Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter III. The Pony.
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melancholy state of mind. Although Christopher read each evening
in his large hymn book, or in his Bible, or Mother Ingierd sung,
with a clear voice:
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
Blessed be the name of the Lord!"
their hearts were, nevertheless, deeply grieved; and Ivar remained
longer than usual in the forest, often not returning until late at
night; for he sat, and gave free vent to his sad thoughts, upon
his pony’s grave.
"What have you on your mind?" said Father Christopher, one
morning, when Ivar took his axe and was about to depart. "It
seems as though something else than grief at the death of the
pony was weighing on your mind."
"I cannot tear the poor animal from my thoughts, for a
better friend I shall never have again: he was much more dear
to me than you think," replied Ivar; with a slight degree of
violence. "But," he added, hesitatingly, "there are other
thoughts also that overcome me when I am sitting alone out
there in the woods, the like of which I have never had before."
"I should think so; but what is it that troubles you?"
"Has it never struck your mind, father, that we are noblemen,
and, at the same time, peasants?"
"No; God be praised, such thoughts have not, as yet, entered
my head," replied Father Christopher, in a tone which proved
clearly that he was in earnest. "It is a long time since we were
peoIple of high rank. Are your thoughts longing for that, Ivar?"
A deeper glow than was usual suffused Ivar’s countenance, as
he slowly and modestly answered, "Take it as you choose, a
nobleman I never wish to become: this I say frankly; but I
feel the desire to leave the plough."
"What dost thou wish to become? a soldier, perhaps! Art
thou desirous for more lashes still?" inquired his father, moodily,
for he believed that his son felt an inclination to become a
soldier.
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