.

The little girl sitting up there on the driver’s seat had quite forgotten her affliction. She and Back-Kaisa were going away together, and the baby had been left at home! She was looking forward to a revival of those happy, never-to-be-forgotten times.

Snuggling close to the nurse, she put her arms about her neck and asked her again and again if she was not glad that they two could now be together, with no one to disturb them.

There was no reply. But the little girl did not much mind; Back-Kaisa had never been a talking person.

The great highroad to Karlstad was just one hill after another. There was the tortuous stretch round Bävik and Gunnarsby Hill, which was about three and a half English miles long; then came the steep grade up to the Sundgård mountains which was close to vertical. But most perilous of all was Kleva towering above an abyss. It was up and down the whole time, as if one were see-sawing between heaven and earth. Lieutenant Lagerlöf, to make the going easier, had ordered three horses put to the carriage--an arrangement to which neither horses nor driver was accustomed.

If anything was calculated to increase the little girl’s delight at having Back-Kaisa all to herself once more, it was being allowed to sit where she could look down at the frisky horses that dashed on as if the heavy carriage were only a toy wagon, tearing round the curves, with the vehicle sometimes on two wheels. Often the horses would stiffen their legs and make the downgrade almost on their haunches, and when they came to a sudden drop in the road, Magnus would stand up and use the whip desperately, to urge the horses on so that the high carriage would not come tumbling over them.

In the middle of one of these break-neck descents the little girl again turned to the nurse and said:

“Aren’t you glad, Back-Kaisa, to be alone with me? Aren’t you glad, Back-Kaisa, the baby isn’t along?”

There came no response now, either; and wondering, the child turned so that she could see the nurse’s face.... Back-Kaisa sat holding on to the seat, a fixed stare in her eyes, her lips compressed, her face the hue of ashes. “Isn’t Back-Kaisa glad----?” But the little girl now saw that Back-Kaisa was far from glad and she was so crestfallen she could have cried.

Then at last Back-Kaisa spoke:

“Hush up, Selma! You mustn’t talk when you’re facing such danger! Never’ve I known worse! But for your sake, I’d ’ve got down and gone home long ago.”

The little girl sat pondering the reply, not quite satisfied. She was never afraid when with Back-Kaisa, so why should Back-Kaisa be afraid when she was with _her?_ It was nice of her, though, not to get down and go home; but it would have been nicer if she had felt too happy to be scared.

IV

IN THE CABIN ON THE “UDDEHOLM”

THE Mårbacka folk, though still on their journey, no longer sat in fear and trembling in the jolting carriage. Now they were on board a fine steamer called the _Uddeholm._

They had spent the day in Karlstad, shopping and visiting with relatives. Toward evening they left the city and stood waiting a good while on the long pier that shoots far out into big Lake Vänern. No shore being visible in one direction, Back-Kaisa had at once become alarmed; she thought that _over there_ must be the edge of the world. Wonderful to behold--for her as for the others--was the pretty steamer as she emerged from that “shoreless place” and came gliding toward the pier to take them on board.

When Back-Kaisa saw how her master and mistress, Mamselle Lovisa, Johan, and Anna all went up the gangplank without the least hesitancy, she of course followed, albeit reluctantly. She probably thought Lieutenant Lagerlöf had conscience enough not to expose his little ones deliberately to the peril of death. But what would become of them once they reached the world’s end? That was something beyond her ken. She would have liked to remain on deck to see whether the water went down a chasm, or wherever it went. But when dusk began to settle, the Mårbacka women and children were requested to go below-decks. They were conducted into something called a cabin, the smallest room they had ever seen, where they arranged themselves for the night.

On a narrow sofa that took up the whole side of one wall, Fru Lagerlöf lay without undressing. Opposite, on a similar sofa, was Mamselle Lovisa. Over Fru Lagerlöf, on a sort of shelf, Johan was stowed, and Anna occupied another shelf above Mamselle Lovisa’s sofa. On the floor, between the two sofas, with some blankets under them, lay Back-Kaisa and Selma. Thus, every bit of space was occupied; there was not the least little corner where one might stand or sit.

The lights were extinguished, the good-nights said, and everyone settled down to sleep. For a time it was dead still in the cabin. Then, all at once, the floor began to go up and down in the strangest way! The little girl rolled like a ball, first over toward Fru Lagerlöf’s sofa, then back toward the nurse. It was great fun; only she could not understand why the floor did not hold still. Presently she heard her mother and her aunt whisper to each other.

“I must have eaten too much of that rich salmon at the Sjöstedts’,” said her mother.

“I thought at the time it was not very sensible food they set before us,” Aunt Lovisa remarked. “And they knew we were to be out on Vänern.”

“No, Vänern isn’t pleasant!” sighed Fru Lagerlöf.

