“I’m so glad, Glory Goldie, that you have grown beautiful again,” she said.
For that smile and those words all Glory Goldie’s self-control gave way; she fell upon her knees beside the low bedstead, and wept. It was the first time since her homecoming that she had shed real tears.
“Mother, I don’t know how you can feel toward me as you do!” cried the girl. “It’s all my fault that you are dying, and I’m to blame for father’s death, too.”
Katrina, smiling all the while, moved her hands in a little caress.
“You are so good, mother,” said Glory Goldie through her sobs. “You are so good to me!”
Katrina gripped hard her daughter’s hand and raised herself in bed, to give her final testimony.
“All, that is good in me I have learned from Jan,” she declared. After which she sank back on her pillow and said nothing more that was clear or sensible. The death struggle had begun, and the next morning she passed away.
But all through the final agony Glory Goldie lay weeping on the floor beside her mother’s bed; she wept away her anguish; her fever-dreams; her burden of guilt. There was no end to her tears.
The Burial of the Emperor
It was on the Sunday before Christmas they were to bury Katrina of Ruffluck. Usually on that particular Sabbath the church attendance is very poor, as most people like to put off their churchgoing until the great Holy Day services.
When the few mourners from the Ashdales drove into the pine grove between the church and the town hall, they were astonished. For such crowds of people as were assembled there that Sunday were rarely seen even when the Dean of Bro came to Svartsjö once a year, to preach, or at a church election.
It went without saying that it was not for the purpose of following old Katrina to her grave that everyone to a man turned out. Something else must have brought them there. Possibly some great personage was expected at the church, or maybe some clergyman other than the regular pastor was going to preach, thought the Ashdales folk, who lived in such an out-of-the-way corner that much could happen in the parish without their ever hearing of it.
The mourners drove up to the cleared space behind the town hall, where they stepped down from the wagons. Here, as in the grove, they found throngs of people, but otherwise they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Their astonishment increased, but they felt loath to question anyone as to what was going on; for persons who drive in a funeral procession are expected to keep to themselves and not to enter into conversation with those who have no part in the mourning.
The coffin was removed from the hearse and placed upon two black trestles which had been set up just outside the town hall, where the body and those who had come with it were to remain until the bells began to toll and the pastor and the sexton were ready to go with them to the churchyard.
It was a stormy day. Rain came down in lashing showers and beat against the coffin. One thing was certain: it could never be said that fine weather had brought all these people out.
But that day nobody seemed to mind the rain and wind. People stood quietly and patiently under the open sky without seeking the shelter of either the church or the town hall.
The six pallbearers and others who had gathered around Katrina noticed that there were two trestles there besides those on which her coffin rested. Then there was to be another burial that day. This they had not known of before. Yet no funeral procession could be seen approaching. It was already so late that it should have been at the church by that time.
When it was about ten minutes of ten o’clock and time to be moving toward the churchyard, the Ashdales folk noticed that everyone withdrew in the direction of the Där Nol home, which was only two minutes’ walk from the church. They saw then what they had not observed before, that the path leading from the town hall to the house of Där Nol was strewn with spruce twigs and that a spruce tree had been placed at either side of the gate. Then it was from there a body was to be taken. They wondered why nothing had been said about a death in a family of such prominence. Besides, there were no sheets put up at the windows, as there should be in a house of mourning.
Then, in a moment, the front doors opened and a funeral party emerged. First came August Där Nol, carrying a crêped mace. Behind him walked the six pallbearers with the casket. And now all the people who had been standing outside the church fell into line behind this funeral party. Then it was in order to do honour to this person they had come.
The coffin was carried down to the town hall and placed beside the one already there. August Där Nol arranged the trestles so that the two coffins would rest side by side. The second coffin was not so new and shiny as Katrina’s. It looked as if it had been washed by many rains, and had seen rough handling, for it was both scratched and broken at the edges.
All the folk from the Ashdales suddenly caught their breath. For then they knew it was not a Där Nol that lay in this coffin! And they also knew that it was not for the sake of some stranger of exalted rank that so many people had come out to church. Instantly everyone looked at Glory Goldie, to see whether she understood. It was plain she did.
Glory Goldie,
