A Happy Boy by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (electronic book reader TXT) 📖

but still stared constantly at her.

Now came the school-master. All left their places and stormed about him.

"What number am I?"--"And I?"--"And I--I?"

"Hush! you overgrown young ones! No uproar here! Be quiet and you shall hear about it, children." He looked slowly around. "You are number two," said he to a boy with blue eyes, who was gazing up at him most beseechingly; and the boy danced out of the circle. "You are number three," he tapped a red-haired, active little fellow who stood tugging at his jacket. "You are number five; you number eight," and so on. Here he caught sight of Marit. "You are number one of the girls,"--she blushed crimson over face and neck, but tried to smile. "You are number twelve; you have been lazy, you rogue, and full of mischief; you number eleven, nothing better to be expected, my boy; you, number thirteen, must study hard and come to the next examination, or it will go badly with you!"

Oyvind could bear it no longer; number one, to be sure, had not been mentioned, but he had been standing all the time so that the school-master could see him.

"School-master!" He did not hear. "School-master!" Oyvind had to repeat this three times before it was heard. At last the school-master looked at him.

"Number nine or ten, I do not remember which," said he, and turned to another.

"Who is number one, then?" inquired Hans, who was Oyvind's best friend.

"It is not you, curly-head!" said the school-master, rapping him over the hand with a roll of paper.

"Who is it, then?" asked others. "Who is it? Yes; who is it?"

"He will find that out who has the number," replied the school-master, sternly. He would have no more questions. "Now go home nicely, children. Give thanks to your God and gladden your parents. Thank your old school-master too; you would have been in a pretty fix if it had not been for him."

They thanked him, laughed, and went their way jubilantly, for at this moment when they were about to go home to their parents they all felt happy. Only one remained behind, who could not at once find his books, and who when he had found them sat down as if he must read them over again.

The school-master went up to him.

"Well, Oyvind, are you not going with the rest?"

There was no reply.

"Why do you open your books?"

"I want to find out what I answered wrong to-day."

"You answered nothing wrong."

Then Oyvind looked at him; tears filled his eyes, but he gazed intently at the school-master, while one by one trickled down his cheeks, and not a word did he say. The school-master sat down in front of him.

"Are you not glad that you passed?"

There was a quivering about the lips but no reply.

"Your mother and father will be very glad," said the school-master, and looked at Oyvind.

The boy struggled hard to gain power of utterance, finally he asked in low, broken tones,--

"Is it--because I--am a houseman's son that I only stand number nine or ten?"

"No doubt that was it," replied the school-master.

"Then it is of no use for me to work," said Oyvind, drearily, and all his bright dreams vanished. Suddenly he raised his head, lifted his right hand, and bringing it down on the table with all his might, flung himself forward on his face and burst into passionate tears.

The school-master let him lie and weep,--weep as long as he would. It lasted a long time, but the school-master waited until the weeping grew more childlike. Then taking Oyvind's head in both hands, he raised it and gazed into the tear-stained face.

"Do you believe that it is God who has been with you now," said he, drawing the boy affectionately toward him.

Oyvind was still sobbing, but not so violently as before; his tears flowed more calmly, but he neither dared look at him who questioned nor answer.

"This, Oyvind, has been a well-merited recompense. You have not studied from love of your religion, or of your parents; you have studied from vanity."

There was silence in the room after every sentence the school-master uttered. Oyvind felt his gaze resting on him, and he melted and grew humble under it.

"With such wrath in your heart, you could not have come forward to make a covenant with your God. Do you think you could, Oyvind?"

"No," the boy stammered, as well as he was able.

"And if you stood there with vain joy, over being number one, would you not be coming forward with a sin?"

"Yes, I should," whispered Oyvind, and his lips quivered.

"You still love me, Oyvind?"

"Yes;" here he looked up for the first time.

"Then I will tell you that it was I who had you put down; for I am very fond of you, Oyvind."

The other looked at him, blinked several times, and the tears rolled down in rapid succession.

"You are not displeased with me for that?"

"No;" he looked up full in the school-master's face, although his voice was choked.

"My dear child, I will stand by you as long as I live."

