Feats on the Fiord | Page 4

always so busy after
everybody's affairs,--about the Water-sprite, an acquaintance of every
one who lives beside a river or lake,--and about the Mountain-Demon,
familiar to all who lived so near Sulitelma; besides these common
spirits, the girls used to hear of a multitude of others from old Peder,
the blind houseman, and from all the farm-people, down to Oddo, the
herd-boy. Their parents hoped that this taste of theirs might die away if
once Erica, with her sad, serious face and subdued voice, were removed
to a house of her own, where they would see her supported by her
husband's unfearing mind, and occupied with domestic business more
entirely than in her mistress's house. So Madame Erlingsen was well
pleased that Erica was betrothed; and she could only have been better
satisfied if she had been married at once.
For this marrying, however, the young people must wait. There was no
house, or houseman's place, vacant for them at present. There was a
prospect, however. The old houseman Peder, who had served
Erlingsen's father and Erlingsen himself for fifty-eight years, could now
no longer do the weekly work on the farm which was his rent for his
house, field, and cow. He was blind and old. His aged wife, Ulla, could
not leave the house; and it was the most she could do to keep the
dwelling in order, with occasional help from one and another.
Housemen who make this sort of contract with farmers in Norway are
never turned out. They have their dwelling and field for their own life
and that of their wives. What they do, when disabled, is to take in a
deserving young man to do their work for the farmer, on the
understanding that he succeeds to the houseman's place on the death of
the old people. Peder and Ulla had made this agreement with Erica's
lover, Rolf; and it was understood that his marriage with Erica should
take place whenever the old people should die.

It was impossible for Erica herself to fear that Nipen was offended, at
the outset of this festival day. If he had chosen to send a wind, the
guests could not have come; for no human frame can endure travelling
in a wind in Nordland on a January day. Happily, the air was so calm
that a flake of snow, or a lock of eider-down, would have fallen straight
to the ground. At two o'clock, when the short daylight was gone, the
stars were shining so brightly, that the company who came by the fiord
would be sure to have an easy voyage. Almost all came by the fiord, for
the only road from Erlingsen's house led to so few habitations, and was
so narrow, steep, and rocky, that an arrival by that way was a rare event.
The path was now, however, so smooth with frozen snow, that more
than one sledge attempted and performed the descent. Erlingsen and
some of his servants went out to the porch, on hearing music from the
water, and stood with lighted pine-torches to receive their guests, when,
approaching from behind, they heard the sound of the sleigh-bells, and
found that company was arriving both by sea and land.
It was a pretty sight,--such an arrival. In front, there was the head of a
boat driving up upon the white beach, and figure after figure leaping
out, and hastening to be welcomed in the porch; while, in the midst of
the greeting, the quick and regular beat of a horse's feet was heard on
the frozen ground, and the active little animal rushed into the light,
shaking his mane and jingling his bells, till suddenly checked by the
driver, who stood upright at the back of the sledge, while the ladies
reclined, so wrapped in furs that nothing could be seen of them till they
had entered the house, and issued forth from the room where they threw
off their pelisses and cloaks. Glad had the visitors been, whether they
came by land or water, to arrive in sight of the lighted dwelling, whose
windows looked like rows of yellow stars, contrasting with the blue
ones overhead; and more glad still were they to be ushered into the
great room, where all was so light, so warm, so cheerful! Warm it was,
to the farthest corner; and too warm near the roaring and crackling fires;
for the fires were of pine-wood. Rows upon rows of candles were
fastened against the walls, above the heads of the company; the floor
was strewn with juniper twigs; and the spinning-wheels, the carding
boards, every token of household labour was removed, except a loom,
which remained in one corner. In another corner was a welcome

sight--a platform of rough boards, two feet from the floor, and on