tales from two hemispheres[1].(两个半球的故事)-第19章
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dream。 For her fevered fancy had in these last days frequently beguiled
her into similar visions。 She often thought of him； but； strangely enough；
no more with bitterness； but with pity。 Had he been strong enough to be
wicked； she could have hated him； but he was weak； and she pitied him。
Then it was that； one evening； as she heard that the American vessel was
to sail at daybreak； she took her little boy and wrapped him carefully in
her own clothes； bade farewell to the good fisherman and his wife； and
walked alone down to the strand。 Huge clouds of fantastic shapes chased
each other desperately along the horizon； and now and then the slender
new moon glanced forth from the deep blue gulfs between。 She chose a
boat at random and was about to unmoor it； when she saw the figure of a
man tread carefully over the stones and hesitatingly approach her。
〃Brita；〃 came in a whisper from the strand。
〃Who's there？〃
〃It is I。 Father knows it all； and he has nearly killed me； and mother；
too。〃
〃Is that what you have come to tell me？〃
〃No； I would like to help you some。 I have been trying to see you
these many days。〃 And he stepped close up to the boat。
〃Thank you； I need no help。〃
〃But； Brita；〃 implored he； 〃I have sold my gun and my dog； and
everything I had； and this is what I have got for it。〃 He stretched out his
hand and reached her a red handkerchief with something heavy bound up
in a corner。 She took it mechanically； held it in her hand for a moment；
then flung it far out into the water。 A smile of profound contempt and
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
pity passed over her countenance。
〃Farewell； Halvard；〃 said she； calmly； and pushed the boat into the
water。
〃But； Brita；〃 cried he； in despair； 〃what would you have me do？〃
She lifted the child in her arms； then pointed to the vacant seat at her
side。 He understood what she meant； and stood for a moment wavering。
Suddenly； he covered his face with his hands and burst into tears。 Within
half an hour； Brita boarded the vessel； and as the first red stripe of the
dawn illumined the horizon； the wind filled the sails； and the ship glided
westward toward that land where there is a home for them whom love and
misfortune have exiled。
It was a long and wearisome voyage。 There was an old English
clergyman on board； who collected curiosities； to him she sold her rings
and brooches； and thereby obtained more than sufficient money to pay her
passage。 She hardly spoke to any one except her child。 Those of her
fellow…parishioners who knew her； and perhaps guessed her history； kept
aloof from her； and she was grateful to them that they did。 From
morning till night； she sat in a corner between a pile of deck freight and
the kitchen skylight； and gazed at her little boy who was lying in her lap。
All her hopes； her future； and her life were in him。 For herself； she had
ceased to hope。
〃I can give thee no fatherland； my child；〃 she said to him。 〃Thou
shalt never know the name of him who gave thee life。 Thou and I； we
shall struggle together； and； as true as there is a God above； who sees us；
He will not leave either of us to perish。 But let us ask no questions； child；
about that which is past。 Thou shalt grow and be strong； and thy mother
must grow with thee。〃
During the third week of the voyage； the English clergyman baptized
the boy； and she called him Thomas； after the day in the almanac on which
he was born。 He should never know that Norway had been his mother's
home； therefore she would give him no name which might betray his race。
One morning； early in the month of June； they hailed land； and the great
New World lay before them。
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
III。
Why should I speak of the ceaseless care； the suffering； and the hard
toil； which made the first few months of Brita's life on this continent a
mere continued struggle for existence？ They are familiar to every
emigrant who has come here with a brave heart and an empty purse。
Suffice it to say that at the end of the second month； she succeeded in
obtaining service as milkmaid with a family in the neighborhood of New
York。 With the linguistic talent peculiar to her people； she soon learned
the English language and even spoke it well。 From her countrymen； she
kept as far away as possible； not for her own sake； but for that of her boy；
for he was to grow great and strong； and the knowledge of his birth might
shatter his strength and break his courage。 For the same reason she also
exchanged her picturesque Norse costume for that of the people among
whom she was living。 She went commonly by the name of Mrs。 Brita；
which pronounced in the English way； sounded very much like Mrs。
Bright； and this at last became the name by which she was known in the
neighborhood。
Thus five years passed； then there was a great rage for emigrating to
the far West； and Brita； with many others； started for Chicago。 There she
arrived in the year 1852； and took up her lodgings with an Irish widow；
who was living in a little cottage in what was then termed the outskirts of
the city。 Those who saw her in those days； going about the lumber…yards
and doing a man's work； would hardly have recognized in her the merry
Glitter…Brita； who in times of old trod the spring…dance so gayly in the
well…lighted halls of the Blakstad mansion。 And； indeed； she was sadly
changed！ Her features had become sharper； and the firm lines about her
mouth expressed severity； almost sternness。 Her clear blue eyes seemed
to have grown larger； and their glance betrayed secret； ever…watchful care。
Only her yellow hair had resisted the force of time and sorrow； for it still
fell in rich and wavy folds over a smooth white forehead。 She was；
indeed； half ashamed of it； and often took pains to force it into a sober；
matronly hood。 Only at nights； when she sat alone talking with her boy；
she would allow it to escape from its prison； and he would laugh and play
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with it； and in his child's way even wonder at the contrast between her
stern face and her youthful maidenly tresses。
This Thomas； her son； was a strange child。 He had a Norseman's
taste for the fabulous and fantastic； and although he never heard a tale of
Necken or the Hulder； he would often startle his mother by the most
fanciful combinations of imagined events； and by bolder personifications
than ever sprung from the legendary soil of the Norseland。 She always
took care to check him whenever he indulged in these imaginary flights；
and he at last came to look upon them as something wrong and sinful。
The boy； as he grew up； often strikingly reminded her of her fath
