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Page 32
Then, one Saturday night, the mail brought news that the railroad
was to go through the parish after all, and through the old
churchyard. It struck like lightning into every home. The
unanimous veto of the county board had been in vain; Lars
Hogstad's influence had proved stronger. This was what his absence
meant, this was his work! It was involuntary on the part of the
people that admiration of the man and his dogged persistency
should lessen dissatisfaction at their own defeat; and the more
they talked of the matter the more reconciled they seemed to
become: for whatever has once been settled beyond all change
develops in itself, little by little, reasons why it is so, which
we are accordingly brought to acknowledge.
In going to church next day, as they encountered each other they
could not help laughing; and before the service, just as nearly
all were convened outside,--young and old, men and women, yes,
even children,--talking about Lars Hogstad, his talents, his
strong will, and his great influence, he himself with his
household came driving up in four carriages. Two years had passed
since he was last there. He alighted and walked through the crowd,
when involuntarily all lifted their hats to him like one man; but
he looked neither to the right nor the left, nor returned a single
salutation. His little wife, pale as death, walked behind him. In
the house, the surprise became so great that, one after another,
noticing him, stopped singing and stared. Canute Aakre, who sat in
his pew in front of Lars', perceiving the unusual appearance and
no cause for it in front, turned around and saw Lars sitting bowed
over his hymn-book, looking for the place.
He had not seen him until now since the day of the
representatives' meeting, and such a change in a man he never
could have imagined. This was no victor. His head was becoming
bald, his face was lean and contracted, his eyes hollow and
bloodshot, and the giant neck presented wrinkles and cords. At a
glance he perceived what this man had endured, and was as suddenly
seized with a feeling of strong pity, yes, even with a touch of
the old love. In his heart he prayed for him, and promised himself
surely to seek him after service; but, ere he had opportunity,
Lars had gone. Canute resolved he would call upon him at his home
that night, but his wife kept him back.
"Lars is one of the kind," said she, "who cannot endure a debt of
gratitude: keep away from him until possibly he can in some way do
you a favor, and then perhaps he will come to you."
However, he did not come. He appeared now and then at church, but
nowhere else, and associated with no one. On the contrary, he
devoted himself to his farm and other business with an earnestness
which showed a determination to make up in one year for the
neglect of many; and, too, there were those who said it was
necessary.
Railroad operations in the valley began very soon. As the line was
to go directly past his house, Lars remodelled the side facing the
road, connecting with it an elegant verandah, for of course his
residence must attract attention. They were just engaged in this
work when the rails were laid for the conveyance of gravel and
timber, and a small locomotive was brought up. It was a fine
autumn evening when the first gravel train was to come down. Lars
stood on the platform of his house to hear the first signal, and
see the first column of smoke; all the hands on the farm were
gathered around him. He looked out over the parish, lying in the
setting sun, and felt that he was to be remembered so long as a
train should roar through the fruitful valley. A feeling of
forgiveness crept into his soul. He looked toward the churchyard,
of which a part remained, with crosses bowing toward the earth,
but a part had become railroad. He was just trying to define his
feelings, when, whistle went the first signal, and a while after
the train came slowly along, puffing out smoke mingled with
sparks, for wood was used instead of coal; the wind blew toward
the house, and standing there they soon found themselves enveloped
in a dense smoke; but by and by, as it cleared away, Lars saw the
train working through the valley like a strong will.
He was satisfied, and entered the house as after a long day's
work. The image of his grandfather stood before him at this
moment. This grandfather had raised the family from poverty to
forehanded circumstances; true, a part of his citizen-honor had
been lost, but forward he had pushed, nevertheless. His faults
were those of his time; they were to be found on the uncertain
borders of the moral conceptions of that period, and are of no
consideration now. Honor to him in his grave, for he suffered and
worked; peace to his ashes. It is good to rest at last. But he
could get no rest because of his grandson's great ambition. He was
thrown up with stone and gravel. Pshaw! very likely he would only
smile that his grandson's work passed above his head.
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