Ticket No. 9672 (3 page)

Whether or not Harald had made a fortune in the business, no one
was able to say; but he had been able to rear his son Joel and his
daughter Hulda in comfort; and Ole Kamp, a son of his wife's sister,
had also been brought up like one of his own children. But for his
uncle Harald, this orphan child would doubtless have been one of those
poor creatures who come into the world only to leave it; and Ole
Kamp evinced a truly filial devotion toward his parents by adoption.
Nothing would ever sever the tie that bound him to the Hansen family,
to which his marriage with Hulda was about to bind him still more
closely.

Harald Hansen had died about eighteen months before, leaving his
wife, in addition to the inn, a small farm on the mountain, a piece
of property which yielded very meager returns, if any. This was
especially true of late, for the seasons had been remarkably
unpropitious, and agriculture of every kind had suffered greatly,
even the pastures. There had been many of those "iron nights," as the
Norwegian peasants call them—nights of north-easterly gales and ice
that kill the corn down to the very root—and that meant ruin to the
farmers of the Telemark and the Hardanger.

Still, whatever Dame Hansen might think of the situation of affairs,
she had never said a word to any living soul, not even to her
children. Naturally cold and reserved, she was very uncommunicative—a
fact that pained Hulda and Joel not a little. But with that respect
for the head of the family innate in Northern lands, they made no
attempt to break down a reserve which was eminently distasteful to
them. Besides, Dame Hansen never asked aid or counsel, being firmly
convinced of the infallibility of her own judgment, for she was a true
Norwegian in that respect.

Dame Hansen was now about fifty years old. Advancing age had not bowed
her tall form, though it had whitened her hair; nor had it dimmed the
brightness of her dark-blue eyes, whose azure was reflected in the
clear orbs of her daughter; but her complexion had taken on the yellow
hue of old parchment, and a few wrinkles were beginning to furrow her
forehead.

The madame, as they say in Scandinavia, was invariably attired in a
full black skirt, for she had never laid aside her mourning since her
husband's death. Below the shoulder-straps of a brown bodice appeared
the long full sleeves of an unbleached cotton chemise. On her
shoulders she wore a small dark-colored fichu that crossed upon her
breast, which was also covered by the large bib of her apron. She
always wore as a head-dress a close-fitting black-silk cap that
covered almost her entire head, and tied behind, a kind of head-dress
that is rarely seen nowadays.

Seated stiffly erect in her wooden arm-chair, the grave hostess
neglected her spinning-wheel only to enjoy a small birchwood pipe,
whose smoke enveloped her in a faint cloud.

Really, the house would have seemed very gloomy had it not been for
the presence of the two children.

A worthy lad was Joel Hansen. Twenty-five years of age, well built,
tall, like all Norwegian mountaineers, proud in bearing, though not
in the least boastful or conceited. He had fine hair, verging upon
chestnut, with blue eyes so dark as to seem almost black. His garb
displayed to admirable advantage his powerful shoulders, his broad
chest, in which his lungs had full play, and stalwart limbs which
never failed him even in the most difficult mountain ascents. His
dark-blue jacket, fitting tightly at the waist, was adorned on the
shoulders with epaulets, and in the back with designs in colored
embroidery similar to those that embellish the vests of the Breton
peasantry. His yellow breeches were fastened at the knee by large
buckles. Upon his head he wore a broad-brimmed brown hat with a
red-and-black band, and his legs were usually incased either in coarse
cloth gaiters or in long stout boots without heels.

His vocation was that of a mountain guide in the district of the
Telemark, and even in the Hardanger. Always ready to start, and
untiring in his exertions, he was a worthy descendant of the Norwegian
hero Rollo, the walker, celebrated in the legends of that country.
Between times he accompanied English sportsmen who repair to that
region to shoot the riper, a species of ptarmigan, larger than that
found in the Hebrides, and the jerpir, a partridge much more delicate
in its flavor than the grouse of Scotland. When winter came, the
hunting of wolves engrossed his attention, for at that season of the
year these fierce animals, emboldened by hunger, not unfrequently
venture out upon the surface of the frozen lake. Then there was bear
hunting in summer, when that animal, accompanied by her young, comes
to secure its feast of fresh grass, and when one must pursue it over
plateaus at an altitude of from ten to twelve thousand feet. More than
once Joel had owed his life solely to the great strength that enabled
him to endure the embraces of these formidable animals, and to the
imperturbable coolness which enabled him to eventually dispatch them.

