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Page 26
The pastor was called in, and he remained at the Ingmar Farm the
whole afternoon. On his way home, he stopped at the schoolmaster's.
He had experienced things in the course of the day which he felt
the need of telling to some one who would understand.
Storm and Mother Stina were deeply grieved, for they had already
heard that Ingmar Ingmarsson was dead. The clergyman, on the other
hand, looked almost radiant as he stepped into the schoolmaster's
kitchen.
Immediately Storm asked the pastor if he had been in time.
"Yes," he said, "but on this occasion I was not needed."
"Weren't you?" said Mother Stina.
"No," answered the pastor with a mysterious smile. "He would have
got on just as well without me. Sometimes it is very hard to sit by
a deathbed," he added.
"It is indeed," nodded the schoolmaster.
"Particularly when the one who is passing from among us happens to
be the best man in your parish."
"Just so."
"But things can also be quite different from what one had imagined."
For a moment the pastor sat quietly gazing into space; his eyes
looked clearer than usual behind the spectacles.
"Have you, Strong, or you, Mother Stina, ever heard of the
wonderful thing that once happened to Big Ingmar when he was a
young man?" he asked.
The schoolmaster said that he had heard many wonderful things about
him.
"Why, of course; but this is the most wonderful of all! I never
knew of it myself until to-day. Big Ingmar had a good friend who
has always lived in a little cabin on his estate," the pastor
continued.
"Yes, I know," said the schoolmaster. "He is also named Ingmar;
folks call him Strong Ingmar by way of distinction."
"True," said the pastor; "his father named him Ingmar in honour of
the master's family. One Saturday evening, at midsummer, when the
nights are almost as light as the days, Big Ingmar and his friend,
Strong Ingmar, after finishing their work, put on their Sunday
clothes and went down to the village in quest of amusement."
The pastor paused a moment, and pondered. "I can imagine that the
night must have been a beautiful one," he went on, "clear and
still--one of those nights when earth and sky seem to exchange
hues, the sky turning a bright green while the earth becomes veiled
in white mists, lending to everything a white or bluish tinge. When
Big Ingmar and Strong Ingmar were crossing the bridge to the
village, it was as if some one had told them to stop and look
upward. They did so. And they saw heaven open! The whole firmament
had been drawn back to right and left, like a pair of curtains, and
the two stood there, hand in hand, and beheld all the glories of
heaven. Have you ever heard anything like it, Mother Stina, or you,
Storm?" said the pastor in awed tones. "Only think of those two
standing on the bridge and seeing heaven open! But what they saw
they have never divulged to a soul. Sometimes they would tell a
child or a kinsman that they had once seen heaven open, but they
never spoke of it to outsiders. But the vision lived in their
memories as their greatest treasure, their Holy of Holies."
The pastor closed his eyes for a moment, and heaved a deep sigh. "I
have never before heard tell of such things." His voice shook a
little as he proceeded. "I only wish I had stood on the bridge with
Big Ingmar and Strong Ingmar, and seen heaven open!
"This morning, immediately after Big Ingmar had been carried home,
he requested that Strong Ingmar be sent for. At once a messenger
was dispatched to the croft to fetch him, only to find that Strong
Ingmar was not at home. He was in the forest somewhere, chopping
firewood, and was not easy to find. Messenger after messenger went
in search of him. In the meantime, Big Ingmar felt very anxious
lest he should not get to see his old friend again in this life.
First the doctor came, then I came, but Strong Ingmar they couldn't
seem to find. Big Ingmar took very little notice of us. He was
sinking fast. 'I shall soon be gone, Parson,' he said to me. 'I
only wish I might see Strong Ingmar before I go.' He was lying on
the broad bed in the little chamber off the living-room. His eyes
were wide open and he seemed to be looking all the while at
something that was far, far away, and which no one else saw. The
three little children he had rescued sat huddled at the foot of his
bed. Whenever his eyes wandered for an instant from that which he
saw in the distance, they rested upon the children, and then his
whole face was wreathed in smiles.
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