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Whenever old Corporal Felt would come stumbling in, tipsy and shaky, and ask for a bottle of beer, Brita would give him a blunt "No," and when poor Kolbjörn's Lena came and wanted to buy a fine brooch, Brita sent her home with several pounds of rye meal. The peasant woman who dropped in to buy some light flimsy fabric was told to go home and weave suitable and durable cloth on her own loom.
But it was already eight o'clock and Bjarne was not yet to be seen. The night was dark and stormy; a cold sleet fiercely lashed the window-panes, and the wind roared in the chimney. Grimhild, the younger sister, ran restlessly out and in and slammed the doors after her. Brita sat tightly pressed up against the wall in the darkest corner of the room.
A cluster of white-stemmed birches threw its shadow over the stone where the penitent mother was sitting, and the tall grass on both sides of the path nearly hid her from sight. Presently the church-folk began to appear, and Brita raised her head and drew her veil down over her face.
"I haven't seen her anywhere hereabouts," said Brita; "you may have to wander far, before you get on the track of her." "Yes, that is very likely. And I am tired already." "Won't you sit down and rest yourself?"
A sudden shock ran through her at the sound of that name; in the next moment a deep blush stole over her countenance. "And my name," she said, slowly, "is Brita Bjarne's daughter Blakstad." She fixed her eyes upon him, as if to see what effect her words produced. But his features wore the same sad and placid expression; and no line in his face seemed to betray either surprise or ill-will.
All the pews were filled save one, and in that there was only one person. He saw at once that it was Brita and knew, of course, that no one had cared to sit with her. Ingmar went and sat down beside her. Brita looked up at him in wonderment. She had not noticed it before, but now she understood why she had the pew to herself.
I had a faint suspicion that Brita was brooding over my putting off the wedding, but I was afraid to ask her about it. You know, father, you always said that the year I married, the house was to have a fresh coat of red paint. That year I simply couldn't afford it. By next year everything will be all right, I thought then." The plowman walked along, his lips moving all the while.
"No, it would never do, Ingmar." "I've had to put up with a lot on your account; no one would notice me because of my treatment of you." "Now you are doing what you threatened to do," said Brita. "You're striking me." "I can't begin to tell you how mad I am at you." She kept still. "When I think of all I've had to stand these last few weeks " he went on. "But Ingmar "
He took the letter, thrust it into his pocket, and drove on. As soon as he felt sure that he could not be seen from the road, he slowed down and brought out the letter. Instantly Brita put her hand on his arm. "Don't read it!" she begged. "Why not?" he asked. "Never mind reading it; it's nothing." "But how can you know?" "It's a letter from me." "Then tell me yourself what's in it."
But later, when the struggle is at an end, and June has victoriously seated herself upon her throne, her voice becomes more richly subdued and brings rest and comfort to the ear and to the troubled heart. It was while the month was in this latter mood that Brita and her son entered once more the valley whence, twenty-five years ago, they had fled.
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