The school-master waited for Oyvind until the latter had gathered together his books, then said that he would accompany him home. They walked slowly along. At first Oyvind was silent and his struggle went on, but gradually he gained his self-control. He was convinced that what had occurred was the best thing that in any way could have happened to him; and before he reached home, his belief in this had become so strong that he gave thanks to his God, and told the school-master so.

"Yes, now we can think of accomplishing something in life," said the school-master, "instead of playing blind-man's buff, and chasing after numbers. What do you say to the seminary?"

"Why, I should like very much to go there."

"Are you thinking of the agricultural school?"

"Yes."

"That is, without doubt, the best; it provides other openings than a school-master's position."

"But how can I go there? I earnestly desire it, but I have not the means."

"Be industrious and good, and I dare say the means will be found."

Oyvind felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude. His eyes sparkled, his breath came lightly, he glowed with that infinite love that bears us along when we experience some unexpected kindness from a fellow-creature. At such a moment, we fancy that our whole future will be like wandering in the fresh mountain air; we are wafted along more than we walk.

When they reached home both parents were within, and had been sitting there in quiet expectation, although it was during working hours of a busy time. The school-master entered first, Oyvind followed; both were smiling.

"Well?" said the father, laying aside a hymn-book, in which he had just been reading a "Prayer for a Confirmation Candidate."

His mother stood by the hearth, not daring to say anything; she was smiling, but her hand was trembling. Evidently she was expecting good news, but did not wish to betray herself.

"I merely had to come to gladden you with the news, that he answered every question put to him; and that the priest said, when Oyvind had left him, that he had never had a more apt scholar."

"Is it possible!" said the mother, much affected.

"Well, that is good," said his father, clearing his throat unsteadily.

After it had been still for some time, the mother asked, softly,--

"What number will he have?"

"Number nine or ten," said the school-master, calmly.

The mother looked at the father; he first at her, then at Oyvind, and said,--

"A houseman's son can expect no more."

Oyvind returned his gaze. Something rose up in his throat once more, but he hastily forced himself to think of things that he loved, one by one, until it was choked down again.

"Now I had better go," said the school-master, and nodding, turned away.

Both parents followed him as usual out on the door-step; here the school-master took a quid of tobacco, and smiling said,--

"He will be number one, after all; but it is not worth while that he should know anything about it until the day comes."

"No, no," said the father, and nodded.

"No, no," said the mother, and she nodded too; after which she grasped the school-master's hand and added: "We thank you for all you do for him."

"Yes, you have our thanks," said the father, and the school-master moved away.

They long stood there gazing after him.


CHAPTER VII.


The school-master had judged the boy correctly when he asked the priest to try whether Oyvind could bear to stand number one. During the three weeks which elapsed before the confirmation, he was with the boy every day. It is one thing for a young, tender soul to yield to an impression; what through faith it shall attain is another thing. Many dark hours fell upon Oyvind before he learned to choose the goal of his future from something better than ambition and defiance. Often in the midst of his work he lost his interest and stopped short: what was it all for, what would he gain by it?--and then presently he would remember the school-master, his words and his kindness; and this human medium forced him to rise up again every time he fell from a comprehension of his higher duty.

In those days while they were preparing at Pladsen for the confirmation, they were also preparing for Oyvind's departure for the agricultural school, for this was to take place the following day. Tailor and shoemaker were sitting in the family-room; the mother was baking in the kitchen, the father working at a chest. There was a great deal said about what Oyvind would cost his parents in the next two years; about his not being able to come home the first Christmas, perhaps not the second either, and how hard it would be to be parted so long. They spoke also of the love Oyvind should bear his parents who were willing to sacrifice themselves for their child's sake. Oyvind sat like one who had tried sailing out into the world on his own responsibility, but had been wrecked and was now picked up by kind people.

Such is the feeling that humility gives, and with it comes much more. As the great day drew near he dared call himself prepared, and also dared look forward with trustful resignation. Whenever Marit's image would present itself, he cautiously thrust it aside, although he felt a pang in so doing. He tried to gain practice in this, but never made any progress in strength; on the contrary, it was the pain that grew. Therefore he was weary the last evening, when, after a long self-examination, he prayed that the Lord would not put him to the test in this matter.

The school-master came as the day was drawing to a close. They all sat down together in the family-room, after washing and dressing themselves neat and clean, as was customary the evening before going to communion,