Garman And Worse A Norwegian Novel by Alexander Lange Kielland (best ereader for pdf and epub txt) 📕

Piano. He Is Only Going In To See Father. Clara,  Clara! You Are Standing

On My Dress! Here He Is! It Is A Visit! Who Can Have Taken My Cuffs?"

Mrs. Sparre Was Not Long In Getting Them Into Order. The Street Door Was

Opened. There Was A Moment'S Breathless Expectation In The Room. It Was

Agreed That Miss Barbara,  The Eldest,  Was To Say,  "Come In," And As All

Eyes Were Fixed Upon Her,  She Became Quite Pale With Emotion. A Knock At

The Door Was Heard; But It Was At The Study Door,  And The Dean Said,

"Come In!" The Door Was Heard To Open,  And A Subdued Conversation Began

In The Room.

"I Told You He Was Only Going To See Father."

"Yes,  And So Did I," Another Said. "What Was The Good Of Rushing About

Looking For Your Cuffs?"

"I Didn'T Rush About!"

"Yes,  You Did!"

"Hush! I Wonder What He Wants With Father?" Said Mrs. Sparre. All Were

Silent,  But They Could Not Hear Anything Of The Conversation Which Was

Going On In The Other Room.

Mr. Johnsen Had Come To Ask The Dean To Fulfil The Promise He Had Made

To Him Some Weeks Previously,  And To Kindly Give Him Permission To

Preach In The Church The Next Sunday. The Dean Had Not Forgotten His

Promise,  And Was Only Too Glad To Have An Opportunity Of Fulfilling It.

He Also Begged To Thank Mr. Johnsen For His Goodness In Offering To

Assist Him In His Duties.

As Far As That Went,  Answered Mr. Johnsen,  He Would Not Conceal From Him

That It Was Not So Much Consideration For The Weight Of His Duties Which

Had Impelled Him To Make The Request. He Must Confess,  That It Was

Rather That He Wished To Have An Opportunity Of Addressing The

Congregation On A Personal Matter.

The Dean Could Quite Feel That His Connection With The School Would Lead

To The Desire Of Speaking A Few Words To The Parents Of The Children Who

Were Entrusted To His Care.

But This Again Was Not Exactly The Subject On Which Mr. Johnsen Wished

To Speak. There Were Many Things Which Might Weigh On The Mind And

Oppress The Thoughts. It Would Be Better,  Once For All,  To Disburden The

Conscience By Coming Forward Honestly And Truthfully.

The Dean Allowed That The Idea Was Only Natural. It Was The Duty Of

Every Christian,  And Especially Of A Clergyman,  To Speak Truthfully. But

Sincerity Was A Rare Virtue,  And Was Often Hidden Under The Changing

Circumstances Of Life. But Great Care Would Be Necessary. It Was Of The

First Importance To Examine Closely Both One'S Mind And One'S

Composition.

Johnsen Was Able To Say Honestly That He Had Arrived At His Conclusions

After Earnest Thought And Conscientious Inquiry,  And That His Conviction

Was The Result Of Many Lonely Hours Of Self-Examination.

The Dean Could Assure Him That He Well Knew These Lonely Hours Of

Thought,  And Great Was The Blessing That Might Be Found In Them; But He

Would Venture To Suggest What He Knew From His Own Experience,  That The

Problems Which A Man Worked Out Alone Were Not Always The Most

Trustworthy. He Would,  Therefore,  Remind Him Of The Passage Where We Are

Recommended To Confess To Each Other,  Which Seemed To Suggest Working In

Fellowship,  And Giving Each Other Mutual Assistance.

Johnsen Answered That That Was The Very Reason Why He Wished To Speak To

The Congregation.

The Two Sat On Opposite Sides Of The Dean'S Table,  Regarding Each Other

Attentively. Johnsen Was Pale And Had Something Nervous About His

Manner,  Which Seemed To Betoken A Wish To Bring The Interview To A

Close.

Dean Sparre Sat Leaning Back In His Armchair,  And In His Hand He Held A

Large Ivory Paper-Knife,  Which He Used To Emphasize His Words; Not,

Indeed,  For The Purpose Of Gesticulating Or Striking On The Table,  But

Every Now And Then,  When He Came To Some Particular Point,  He Drew The

Knife Up And Down On The Sheets Of Paper Which Lay Before Him.

To Speak The Thoughts Plainly Before The Congregation Was Certainly

Desirable In Itself,  And Entirely In accordance With Scripture. But It

Was Quite Easy To Imagine That A Man Might Want To Make Other

Confessions Which Should Not Be For Every Ear. The Church Had,

Therefore,  Another And More Restricted Form Of Confession,  Which Was Not

Only Just As Much In accordance With Scripture,  But Might Often Be Still

Better Adapted To Ease The Troubled Heart.

Johnsen Got Up To Take His Leave. He Felt A Great Wish To Speak Before

The Congregation. It Was,  In His Opinion,  Of The Greatest Importance

That He Should Have A Perfectly Clear Idea Of His Own Views,  And That

There Should Be Nothing Obscure Or Insincere Between Him And His

Hearers.

The Dean Also Got Up,  And Shook Hands On Wishing Him Good-Bye. He Gave

His Young Friend His Best Wishes For His Undertaking,  And Hoped He Would

Bear In Mind That He,  As Dean,  Was Always Ready To Assist Him In every

Way,  If He Should At Any Time Feel The Need Of His Services.

