Feats on the Fiord | Page 7

and,
may be, Erica's. Rolf has a good heart, and I doubt not Ulla and I shall
have great comfort in him. He lives with us, sir, from this night
forwards. There is no fear that he will wish us in our graves, though we
stand between him and his marriage."
"That must be rather a painful consideration to you."
"Not at all, sir, at present. Ulla and I were all the happier, we think, to
this day, for having had four such years as these young people have
before them to know one another in, and grow suitable in notions and
habits, and study to please one another. By the time Rolf and Erica are
what we were, one or both of us will be underground, and Rolf will
have, I am certain, the pleasant feeling of having done his duty by us. It
is all as it should be, sir; and I pray that they may live to say at our age
what Ulla and I can say at the same season of our lives."
The pastor made no answer. He had not heard the last few words; for
what Peder said of being underground had plunged him into a reverie
about Peder's funeral sermon, which he should, of course, have to
preach. He was pondering how he should at once do justice to Peder's
virtues and mark his own disapprobation of the countenance Peder gave
to the superstitions of the region in which he lived. He must keep in
view the love and respect in which the old man was held by everybody,
and yet he must bear witness against the great fault above mentioned.
He composed two or three paragraphs in his imagination which he
thought would do, and then committed them to memory. He was roused

from this employment by a loud laugh from the man whose funeral he
was meditating, and saw that Peder was enjoying life at present as
much as the youngest, with a glass of punch in his hand, and a group of
old men and women round him recalling the jests of fifty years ago.
"How goes it, Rolf?" said his master, who, having done his duty in the
dancing-room, was now making his way to the card-tables, in another
apartment, to see how his guests there were entertained. Thinking that
Rolf looked very absent, as he stood, in the pause of the dance, in
silence by Erica's side, Erlingsen clapped him on the shoulder, and said,
"How goes it? Make your friends merry."
Rolf bowed and smiled, and his master passed on.
"How goes it?" repeated Rolf to Erica, as he looked earnestly into her
face. "Is all going on well, Erica?"
"Certainly. I suppose so. Why not?" she replied. "If you see anything
wrong,--anything omitted, be sure and tell me. Madame Erlingsen
would be very sorry. Is there anything forgotten, Rolf?"
"I think you have forgotten what the day is: that is all. Nobody that
looked at you, love, would fancy it to be your own day. You look
anything but merry. Hardly a smile from you to-night! And that is a
great omission."
"O, Rolf, there is something so much better than merriment!"
"Yes, love; but where is it? Not in your heart to-night, Erica."
"Yes, indeed, Rolf."
"You look as dull,--as sad,--you and Hund, as if--"
"Hund!" repeated Erica, glancing around the room for Hund, and not
seeing him till her lover reminded her that Hund was the musician.
"Hund does seem dull enough to be sure," said she, smiling; "I hope I
do not often look like that."

"I am more sorry for him than you are, I see," said Rolf, brightening
when he found how entirely Hund had been absent from her thoughts.
"I am more sorry for Hund than you are: and with good reason, for I
know what the happiness is that he has missed, poor fellow! But yet I
think you might feel a little more for him. It would show that you know
how to value love."
"Indeed I am very sorry for him; but more for his disappointment about
the house than any other. To-day once over, he will soon fix his love on
somebody else. Perhaps we shall be dancing on his betrothment-day
before the year is out."
"Then I hope his girl will look merrier than you do to-night," muttered
Rolf, with a sigh. "O, Erica! I wish you would trust me. I could take
care of you, and make you quite happy, if you would only believe it.
Ah! I know what that look means. I know you love me, and all that; but
you are always tormenting yourself--"
"I think I know one who is cleverer still at tormenting himself," said
Erica, with a smile. "Come, Rolf,