Then Back-Kaisa, too, began to whisper.

“Say, _Frua_, are we there yet?--there where the sea stops, and the water rushes down the bottomless pit?”

“My dear girl, there’ll be no stop to the sea to-night!” said Fru Lagerlöf, who did not know what Back-Kaisa was talking about.

Again there was silence for a space, but not stillness. The floor rocked on and the little girl continued her delightful rolling.

Fru Lagerlöf struck a match and lit the lantern.

“I must see whether the children are able to hold themselves on their shelves,” she said.

“Lord be praised for the light!” said Mamselle Lovisa. “Anyhow, there’s no chance of our getting a wink of sleep to-night.”

“Oh, Frua! Oh, Mamselle Lovisa! don’t you feel that we’re going down and down?” Back-Kaisa wailed. “Oh, how’ll we ever get out of this deep? How’ll we ever get back home?”

“Now, whatever does she mean?” queried Mamselle Lovisa.

“She says that we have reached the last extremity,” Fru Lagerlöf interpreted--no more comprehending than the other.

The little girl had a faint suspicion that they were uneasy. As for herself, she was exceedingly comfortable, lying as it were in a big rocking-swing.

The door-handle turned, the red hanging was swept to one side, and in the doorway stood Lieutenant Lagerlöf, chuckling.

“How is it, Gustaf?” asked Fru Lagerlöf anxiously. “Will it be a gale, do you think?”

“So you’re awake, all of you,” said the Lieutenant. “Ay, it has blown up a bit,” he conceded in a reassuring tone. “The Captain thought I’d better come down and tell you it will be no worse than it is.”

“What are you up to now?” Mamselle Lovisa asked him. “Aren’t you going to bed?”

“Where do you think I should sleep, Sister dear?” And there was something so screamingly funny about him as he stood in the doorway (further he could not come), looking up and down as if in search of a sleeping place--it set them all laughing. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa, who had been lying there fearful and a little seasick, now sat up in their bunks to have their laugh out. Johan and Anna laughed so hard they nearly shook themselves off their “shelves.” Back-Kaisa forgot for the moment that she would soon be at that dreadful place where the lake ends, and laughed, too, and the little girl by her side was fairly choking with laughter.

Lieutenant Lagerlöf, who seldom laughed aloud, looked highly pleased.

“All’s right with you, I see,” he said. “So now I’ll go up again and chin with the captain.” Whereupon he bade them a cheery good-night, and went his way.

In the cabin the feeling of uneasiness and the qualms of seasickness returned. Fru Lagerlöf again made futile attempts to quiet Back-Kaisa, who went on moaning and wailing that they were getting nearer and nearer that bottomless pit. The little girl by her side must have fallen asleep, for she remembered no more of that night’s experiences.

V

AT THE GOLDSMITH’S SHOP

THE most trying part of the journey was over. The travellers were safely landed at Göteborg, where they cast away all care and set out in the glorious summer weather to view the city.

They wandered up Östra Hamngatan. Lieutenant Lagerlöf, stick in hand, hat pushed far back on his head, spectacles drawn far down on his nose, was in the lead. Behind him walked Fru Lagerlöf, holding Johan by the hand; behind her, Mamselle Lovisa, leading Anna; and last came Back-Kaisa who carried Selma on her arm--for it would never do, she thought, to let the little girl ride pig-back in a city.

Lieutenant Lagerlöf had donned a brown coat and light straw hat. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa were attired in voluminous black silk skirts and fine velvet bodices, with white inserts and wrist-ruffles, over which they wore large cashmere shawls--folded tricornerwise--that almost concealed their dresses; and they had on Panama hats with broad, floppy brims. Johan was in black velvet breeches and smock, and Anna was dressed in a stiffly starched blue polka-dot print worn over a crinoline; and she had both hat and parasol. Selma had on a dress exactly like Anna’s, only she was wearing a sunbonnet instead of a hat, and had neither parasol nor crinoline.

The Lieutenant suddenly halted, turned, and looked back at his line of women and children. He nodded and smiled. It was plain he liked having them with him.

“Here none of us has ever been before,” he said, “so now we’ll look about.”

They sauntered on up the street, now looking at the buildings, now at the canals and little bridges, at passing vehicles and promenaders, at signs and lamp-posts; but most of all, of course, they peered into shop windows.

The Lieutenant did not hurry them, he wanted them to see and enjoy as much as their eyes could take in.

“Nobody here knows us, so gaze as long as you like,” said he.

Mamselle Lovisa stopped before a milliner’s window, where a hat trimmed with white swansdown and pink rosebuds had caught her eye. There she stood, with Anna by the hand, as if rooted to the spot. And of course Lieutenant and Fru Lagerlöf, Johan, Back-Kaisa, and Selma were also obliged to stop before the swansdown hat. But Mamselle Lovisa was not thinking of them; she stood as in a trance. It tickled the Lieutenant to see her so carried away, though after a long, vain wait for her to “come back,” so to speak, he lost patience.

