Ay, his mother bore all these things in mind.
But his father, never understanding it all in the least, opened her eyes and ears one day and said:
“Look you here. Here’s all that is left of the money from that mine.”
“That’s all?” said she. “And what’s come of the rest?”
“Eleseus, he’s had the rest.”
And she clasped her hands at that and declared it was time Eleseus began to use his wits.
Poor Eleseus, all set on end and frittered away. Better, maybe, if he’d worked on the land all the time, but now he’s a man that has learned to write and use letters; no grip in him, no depth. For all that, no pitch-black devil of a man, not in love, not ambitious, hardly nothing at all is Eleseus, not even a bad thing of any great dimensions.
Something unfortunate, ill-fated about this young man, as if something were rotting him from within. That engineer from the town, good man—better perhaps, if he had not discovered the lad in his youth and taken him up to make something out of him; the child had lost his roothold, and suffered thereby. All that he turns to now leads back to something wanting in him, something dark against the light. …
Eleseus goes on and on. The two in the cart ahead pass by Storborg. Eleseus goes a long way round, and he too passes by; what was he to do there, at home, at his trading station and store? The two in the cart get to Sellanraa at nightfall; Eleseus is close at their heels. Sees Sivert come out in the yard, all surprised to see Jensine, and the two shake hands and laugh a little; then Sivert takes the horse out and leads it to stable.
Eleseus ventures forward; the pride of the family, he ventures up a little. Not walking up, but stealing up; he comes on Sivert in the stable. “ ’Tis only me,” he says.
“What—you too?” says Sivert, all astonished again.
The two brothers begin talking quietly; about Sivert getting his mother to find some money; a last resource, the money for a journey. Things can’t go on this way; Eleseus is weary of it; has been thinking of it a long time now, and he must go tonight; a long journey, to America, and start tonight.
“America?” says Sivert out loud.
“Sh! I’ve been thinking of it a long time, and you must get her to do as I say; it can’t go on like this, and I’ve been thinking of going forever so long.”
“But America!” says Sivert. “No, don’t you do it.”
“I’m going. I’ve settled that. Going back now to catch the boat.”
“But you must have something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But rest a bit, then?”
“No.”
Sivert is trying to act for the best, and hold his brother back, but Eleseus is determined, ay, for once he is determined. Sivert himself is all taken aback; first of all it was a surprise to see Jensine again, and now here’s Eleseus going to leave the place altogether, not to say the world. “What about Storborg?” says he. “What’ll you do with it?”
“Andresen can have it,” says Sivert.
“Andresen have it? How d’you mean?”
“Isn’t he going to have Leopoldine?”
“Don’t know about that. Ay; perhaps he is.”
They talk quietly, keep on talking. Sivert thinks it would be best if his father came out and Eleseus could talk to him himself; but “No, no!” whispers Eleseus again; he was never much of a man to face a thing like that, but always must have a go-between.
Says Sivert: “Well, mother, you know how ’tis with her. There’ll be no getting any way with her for crying and talking on. She mustn’t know.”
“No,” Eleseus agrees, “she mustn’t know.”
Sivert goes off, stays away for ages, and comes back with money, a heap of money. “Here, that’s all he has; think it’ll be enough? Count—he didn’t count how much there was.”
“What did he say—father?”
“Nay, he didn’t say much. Now you must wait a little, and I’ll get some more clothes on and go down with you.”
“ ’Tis not worth while; you go and lie down.”
“Ho, are you frightened of the dark that I mustn’t go away?” says Sivert, trying a moment to be cheerful.
He is away a moment, and comes back dressed, and with his father’s food basket over his shoulder. As they go out, there is their father standing outside. “So you’re going all that way, seems?” says Isak.
“Ay,” answered Eleseus; “but I’ll be coming back again.”
“I’ll not be keeping you now—there’s little time,” mumbles the old man, and turns away. “Good luck,” he croaks out in a strange voice, and goes off all hurriedly.
The two brothers walk down the road; a little way gone, they sit down to eat; Eleseus is hungry, can hardly eat enough. ’Tis a fine spring night, and the black grouse at play on the hilltops; the homely sound makes the emigrant lose courage for a moment. “ ’Tis a fine night,” says he. “You better turn back now, Sivert,” says he.
“H’m,” says Sivert, and goes on with him.
They pass by Storborg, by Breidablik, and the sound follows them all the way from the hills here and there; ’tis no military music like in the towns, nay, but voices—a proclamation: Spring has come. Then suddenly the first chirp of a bird is heard from a treetop, waking others, and a calling and answering on every side; more than a song, it is a hymn of praise. The emigrant feels homesick already, maybe, something weak and helpless in him; he is going off to America, and none could be more fitted to go
