Gudmund did not answer her, but turned to the Juryman. "Now I am sure of my case," he said. "It is useless to talk of a wedding."
With this the conference was ended, and Gudmund and Erland went their way.
They had to pa.s.s through a number of rooms and corridors before they came out, and everywhere they saw preparations for the wedding. The door leading to the kitchen was open, and they saw many bustling about in eager haste. The smell of roasts and of baking penetrated the air; the whole fireplace was covered with large and small pots and pans, and the copper saucepans, which usually decorated the walls, were down and in use. "Fancy, it is for my wedding that they are puttering like this!"
thought Gudmund, as he was pa.s.sing.
He caught a glimpse, so to speak, of all the wealth of this old peasant estate as he wandered through the house. He saw the dining-hall, where the long tables were set with a long row of silver goblets and decanters. He pa.s.sed by the clothes-press, where the floor was covered with great chests and where the walls were hung with an endless array of wearing apparel. When he came out in the yard, he saw many vehicles, old and new, and fine horses being led out from the stable, and gorgeous carriage robes placed in the carriages. He looked out across a couple of farms with cow-sheds, barns, sheep-folds, storehouses, sheds, larders, and many other buildings. "All this might have been mine," he thought, as he seated himself in the cart.
Suddenly he was seized with a sense of bitter regret. He would have liked to throw himself out of the cart and go in and say that what he had told them was not true. He had only wished to joke with them and frighten them. It was awfully stupid of him to confess. Of what use had it been to him to confess? The dead was dead. No, this confession carried nothing with it save his ruin.
These last weeks he had not been very enthusiastic over this marriage.
But now, when he must renounce it, he realized what it was worth to him.
It meant much to lose Hildur Ericsdotter and all that went with her.
What did it matter that she was domineering and opinionated? She was still the peer of all in these regions, and through her he would have come by great power and honor.
It was not only Hildur and her possessions he was missing, but minor things as well. At this moment he should have been driving to the church, and all who looked upon him would have envied him. And it was to-day that he should have sat at the head of the wedding table and been in the thick of the dancing and the gayety. It was his great luck-day that was going from him.
Erland turned time and again to his son and looked at him. Now he was not so handsome or transfigured as he had been in the morning, but sat there listless and heavy and dull-eyed. The father wondered if the son regretted having confessed and meant to question him about it, but thought it best to be silent.
"Where are we driving to now?" asked Gudmund presently. "Wouldn"t it be as well to go at once to the sheriff?"
"You had better go home first and have a good sleep," said the father.
"You have not had much sleep these last nights, I dare say."
"Mother will be frightened when she sees us."
"She won"t be surprised," answered the father, "for she knows quite as much as I do. She will be glad, of course, that you have confessed."
"I believe mother and the rest of you at home are glad to get me into prison," snarled Gudmund.
"We know that you are losing a good deal in acting rightly," said the father. "We can"t help but be glad because you have conquered yourself."
Gudmund felt that he could not endure going home and having to listen to all who would commend him because he had spoiled his future. He sought some excuse that he might escape meeting any one until he had recovered his poise. Then they drove by the place where the path led to Big Marsh.
"Will you stop here, father? I think I"ll run up to see Helga and have a talk with her."
Willingly the father reined in the horse. "Only come home as quickly as you can, that you may rest yourself," said he.
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 Narlunda 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.