“You’re not thinking of copying that hat, Lovisa?” he said. “Why, that’s more suitable for a girl of seventeen.”

“It may be a pleasure perhaps for one who is not so young to look at pretty things,” retorted Mamselle Lovisa, who, though past her first youth, was still comely and rather elegant in her attire.

When they were well away from the swansdown hat they came to a goldsmith’s shop. Now it was the Lieutenant who stopped first. As he stood feasting his eyes on the trays of sparkling rings and bracelets, shining silver spoons and goblets, and much else displayed in the window, he ejaculated innocent oaths of delight.

“Here we’ll go in!” he said abruptly.

“But, Gustaf!” Fru Lagerlöf protested, “we can’t be buying such things now.”

She laid a restraining hand on his arm, for he had already opened the big plate-glass door of the shop and was stepping in. There was nothing for the others to do but follow. By the time they were all inside he was over at the counter talking to a young clerk.

“No, thank you, I don’t wish to buy anything,” he said. “But, seeing so many choice things in the window, I thought I’d just step in and ask if I might also have a peep at the fine wares you have in the shop.”

The clerk looked a bit uneasy, and seemed at a loss what to reply. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa now stood with their hands on the Lieutenant’s shoulders, trying to drag him away.

The goldsmith himself presently emerged from an inner room. He had evidently heard them come in, and probably thought he would do a brisk trade. Placing himself beside the clerk, he put the flat of his hands on the counter and inquired invitingly what was desired.

Lieutenant Lagerlöf repeated in substance what he had said to the clerk--that he would very much like to see the beautiful wares in the place though he could not afford to purchase any.

The goldsmith cocked his head and looked at the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye.

“The gentleman, I take it, is a Värmlander?” he said.

“Hell, yes, of course I’m a Värmlander!” the Lieutenant wagged back. “What the deuce else should I be?”

Then everybody roared. The clerks all crowded round the Lieutenant, and from the inner rooms came a finely dressed woman--the wife of the goldsmith--who wanted to know what the fun was about.

Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa were so mortified they could have wished themselves back in the jolting carriage on the Karlstad road, or the rocking boat on stormy Vänern--anywhere but in that fine shop!

“Come now, Gustaf,” they urged, “for pity’s sake let us get out of here!”

“No, no, please don’t go!” begged the goldsmith in his most persuasive tone. “We should be so happy to show you what we carry here.”

He gave orders to the clerks, who ran up ladders and brought down everything from the shelves, opened cabinets, and took out all their contents, so that the long counter was literally covered with gold and silverware. The shop-keeper and his wife took up each article and showed it to the strangers, explaining its workmanship and what it was for.

Lieutenant Lagerlöf drew off his spectacles and polished the lenses with his silk handkerchief, the better to see. He picked up heavy silver tankards and examined their ornamentations, admiring and praising them.

“I say, Lovisa, this is worse than at the Deanery in Sunne!” he remarked to his sister.

Another time he held a large silver salver before the eyes of Back-Kaisa. “The Giant of Åsbergen doesn’t dine off finer plate--eh, Kaisa?” he said.

The clerks sniggered and joked among themselves, having fun at his expense. The goldsmith and his wife were also enjoying themselves, but in a different way. They were friendly, and liked the Lieutenant. It was not long before they knew who he was, and whom he had with him; that he was on his way to Strömstad to seek a cure for a child who had some hip trouble and could not walk.

Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa, seeing that all went well, composed themselves and began to look at and delight in the display. Fru Lagerlöf was pleased to find an old design in silver spoons, such as they once had in her parental home, and Mamselle Lovisa became quite as enraptured with a sugar bowl as she had been shortly before with the swansdown hat.

When they had finally seen enough and were saying good-bye, it seemed almost as if they were parting from old friends. The goldsmith, his wife, and all the clerks followed them out into the street. Passers-by must have thought they had made purchases amounting to thousands of kronor.

“I really must apologize,” said Lieutenant Lagerlöf, putting out his hand in a final farewell.

“Don’t think of it, Lieutenant!” answered the goldsmith.

“But we have put you to so much trouble,” Fru Lagerlöf interpolated in a deprecating tone.

“We have had a most enjoyable hour,” the goldsmith assured her, “so don’t be uneasy about us! One has to do something for one’s own pleasure, now and then, though one does stand in a shop.”

As the Lieutenant continued his stroll up Östra Hamngatan his hat was pushed farther back on his head than usual. He flourished his cane as he stepped along, proud of his adventure.