But when there was neither tourist nor hunter to be guided through the
valley of the Vesfjorddal, Joel devoted his attention to the
soetur
,
the little mountain farm where a young shepherd kept guard over half
a dozen cows and about thirty sheep—a
soetur
consisting exclusively
of pasture land.

Joel, being naturally very pleasant and obliging, was known and loved
in every village in the Telemark; but two persons for whom he felt a
boundless affection were his cousin Ole and his sister Hulda.

When Ole Kamp left Dal to embark for the last time, how deeply Joel
regretted his inability to dower Hulda and thus avert the necessity
for her lover's departure! In fact, if he had been accustomed to the
sea, he would certainly have gone in his cousin's place. But money was
needed to start them in housekeeping, and as Dame Hansen had offered
no assistance, Joel understood only too well that she did not feel
inclined to devote any portion of the estate to that purpose, so there
was nothing for Ole to do but cross the broad Atlantic.

Joel had accompanied him to the extreme end of the valley on his way
to Bergen, and there, after a long embrace, he wished him a pleasant
journey and a speedy return, and then returned to console his sister,
whom he loved with an affection which was at the same time fraternal
and paternal in its character.

Hulda at that time was exactly eighteen years of age. She was not the
piga
, as the servant in a Norwegian inn is called, but rather the
froken
, the young lady of the house, as her mother was the madame.
What a charming face was hers, framed in a wealth of pale golden hair,
under a thin linen cap projecting in the back to give room for the
long plaits of hair! What a lovely form incased in this tightly
fitting bodice of red stuff, ornamented with green shoulder-straps and
surmounted by a snowy chemisette, the sleeves of which were fastened
at the wrist by a ribbon bracelet! What grace and perfect symmetry
in the waist, encircled by a red belt with clasps of silver filigree
which held in place the dark-green skirt, below which appeared the
white stocking protected by the dainty pointed toed shoe of the
Telemark!

Yes, Ole's betrothed was certainly charming, with the slightly
melancholy expression of the daughters of the North softening her
smiling face; and on seeing her one instantly thought of Hulda the
Fair, whose name she bore, and who figures as the household fairy in
Scandinavian mythology.

Nor did the reserve of a chaste and modest maiden mar the grace with
which she welcomed the guests who came to the inn. She was well
known to the world of tourists; and it was not one of the smallest
attractions of the inn to be greeted by that cordial shake of the
hand that Hulda bestowed on one and all. And after having said to her,
"
Tack for mad
" (Thanks for the meal), what could be more delightful
than to hear her reply in her fresh sonorous voice: "
Wed bekomme
!"
(May it do you good!)

Ole Kamp had been absent a year; and as he said in his letter, his
winter's experience on the fishing banks of Newfoundland had been
a severe one. When one makes money there one richly earns it. The
equinoctial storms that rage there not unfrequently destroy a whole
fishing fleet in a few hours; but fish abound, and vessels which
escape find ample compensation for the toil and dangers of this home
of the tempest.

Besides, Norwegians are excellent seamen, and shrink from no danger.
In the numberless fiords that extend from Christiansand to Cape North,
among the dangerous reefs of Finland, and in the channels of the
Loffoden Islands, opportunities to familiarize themselves with the
perils of ocean are not wanting; and from time immemorial they have
given abundant proofs of their courage. Their ancestors were intrepid
mariners at an epoch when the Hanse monopolized the commerce of
northern Europe. Possibly they were a trifle prone to indulge in
piracy in days gone by, but piracy was then quite common. Doubtless
commerce has reformed since then, though one may perhaps be pardoned
for thinking that there is still room for improvement.