"You Will Bear This In Mind,  My Young Friend,  Will You Not?" Said The

Old Dean,  With A Fatherly Look.

Johnsen Muttered Something About Thanks As He Hurried Out Of The Room.

He Was No Longer In The Frame Of Mind In Which He Had Been During The

Last Few Weeks. The Peaceful,  Genial Air Of The Dean'S Study,  With Its

Well-Filled Bookshelves,  Had Had A Wonderful Effect Upon Him,  As Had

Also The Dean,  With His Manner,  Which Was At The Same Time So Mild And

So Earnest. The Mind Of The Young Clergyman Seemed,  As It Were,  Softened

By An Influence Which He Did Not Clearly Understand,  And The Power Of

Which He Was Not Willing To Recognize.

After A Long Walk,  Johnsen At Length Arrived In The Large Field Which

Lay Beyond Sandsgaard. From This Position He Could Look Down Into The

Garden And Premises Near The House. He Could Follow With His Eye The

Broad Path Where Rachel And He Had So Often Walked Together,  And Their

Conversation Seemed To Come Before Him With The Greatest Distinctness.

For A Long Time He Stood There Gazing,  Until He Felt Strong Again In His

Resolve. What Would He Not Have Given To Have Seen Her,  If Only For A

Moment! But He Felt He Could Not Approach The House. He Would Not Allow

Any Other Feeling To Mingle With The Holy Determination With Which His

Thoughts Were Filled,  And With An Heroic Effort He Turned Away,  And Bent

His Steps Towards The Town. His Mind Had Now Regained Its Former Tone.

The Church Was Filled To Overflowing That Sunday On Which Mr. Johnsen

Was To Preach His First Sermon. There Are Always Plenty Of People Who

Are Glad Of The Opportunity Of Hearing A New Preacher,  And This Number

Was Increased By The Interest Which Was Felt In The Earnest Young Man

Who Had Attracted So Much Attention.

Mrs. Garman Sat With Her Daughter In The Family Seat,  In Which Were Also

Fanny And Madeleine. Dean Sparre,  With His Wife And Daughter Barbara,

Were In The Front Row Of The Pew Which Belonged To Them; While Behind

Were Pastor Martens With The Other Miss Sparres; And Behind,  Again,  Mrs.

Rasmussen,  The Chaplain'S Housekeeper.

The Congregation Was So Large That The Voices Swelled As When The

Christmas Hymn Is Sung,  And As The Preacher Wended His Way Towards The

Pulpit,  The Heads Of All The Singers Were Turned As If To Follow Him.

As Johnsen Ascended The Narrow Winding Stair Where No Eye Could See Him,

He Felt A Momentary Weakness,  As If He Must Almost Sink Under His

Burden,  And He Never Afterwards Clearly Remembered How He Had Managed To

Get Up The Last Few Steps Which Led To The Pulpit; But When He At Length

Reached His Place,  And The Hundred Eyes Were Again Fixed On Him,  He

Forced Himself,  With That Energy Which Was Peculiar To Him,  To Conquer

His Feelings. He Looked So Calm That Many People Averred That They Had

Never Seen A Young Clergyman More At Home In The Pulpit.

Johnsen Had Sharp Eyes,  And Could Recognize Many Of The Faces Below Him;

But He Was Conscious Of Rachel'S Presence,  As She Sat Opposite To Him In

The Garmans' Pew,  More By An Instinctive Feeling Than Because He

Actually Saw Her. He Was,  In Fact,  Obliged To Avert His Eyes From Her

Direction,  Lest The Sight Should Unman Him. The Part Of The Church In

Which The Women Sat Was Immediately Under Him,  Just Below The Pulpit,

While The Private Pews Were In a Kind Of Gallery Opposite. As The

Congregation Sang The Last Verse Of The Psalm,  He Gazed Deliberately

Over All The Upturned Eyes. Some Were Piercing,  Some Curious,  Some Pious

And Devotional,  While Some Appeared As Deep And Unfathomable As If He

Were Looking Into Unknown Depths.

After An Introductory Prayer,  He Read His Text In a Clear And Composed

Voice,  After Which He Began A Short And Clear Explanation Of The

Passage. It Was Only In The Last Part Of The Sermon That He Really

Intended To Go Into More Personal Matters,  And The Nearer He Approached

Them The Less Confidence He Seemed To Feel. When He Had Begun His

Sermon,  He Had Fixed His Eyes On A Certain Point,  Which He Sought Every

Time He Lifted His Eyes From His Notes; And This Point,  Although He Had

Not Remarked It At First,  Was Dean Sparre'S Head. The Snowy Hair And The

White Collar Stood Out In The Sharpest Contrast Against The Dark

Background,  And The More The Speaker Gazed At This Noble Face,  The More

He Seemed To Dread The Conclusion. He Was Already Close Upon The Point

Where He Was First To Begin To Speak About Sincerity,  And The Necessity

Of A Perfectly Truthful Existence,  And Although He Could Not Exactly

Tell The Reason,  He Could Not But Feel That The Stirring Discourse He

Had Set Himself To Deliver,  Was But Little In Keeping With That Bright

And Peaceful Smile,  And With That Commanding Countenance So Full Of

Earnestness And Harmony.

His Head Seemed To Go Round,  And Not Another Word Could He Utter. There

Was A Deathlike Stillness In The Church,  As He Wiped His Brow With His

Handkerchief.

But When He Again Raised His Head,