And then the autumn moon rose above the forest in the west.
“It really is wonderfully fine,” whispered Herman, fascinated by the romance of this desolate wilderness.
“Yes, it is almost like the Alps,” answered Laura, and groped for him that she might feel him tremble with jealous love. But as soon as she had said it she trembled herself. Yes, she was playing a dangerous game up there among the rough boulders of Old Hök’s overgrown stony wilderness. Laura suddenly felt love clutching her heart with burning fingers. For a moment she gave herself up to this new and painful sensation, but then she became frightened, with the violent fear of a threatened egoism. She jumped up and pushed him away from her:
“No, now I must go home.”
But Herman insisted:
“No, we must go up to Enoch’s gorge,” he panted. “It is haunted, and up to the old quarrymen’s shed.”
His voice had never sounded so near her, so strangely near. She followed him against her will.
Enoch’s gorge was a perpendicular precipitous gully, blasted out of the rock. They held each others’ hands and crept up to the edge with their heads swimming. It was dark down below. Fancy if he pulls me down! the thought flashed through Laura’s head, and she suddenly tore her hand out of his.
Then they came to the shed. There were stones in front of the door, but Herman rolled them away. Inside something lay on a couple of overturned empty boxes. In the light of a match they saw a few books, a heap of strange stones, shells and horses’ teeth, a dried-up lizard and a broken bottle with fish spawn, by the side of a half-eaten piece of bread and butter.
Then somebody stood in the doorway. It was Tord. He looked unusually tall in the twilight. In spite of his sixteen years he was dressed in breeches and an outgrown sailor blouse, his long wrists sticking out from the sleeves. He stood quite still and stared at the invaders with an expression of fear and anger. And between his legs the fox thrust out his pointed nose and his bright eyes and sniffed. He had only three legs, poor thing, the fourth had been caught in the trap.
“What are you doing here?” growled Tord at last in a thick voice.
Herman and Laura were embarrassed to have been taken unawares and in their haste resorted to jeers.
Laura pushed some beetles on to Tord’s bread and butter.
“Here you are! a beetle sandwich!”
Tord turned pale. This was his refuge, his peaceful retreat. Here he had all his trophies from Träskängen, his lonely and glorious hunting ground for frog spawn, lizards, divers, birds’ eggs and bats—and now his poor secrets were captured by intruders. He stood there swinging his long bare arms. He gave one the impression of a dumb captive creature like the fox beside him. It was as if he could only express his feelings by a shriek. But now he clenched his fist and his face twitched with sudden and violent anger.
“Go away,” he cried. “Get away. This is my place.”
“All right, we are going.”
Laura dragged Herman with her. In the bushes beside them they heard the flop of a stone that Tord had cast after them. And then he called out something coarse after them, one of those impossible, foul expressions of impotent boyhood. Herman wanted to rush back and thrash him, but Laura stamped her foot on the ground and commanded him to take her home at once. She was suddenly short, cold, and offended, just as if Herman had injured her.
“You are silly,” she snapped. “What business had we up in that stupid quarry? Tell me what business we had there!”
In reality Laura was not in the least angry. She was afraid, and she sought relief for her fear in scolding him. Love had touched the egoism of her heart with a burning finger, and she felt restless in the twilight. That was the reason why she was so anxious to get home.
Poor Herman got no benefit from his kiss that evening. And there were no more kisses before her departure. Laura had suddenly grown careful, prim and full of moral qualms. Only at the very last, when her ticket was bought and the retreat clear did she recover some of her old amiability and mischief, and deigned graciously to cajole his heart out of his breast so as to have something to show to the other schoolgirls.
Now she was already standing on the step of the railway carriage with Elvira Lähnfeldt and Manne and his mother who were also travelling south. Cheerfully and with perfect ease she chatted to everybody. She was radiantly happy and her happiness made her beautiful. How could she be so happy when Herman was standing there with a void in his breast?
The train started. Her handkerchief was lost in the enveloping white steam.
On the way back to Ekbacken, Herman instinctively joined Stellan. With him the air seemed less oppressive and it seemed that something of Laura remained after all.
Stellan had not been very often at Ekbacken lately. And if he came it was to scold Laura, who was always there. Sisters are a doubtful blessing when they begin to take your friends away from you.
No, nowadays, Stellan went mostly to Manne at Kolsnäs. He had nobody else to turn to, because Percy was away in Jämtland for the summer on account of his chest. And Stonehill had been sold. Lake Mälare was beginning to be unfashionable and nice people moved out to sea. And then the town was creeping nearer, and it seemed to make the whole landscape look poor and ugly. They were already laying the foundation of a factory close to Stonehill. In those few years the fine place had already begun to look insignificant
