The talk around the fire was suddenly interrupted by Kristina, who was seized by a fit of weeping. This happened unexpectedly and without forewarning. No one had said a word to hurt or upset her. She herself had been silent a long time. She had not joined in their talk about Sweden, but she had listened. Karl Oskar now asked in consternation if she was in pain. But she only shook her head — he mustn’t pay any attention to her. And she continued to cry and sob, she put both her hands to her face and wept without saying why. No one could comfort her, as no one knew what ailed her. They asked many times if she were ilclass="underline" No, she was not ill. .
Karl Oskar felt embarrassed and didn’t know what to say to the guests; but they would understand she was sensitive now. .
“You’re worn out, I guess?” he said kindly.
Danjel patted his niece on the shoulder: “Lie down and rest, Kristina. We too must seek the comfort of our homes.”
“I am acting like a fool. Forgive me, all of you. . ”
Fearing that the guests were departing because of her behavior, Kristina pleaded with them to remain, trying to swallow her sobs: “To blubber like this. . I don’t understand it. Pay no heed to it; it will soon be over.”
But their guests must start on their homeward road to be back before dark. Anders Månsson did not wish to drive the new road after nightfall; he went out and yoked the team to the wagon, while Ulrika washed the dishes and picked up her empty earthen bowl; Jonas Petter left his keg with at least half a quart still splashing in it.
Karl Oskar accompanied his guests a bit of the way, walking up the slope. The housewarming had ended on an unhappy note, too suddenly. And he was worried over Kristina’s peculiar behavior; if she wasn’t sick, she must be crying for some other reason, and this reason she had kept secret from him. He must know what it was, she must tell him what ailed her.
When he returned to the house, Kristina had dried her tears. She began to speak of her own wilclass="underline" “I couldn’t help it, Karl Oskar.”
“I guess not.”
“I assure you, it was nothing. . ”
“One can be sad and weep. But why did you have to weep just this day?”
“It irks me terribly — with all the guests. .”
Karl Oskar wondered if after all she wasn’t a little disappointed with the log house. Had she expected their new home to be different — better and roomier? He tried to comfort her by telling her about the house he intended to build next time: “You wait and see our next house, Kristina! Next housewarming you won’t cry!”
“Karl Oskar — I didn’t cry because of. .”
No, he mustn’t think she shed tears because their house wasn’t fine enough! He mustn’t think she was so ungrateful! That would have been sinful of her. No, the house was good, she had told him she was pleased with their new home. And she hadn’t complained before, when there might have been reason — she hadn’t said a word when they shivered and froze in the shed. Why should she be dissatisfied now when they had moved into a warm, timbered house? No, she had everything she could want, this last year she had learned to be without; before they managed to get under this roof, she had learned to value a home; she had thanked God Who had let them move in here, well and healthy and all of them alive, after the dangers they had gone through.
But she couldn’t help it — something had come over her today, making her cry. Before she knew it the tears had come to her eyes, as if forced out. She didn’t know what it was — she only felt it was overpowering. And she couldn’t tell him how much it disturbed her that this had happened at their housewarming, on that longed-for day when they moved in. .
Karl Oskar was satisfied with her explanation: no wonder she was a little sensitive, unable to keep her tears, the condition she was in. She needed comforting words and he went on talking of their next housewarming: “Just wait and see our next house! Then we’ll be really at home here on Lake Ki-Chi-Saga!”
— 5—
When Kristina went to bed the first evening in the log house, the first time in the new, comfortable bed, with her husband beside her, she remained awake a long while: Had she lied to him today? Didn’t she know what had come over her and made her cry? It had come over her many times before, although never so overpoweringly as today. It used to come when she had nothing to busy herself with, nothing to occupy her mind. Usually it soon passed, but it came back, it always came back. And of course it would come back today, with all the others sitting there talking about it! Indeed, they forced it to come. They sat and reminisced about the old country and the people at home, they made everything come to life so vividly, everything she had given up with a bleeding heart to follow her husband.
Now they were at last settled, now they would stay here forever, at home on Lake Ki-Chi-Saga, as Karl Oskar put it. So strange it sounded, to have her home linked to that name. She was to be at home here for the rest of her life — but she wasn’t at home. This house was her home, but it was so far away. .
Here was away for Kristina — Sweden was home. It ought to be just the opposite: the two places should change position. She had moved, but she could not make the two countries move, the countries lay where they had lain before — one had always to her been away, the other would always remain home.
And she knew for sure now, she had to admit it to herself: in her heart she felt she was still on a journey; she had gone away but hoped one day to return.
Home—to Kristina, this encompassed all that she was never to see again.
XVII. GUESTS IN THE LOG HOUSE
— 1—
The settlers at Lake Gennesaret had moved into their log house a few weeks before their countrymen on Lake Ki-Chi-Saga. Jonas Petter would build his house next summer, and in the meantime he lived with Danjel. He had begun to fell timbers to let them season for his building, and Robert helped him with the felling; he was doing exchange work for his brother. To avoid the hour-long walk from Ki-Chi-Saga and back, he stayed in Danjel’s house during the week and went home only Saturdays.
One Saturday afternoon Robert arrived at his brother’s settlement leading a cow behind him with one of Karl Oskar’s linden-fiber ropes. He tied the cow to the sugar maple at the door and called Kristina.
She came out, looked at the cow, and rubbed her eyes. “What kind of creature is that? Did you run across a stray cow in the forest?”
“No. I’ve led her from Taylors Falls.”
Kristina inspected the animal more closely: It was one of Anders Månsson’s cows, the one that wouldn’t get with calf, which he intended to butcher.
Karl Oskar also came out and stood there by Kristina laughing to himself: Was she surprised? She could thank Fina-Kajsa for this, the old woman had suggested lending her son’s cow for the winter; the cow had once more been taken to German Fischer’s bull in Taylors Falls, and as it now appeared she was with calf, it would be a shame to butcher her. Anders Månsson and his mother had enough milk from the other cow, and as Karl Oskar had gathered plenty of hay to feed her, he could keep her through the winter; he was to bring her back to the owner at calving time next spring. The cow still gave a couple of quarts of milk a day and would not go dry for several months.
“The animal is old, of course,” he concluded.