Fru Lagerlöf said in a low voice to Mamselle Lovisa: “I can’t tell you how anxious I was; I thought we would surely be thrown out.”

“It would never have done for any one but Gustaf,” replied Mamselle Lovisa, “but no one can resist him.”

VI

GRAY ISLAND

NOW the Mårbacka folk had no anxiety in providing for the table; they had only to run out to the market and purchase whatever was needed. They were not worrying about the cows not having good pasturage, nor the oats not coming up; they lived amid barren cliffs and water, and had forgotten there were such things in the world as fields and meadows. Nor did they have to stand in a hot kitchen preparing fancy dishes for far-come guests, nor worry their heads out of joint wondering where they’d find sleeping-room and bedding enough for all. If the animals sickened or the housekeeper and the maids fell to quarrelling, they were blissfully unaware of it. They had freedom and leisure for healthful amusements, with no cares or annoyances of any sort.

Never had they led such an easy, comfortable life. Fru Lagerlöf, who had come to Strömstad rather thin and worn, took on flesh and colour. She soon looked and felt ten years younger. Mamselle Lovisa, who was quite stout and logy, and so diffident she could hardly open her mouth when among strangers, lost weight, grew better looking, and more sociable. Johan and Anna made many friends among the little Strömstad children. Johan was quite wild about crabbing, and Anna had become so attached to two little girls, daughters of the confectioner, who were continually treating her to sweets, they both declared they never wanted to go home again.

As for the little sick girl, there had been no marked improvement; she was apparently no better or stronger. But that did not seem to trouble her. She had got her wish: Back-Kaisa and she were again inseparable friends; she could order her about and was being petted and spoiled by her just as in the first days of her illness.

But the one who had the best time was Lieutenant Lagerlöf. The first week or so he must have got many a sharp look and curt reply when he spoke to every person he met, as was his wont when walking along the road at home. But he was not daunted. It was a point of honour with him to be on friendly terms with people. Nor could the Strömstaders resist him in the long run. A smile lighted up the solemn faces of the pious women of the Schartuan sect when they passed him in the street. He had been in their cottages and drunk coffee with them, had asked after their husbands, and had praised their children. A gang of small boys tagged after him in the street, for they had discovered that he always had a pocketful of coppers. With the fishermen he was on so solid a footing that one after another asked him to go out mackerel fishing. All the old retired sea captains, who went about at home bored and longing to be out at sea, treated him to grog on their little verandas, and told him of their adventures and perils in the days when they knocked about the world.

Lieutenant Lagerlöf liked the people, and wanted to know how they lived their lives in their part of the country. He was no respecter of persons, but spoke to all, high and low, and he never lacked for topics of conversation. Good-humoured, kindly man that he was, it was not strange the Strömstaders liked him. And it cannot be said that he did not know his power.

Fortune favoured the Mårbacka folk in every way on this sojourn. For one thing, they found dear old friends from Värmland, in whose company they spent many pleasant hours. They were a Professor Tobiaeson of Filipstad, his wife and two sisters, and Professor Lundström, a bachelor--all of their own social circle.

Together, they made up a boating party and went sailing nearly every day. These outings were the delight of the children, for the Lieutenant, in his inimitable way, would then tell of his interesting encounters with the Strömstad folk. Besides, they always had a couple of large, well-stocked hampers in the boat, so that when they grew tired of sailing they could go ashore on one of the little rock islands and have a picnic spread. Then the children would run about and gather sea-shells--something they had never seen before. They wondered at their being allowed to take as many as they wished of these rare treasures, and they loved them as they loved the flowers and the berries of the field.

They were now out on one of their cruises. The weather was fine with just enough wind; the picnic baskets were full of goodies, and the Lieutenant was loaded with anecdotes. Everyone was looking forward to a pleasant evening.

Then, unhappily, some one remarked that they had not yet visited the island just outside Strömstad known as Gray Island. So they immediately decided to lay-to at the island on the return sail, and have their little supper there.

It seems that some hundred years back there lived on Gray Island an infamous old troll named Tita Gray, who was said to be more powerful than the Old Nick himself. When she was alive no human being was allowed to set foot on the island. Those who ventured met with instant mishap--broke an arm or a leg or slipped on the slimy rocks, and fell into the sea.

Since Tita Gray had long been dead and gone, it must be quite safe to visit the island, they thought. All the same the skipper warned them. He told how he and a couple of fellows were walking across the island one day in the spring, when suddenly one of them went down a cleft and fractured his leg.

That made the island all the more alluring to the party; they could hardly wait to set foot on it. Presently the boat turned toward the island and slipped in under the towering cliff wall. The skipper looked for a suitable mooring place.

Just then little Anna pulled at her mother’s arm, and said: “Mamma, Selma is crying.”