However that may be, the Norwegians were certainly fearless seamen;
they are to-day, and so they will ever be. Ole Kamp was not the man to
belie his origin; besides, he had served his apprenticeship under his
father, who was the master of a Bergen coasting vessel. His childhood
had been spent in that port, which is one of the most frequented in
Scandinavia. Before he ventured out upon the open sea he had been an
untiring fisher in the fiords, and a fearless robber of the sea-birds'
nests, and when he became old enough to serve as cabin-boy he made a
voyage across the North Sea and even to the waters of the Polar Ocean.

Soon afterward his father died, and as he had lost his mother several
years before, his uncle Harald Hansen invited him to become a member
of his family, which he did, though he continued to follow the same
calling.

In the intervals between his voyages he invariably spent his time with
the friends he loved; but he made regular voyages upon large fishing
vessels, and rose to the rank of mate when he was but twenty-one. He
was now twenty-three years of age.

When he visited Dal, Joel found him a most congenial companion. He
accompanied him on his excursions to the mountains, and across the
highest table-lands of the Telemark. The young sailor seemed as much
at home in the fields as in the fiords, and never lagged behind unless
it was to keep his cousin Hulda company.

A close friendship gradually sprung up between Joel and Ole, and quite
naturally the same sentiment assumed a different form in respect to
the young girl. Joel, of course, encouraged it. Where would his sister
ever find a better fellow, a more sympathetic nature, a warmer and
more devoted heart? With Ole for a husband, Hulda's happiness was
assured. So it was with the entire approval of her mother and brother
that the young girl followed the natural promptings of her heart.
Though these people of the North are undemonstrative, they must not
be accused of a want of sensibility. No! It is only their way; and
perhaps their way is as good as any other, after all.

So it came to pass that one day, when all four of them were sitting
quietly together, Ole remarked, without any preamble whatever:

"An idea occurs to me, Hulda."

"What is it?"

"It seems to me that we ought to marry."

"I think so too."

"And so do I," added Dame Hansen as coolly as if the matter had been
under discussion for some time.

"I agree with you," remarked Joel, "and in that case I shall naturally
become your brother-in-law."

"Yes," said Ole; "but it is probable that I shall only love you the
better for it."

"That is very possible."

"We have your consent, then?"

"Upon my word! nothing would please me better," replied Joel.

"So it is decided, Hulda?" inquired Dame Hansen.

"Yes, mother," replied the girl, quietly.

"You are really willing?" asked Ole. "I have loved you a long time,
Hulda, without saying so."

"And I you, Ole."

"How it came about, I really do not know."

"Nor I."

"But it was doubtless seeing you grow more beautiful and good day by
day."

"That is saying a little too much, my dear Ole."

"No; I certainly ought to be able to say that without making you
blush, for it is only the truth. Didn't you see that I was beginning
to love Hulda, Dame Hansen?"

"I suspected as much."

"And you, Joel?"

"I was sure of it."

"Then I certainly think that you ought to have warned me," said Ole,
smiling.

"But how about your voyages, Ole?" inquired Dame Hansen. "Won't they
seem intolerable to you after you are married?"

"So intolerable that I shall not follow the sea any more after my
marriage."

"You will not go to sea any more?"

"No, Hulda. Do you think it would be possible for me to leave you for
months at a time?"

"So this is to be your last voyage?"

"Yes, and if we have tolerable luck, this voyage will yield me quite
a snug little sum of money, for Help Bros. have promised me a share in
the profits."

"They are good men," remarked Joel.

"The best men living," replied Ole, "and well known and highly
respected by all the sailors of Bergen."

"But what do you expect to do after you cease to follow the sea, my
dear Ole?" inquired Hulda.

"I shall go into partnership with Joel in his business, I have pretty
good legs, and if they are not good enough, I will improve them by
going into regular training. Besides, I have thought of a plan which
will not prove a bad one perhaps. Why can't we establish a messenger
service between Drammen, Kongsberg and a few other towns in the
Telemark Communication now is neither easy nor regular, and there
might be money in the scheme. Besides, I have other plans, to say
nothing of—"