Short Fiction by Selma Lagerlöf (android based ebook reader txt) 📕

there was much talk about the good chance he stood of being the prospective son-in-law of this estate. That the courtship had been successful all were assured at Christmas. Then the Juryman, with his wife and daughter, came over to Närlunda, and it was evident that they had come there to see how Hildur would fare if she married Gudmund.

This was the first time that Helga saw, at close range, her whom Gudmund was to marry. Hildur Ericsdotter was not yet twenty, but the marked thing about her was that no one could look at her without thinking what a handsome and dignified mistress she would be some day. She was tall and well built, fair and pretty, and apparently liked to have many about her to look after. She was never timid; she talked much and seemed to know everything better than the one with whom she was talking. She had attended school in the city for a couple of years and wore the prettiest frocks Helga had ever seen, but yet she didn’t impress one as being showy or vain. Rich and beautiful as she was, she might have married a gentleman at any time, but she always declared that she did not wish to be a fine lady and sit with folded hands. She wanted to marry a farmer and look after her own house, like a real farmer’s wife.

Helga thought Hildur a perfect wonder. Never had she seen anyone who made such a superb appearance. Nor had she ever dreamed that a person could be so nearly perfect in every particular. To her it seemed a great joy that in the near future she was to serve such a mistress.

Everything had gone off well during the Juryman’s visit. But whenever Helga looked back upon that day, she experienced a certain unrest. It seems that when the visitors had arrived, she had gone around and served coffee. When she came in with the tray, the Juryman’s wife leaned forward and asked her mistress if she was not the girl from the marsh croft. She did not lower her voice much, and Helga had distinctly heard the question.

Mother Ingeborg answered yes, and then the other had said something which Helga couldn’t hear. But it was to the effect that she thought it singular they wanted a person of that sort in the house. This caused Helga many anxious moments. She tried to console herself with the thought that it was not Hildur, but her mother, who had said this.

One Sunday in the early spring Helga and Gudmund walked home together from church. As they came down the slope, they were with the other church people; but soon one after another dropped off until, finally, Helga and Gudmund were alone.

Then Gudmund happened to think that he had not been alone with Helga since that night at the croft, and the memory of that night came forcibly back to him. He had thought of their first meeting often enough during the winter, and with it he had always felt something sweet and pleasant thrill through his senses. As he went about his work, he would call forth in thought that whole beautiful evening: the white mist, the bright moonlight, the dark forest heights, the light valley, and the girl who had thrown her arms round his neck and wept for joy. The whole incident became more beautiful each time that it recurred to his memory. But when Gudmund saw Helga going about among the others at home, toiling and slaving, it was hard for him to think that it was she who had shared in this. Now that he was walking alone with her on the church slope, he couldn’t help wishing for a moment that she would be the same girl she was on that evening.

Helga began immediately to speak of Hildur. She praised her much: said she was the prettiest and most sensible girl in the whole parish, and congratulated Gudmund because he would have such an excellent wife. “You must tell her to let me remain always at Närlunda,” she said. “It will be a pleasure to work for a mistress like her.”

Gudmund smiled at her enthusiasm, but answered only in monosyllables, as though he did not exactly follow her. It was well, of course, that she was so fond of Hildur, and so happy because he was going to be married.

“You have been content to be with us this winter?” he asked.

“Indeed I have! I cannot begin to tell you how kind mother Ingeborg and all of you have been to me!”

“Have you not been homesick for the forest?”

“Oh, yes, in the beginning, but not now any more.”

“I thought that one who belonged to the forest could not help yearning for it.”

Helga turned half round and looked at him, who walked on the other side of the road. Gudmund had become almost a stranger to her; but now there was something in his voice, his smile, that was familiar. Yes, he was the same man who had come to her and saved her in her greatest distress. Although he was to marry another, she was certain that he wanted to be a good friend to her, and a faithful helper.

She was very happy to feel that she could confide in him, as in none other, and thought that she must tell him of all that had happened to her since they last talked together. “I must tell you that it was rather hard for me the first weeks at Närlunda,” she began. “But you mustn’t speak of this to your mother.”

“If you want me to be silent, I’ll be silent.”

“Fancy! I was so homesick in the beginning that I was about to go back to the forest.”

“Were you homesick? I thought you were glad to be with us.”

“I simply could not help it,” she said apologetically. “I understood, of course, how well it was for me to be here; you were all so good to me,