Jerusalem | Page 7

more than three years, either.'
"But father does not say a word.
"'It will be hard for her when fall comes, and she's sent home. They
won't be glad to have her again at Bergskog. Her folks all feel that she
has brought shame upon them, and they're pretty sure to let her know it,
too! There will be nothing for her but to sit at home all the while; she
won't even dare to go to church. It's going to be hard for her in every
way.'
"But father doesn't answer.

"'It is not such an easy thing for me to marry her! To have a wife that
menservants and maidservants will look down upon is not a pleasant
prospect for a man with a big farmstead. Nor would mother like it. We
never invite people to the house, either to weddings or funerals.'
"Meanwhile, not a word out of father.
"Of course at the trial I tried to help her as much as I could. I told the
judge that I was entirely to blame, as I took the girl against her will. I
also said that I considered her so innocent of any wrong that I would
marry her then and there, if she could only think better of me. I said
that so the judge would give her a lighter sentence. Although I've had
two letters from her, there's nothing in them to show any changed
feeling toward me. So you see, father, I'm not obliged to marry her
because of that speech.'
"Father sits and ponders, but he doesn't speak.
"'I know that this is simply looking at the thing from the viewpoint of
men, and we Ingmars have always wanted to stand well in the sight of
God. And yet sometimes I think that maybe our Lord wouldn't like it if
we honoured a murderess.'
"And father doesn't utter a sound.
"'Think, father, how one must feel who lets another suffer without
giving a helping hand. I have passed through too much these last few
years not to try to do something for her when she gets out.
"Father sits there immovable.
"Now I can hardly keep back the tears. 'You see, father, I'm a young
man and will lose much if I marry her. Every one seems to think I've
already made a mess of my life; they will think still worse of me after
this!'
"But I can't make father say a word.
"'I have often wondered why it is that we Ingmars have been allowed to
remain on our farm for hundreds of years, while the other farms have
all changed hands. And the thought comes to me that it may be because
the Ingmars have always tried to walk in the ways of God. We Ingmars
need not fear man; we have only to walk in God's ways.'
"Then the old man looks up and says: 'This is a difficult problem, my
son. I guess I'll go in and talk it over with the other Ingmarssons.'
"So father goes back to the living-room, while I remain in the kitchen.
There I sit waiting and waiting, but father does not return. Then, after

hours and hours of this, I get cross and go to him. 'You must have
patience, little Ingmar,' says father. 'This is a difficult question.' And I
see all the old yeomen sitting there with closed eyes, deep in thought.
So I wait and wait and, for aught I know, must go on waiting."
Smiling, he followed the plow, which was now moving along very
slowly, as if the horses were tired out and could scarcely drag it. When
he came to the end of the furrow he pulled up the plow and rested. He
had become very serious.
"Strange, when you ask anyone's advice you see yourself what is right.
Even while you are asking, you discover all at once what you hadn't
been able to find out in three whole years. Now it shall be as God
wills."
He felt that this thing must be done, but at the same time it seemed so
hard to him that the mere thought of it took away his courage. "Help
me, Lord!" he said.
Ingmar Ingmarsson was, however, not the only person abroad at that
hour. An old man came trudging along the winding path that crossed
the fields. It was not difficult to guess his occupation, for he carried on
his shoulder a long-handled paint brush and was spattered with red
paint from his cap to his shoe tips. He kept glancing round-about, after
the manner of journeymen painters, to find an unpainted farmhouse or
one that needed repainting. He had seen, here and there, one and
another which he thought might answer his purpose, but he could not