Strife and Peace | Page 6

was seen. And woe to those who did any
wrong to the little Hulda! They had to experience the whole force of
Susanna's often strong-handed displeasure. For her sake Susanna
passed here several years of laborious servitude: as she, however, saw
no end to this, yet was scarcely able to dress herself and her sister
befittingly, and besides this was prevented by the multitude of her
occupations from bestowing upon her sister that care which she
required, therefore Susanna, in her twentieth year, looked about her for
a better situation.

From the confined situation in which Susanna spent such a weary life,
she was able to see one tree behind a fence, which stretched out its
branches over the street. Many a spring and summer evening, when the
rest of the inhabitants of the house were abroad on parties of pleasure,
sate Susanna quietly by the little slumbering Hulda, within the little
chamber which she had fitted up for herself and her sister, and observed
with quiet melancholy from her window the green tree, whose twigs
and leaves waved and beckoned so kindly and invitingly in the wind.
By degrees the green leaves beckoned into her soul thoughts and plans,
which eventually fashioned themselves into a determined form, or
rather an estate, whose realisation from this time forth became the
paradise of her soul and the object of her life. This estate was a little
farm in the country, which Susanna would rent, and cultivate, and make
profitable by her own industry and her own management. She planted
potatoes; she milked cows and made butter; she sowed, she reaped; and
the labour was to her a delight; for there, upon the soft grass, under the
green, waving tree, sate the little Hulda, and played with flowers, and
her blue eyes beamed with happiness, and no care and no want came
near her.
All Susanna's thoughts and endeavours directed themselves to the
realising of this idea. The next step towards it was the obtaining a good
service, in which, by saving her wages, she could obtain a sum of
money sufficient to commence her rural undertaking. Susanna flattered
herself, that in a few years she could bring her scheme to bear, and
therefore made inquiries after a suitable situation.
There were this year among the visitors at the watering-place of
Gustafsberg, which lay near to Uddevalla, a Norwegian Colonel and his
lady. He was lame from a paralytic stroke, and had lost the use of his
speech and of his hands. He was a large man, of a fierce, stern exterior;
and although he seemed to endure nobody near him but his wife, and
perpetually demanded her care, still it was evidently not out of love.
And although his wife devoted herself unweariedly and self-denyingly
to his service, still this evidently was not from love either, but from
some other extraordinary power. Her own health was visibly deeply

affected, and violent spasms often attacked her breast; but night or day,
whenever it was his will to rise, it was her patient, bowed neck around
which his arm was laid. She stood by his side, and supported him in the
cold shower-bath, which was intended to re-awaken his dormant power
of life, at the same time that it destroyed hers. She was ever there,
always firm and active, seldom speaking, and never complaining. By
the painful contraction of her countenance alone, and by the peculiarity
of laying her hand upon her heart, it could be seen that she suffered.
Susanna had an opportunity of seeing all this, and admiration and
sympathy filled her breast. Before long she was fortunate enough to
assist the noble lady, to offer to her her strong youthful arm as support,
and to watch over the sick man when his wife was compelled to close
her eyes from fatigue. And fortunately the invalid endured her. Susanna
was witness of the last horrible scenes by the death-bed of the Colonel.
He seemed to make violent efforts to say something, but--he could not.
Then he made signs that he wished to write something; but his fingers
could not hold the pen. Then presented itself a horrible disquiet on his
distorted features. With that his wife bowed herself over him, and with
an expression of the greatest anxiety, seized one of his hands and
whispered--"Give me only a sign, as answer! Tell me! Tell me! does he
yet live?"
The sick man riveted upon her a strong gaze, and--bowed his head.
Was this an assenting answer, or was it the hand of death which forbad
an answer? No one could tell, for he never again raised his head. It was
his last movement.
For many days afterwards a quick succession of spasmodic attacks
seemed to threaten the widowed lady with approaching death. Susanna