“But I’m not trying to blame it on Kristina — I should have had better sense.”
“No one can hold it against you, of course.”
“I should have known better. It’ll always be on my conscience.”
“You only committed a sin of weakness. The Lord is eager to forgive sins of weakness. God will forgive you, I know it! You can be sure of it, Karl Oskar!”
“God. . forgive. . me. .!”
Karl Oskar Nilsson jumped up so suddenly that his chair turned over and was thrown against the wall. His big nose shot out as if it had been a weapon to use against Ulrika, his eyes glittered and his mouth worked. His last word was a roar, and Ulrika shot up from her chair as fast as he.
“Shall I ask God for forgiveness? Because he took Kristina from me?”
“What’s come over you, man?”
She had never seen such an explosion of anger in Karl Oskar. Ulrika had never let men frighten her, but now she was as frightened as a woman of her sort could be.
“Are you going crazy? I don’t recognize you!”
“You said God will forgive me! It’s he who ought to ask my forgiveness! For he tricked Kristina!”
“God tricked. .? You are crazy, man!”
“Kristina lost her life because she trusted in God. He tricked her!”
“You blaspheme, poor man! You curse the High One!”
“She died and left me alone! God is to blame!”
“Have you lost your mind, Karl Oskar?”
“No — now I’ve got it back again. But I had lost it that time. And now I only listen to my own common sense. .”
“You talk as if you were out of your mind.”
“No! I'll never forgive God for cheating Kristina! Never, as long as I live!”
“But when you die — do you mean to die and not be reconciled to your God?”
He stood with his back to her and did not reply; he had turned toward the wall.
Ulrika had heard him blaspheme and she was frightened. How could a wretched, helpless human being get the notion to turn against the Almighty? Either she had never known who Karl Oskar was or he had changed after losing his wife.
“God will find you too, Nilsson! God will bend you!”
He had suddenly become so alien to her that she used his surname.
He still kept his silence, with his back to her, staring before him as if he had suddenly discovered something remarkable on the bare wall. Ulrika felt perplexed; what had happened to Kristina’s widower? Perhaps he mourned her so inconsolably that she must overlook his behavior. He was a bereft man, a suffering man. Above all, she must console him. It was comforting he needed.
Mrs. Jackson laid her hand on his shoulder, her voice sweet and pleading: “God has taken Kristina home to him. She is in heaven now, as you surely know. .”
“She didn’t want to die. .” he stuttered forth. “She wanted to stay with me and the children.”
“It must be a comfort to you that she’s in eternal bliss.”
“But she wanted to be here with us — she said so many times: I don’t want to die yet!”
When Karl Oskar didn’t show any joy because Kristina was happy in her eternal home in heaven, Ulrika no longer knew what comfort to offer him.
But she went on: He was the most ungrateful person she had ever known. How much didn’t he have to thank God for? All had gone well for him — he was well-to-do and needn’t worry about earthly things. Kristina had borne him many children, all well shaped and healthy. Many parents were given blind, deformed, or feeble-minded offspring. He himself was still in good health and had his strength. The Lord had until now helped him through all life’s vicissitudes. How many times might he not have perished? Indeed, God had held his protecting hand over him! Instead of blaspheming the Almighty he ought to thank and praise him! He ought to go down on his knees, as he had just done while scrubbing the stoop, and thank God in humble submission!
She talked, but no one listened to her. Karl Oskar didn’t hear her. He only stared at the wall. What in the world did he see there? Nothing but the paper — old pink roses, faded, spotted. He stared at the empty wall. He stared as if he saw a vision, as if his ears were plugged up; he stared at nothing.
How could one talk sense to a person who acted like that? Staring at a wall he had seen every day for many years! There was nothing to be done with Karl Oskar; she could do nothing but feel sorry for him. He did not move, he did not hear — it seemed he would remain in that position and stare at the old, spotted, faded wallpaper forever. Yet, perhaps he saw something in the emptiness.
Ulrika silently opened the door and walked out onto the stoop and away.
In this house she left behind today a man who did not wish to submit — a man who hated his God.
XIX. THE LETTER TO SWEDEN
New Duvemåla Settlement at Center City Post
Offis, April 23, 1865.
Dear Sister Lydia Karlsson,
May all be well with you is my daily Wish.
You write at long Intervals but you shall not think I have forgotten my only Sister. I have been sitting a few Evenings now and writing a letter to You.
First I want to tell you that the War is over and the Enemy beaten. The hard-necked Rebels are giving up everywhere. On the Battle Fields all is Stillness and Silence, all soldiers are going back to their homes. 100,000 Dollars has been promised to the one who can catch President Jefferson of the South. Much destruction has taken place but the Union between the States is safe for time to come.
Great Joy was spread here because of all the good News but like turning a Hand it became Sorrow instead. Our greatly beloved President Abraham Lincoln fell from a murderer’s Bullet the 14 April. It happened in the evening when he had gone to view a Theatre in Washington, the message flew like a bolt of lightning over the whole land by the Telegraph. That moment I shall never forget.
I was in Stellwater with a load of potatoes that day. In all places of labor the tools were laid down and each one went to his home. Stores and Houses were draped in black, and many flags on half mast to show the sorrow. Much Lamentation was heard in the streets. Old men cried like Babies.
For here nothing is like in Sweden, people are not ordered to Mourn when the Head of the Nation passes but all happens of free Will. Our President was called the country’s Father and we mourn him like a Father in the Flesh. He fought for the Right of the Poor, He made the Black free from Slavery, unchained their chains. The People had entrusted their government to Him. His portrait hangs in many houses for all to see. A man worthy of Honor is honored in Our Republic.
Father Abe’s murderer is Taken, shot through the head, for he did not wish to be taken in Life. Old Honest Abe will be brought to his home village in Springfield and will be buried there. His Corpse will be brought 1,300 miles and People will meet up and gather along the Whole way to say Farewell.
This might be of small interest to My sister in Sweden, but it has just happened and my mind is full of it. The Indian savages in Minnesota made an uproar and started a cruel war. But afterwards the Indians were told to keep 20 miles away from any house or white settlement. Now we are safe from the reds.
I want to tell you about my family now since Kristina left us. Her death I have not gotten over and don’t think I will in Life. But otherwise all is well with us, I have had good luck in worldy matters, I have now 3 horses and one colt and 10 cows not counting young ones. Last year I fatted 18 Pigs. I sold most of the Pork, but since the war, prices are low. 20 acres of my claim still lies in wilderness but my Sons will help me break it. My six children are all well and full of Life. My oldest daughter takes care of my house, she is 18. And my good boys will be of great help. The youngest goes to school and is learning English fast.