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Updated: May 15, 2025
"I've thought of going to America myself once or twice," says Eleseus frankly. "You?" cries Brede. "Why, there's little need for the likes of you going that way surely!" "Well, 'twas not going over to stay for ever I was thinking. But I've been travelling about so many places now, I might just as well make the trip over there." "Ay, of course, and why not?
"That's but a step," he cried in surprise. "It's a step," said I, "that will be taken with dignity and consequence." So, with the afternoon sun shining in our faces, we set out from the house of Brede, leaving but few men to guard it.
Ho, all this deference pleases him, and he is kind and gracious in return; calls Brede "My dear sir," in jest, and goes on that way. He mentions that he has forgotten his umbrella: "Just as we were passing Breidablik, I thought of it; left my umbrella behind." Brede asks: "You'll be going over to our little store this evening, belike, for a drink?" Says Eleseus: "Ay, maybe, if 'twas only myself.
He follows the telegraph line all the way to the spot, then pulls off his jacket and falls to work. As the trees are felled, he strips off the branches, leaving the clean trunks, and piles up the small wood in heaps. Brede Olsen comes by on his way up trouble on the line, no doubt, after yesterday's storm.
Nevertheless, the truth is that this homestead with all its interior and exterior furnishings costs more than the business is worth. Manufacturer Brede, too, has put money into it, and that is why Mrs. Brede comes here every year with her children, to get their dividends in board and lodging. No wonder she has a house to herself; after all, it's her own house.
Brede is unprepared, but answers: "Three o'clock? Yes, yes, quite right. We sat up late, there was something we had to talk about," says Brede. The Lensmand's lady then solemnly declares that Barbro shall go out no more at nights. "No, no," says Brede. "Not as long as she's in this house." "No, no; there, you can see, Barbro, I told you so," says her father.
The new man was Brede Olsen, Lensmand's assistant, a man to go to when the doctor had to be fetched, or a pig to be killed. He was not yet thirty, but had four children to look after, not to speak of his wife, who was as good as a child herself.
"Who is she?" inquired Le Brede, impatiently. "Eh, my dear fellow, it is Lady Harton, a cousin of the Prince. She is extremely rich, and owns a district in London." "They say that a year ago she was very kind to Serge Panine," added Du Tremblays, confidentially. "Why did he not marry her, then, since she is so rich? He has been quite a year in the market, the dear Prince." "She is married."
Carrying, carrying, full of bitterness and flashing fire; a miserable part indeed, to carry a basket instead of leading a helpless man. What did Brede want coming that way at all devil of a man! "Brede," says she, "what's it they're saying, you've sold your place and all?" "And who's it wants to know?" says Brede boldly. "Why, as to that, I'd never thought 'twas any secret not to be known."
My wife and I like best to remember him riding to meet us at the gate of the Park at Brede. Born master of his sincere impressions, he was also a born horseman. He never appeared so happy or so much to advantage as on the back of a horse. He had formed the project of teaching my eldest boy to ride, and meantime, when the child was about two years old, presented him with his first dog.
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