Doctor Molke's Friends
CHAPTER II.
ROLFSON THE MISSIONARY.
THE reader who has followed the account of Sipsu through the last chapter will remember that when we parted with that untamable savage a shadow of suspicion hung about him. The mysterious circumstance of his appearance in the fog, at a time when all hunters should be at home, and his subsequent behavior, led Doctor Molke to believe, as was very evident, that something was going wrong; and from the time of our first encounter until we had crept into our tent to sleep, I was conscious that the Doctor had lost something of his usual gayety. He had become thoughtful, and evidently a little anxious. What it was all about I could not pretend to guess.
For myself, the meeting with Sipsu was simply a novel experience, and one of great interest to me. It soon became clear, however, that our journey, undertaken for the gratification of curiosity, had acquired a serious aspect.
The Doctor’s reticence puzzled me, and to judge from that I might have thought something particularly dreadful was going to happen. I did not, however, care to question him, seeing that he was not inclined to talk about the matter of his own free will, — if, indeed, there was anything to talk about at all. In proportion, however, as I put this restraint upon myself, my curiosity very naturally increased ; and how long after we had crawled out of our fur beds I should have found myself able to keep entirely quiet I cannot pretend to say.
But the Doctor spoke at last. We had just finished an excellent breakfast that Adam had set out for us upon the flat rock where he had served the supper on the previous evening. “ I have been thinking,”said he, “a great deal about the behavior of Sipsu. Ordinarily the fellow is lively enough, and I thought that I should be able to show you a simple savage in his savage retreat, and give you one more novelty to carry home with you. But, although he is really acting his character perfectly, he does not reveal the side of it that I wanted you to see. To cut a long story short, I am pretty well convinced that he would cause trouble, if he only could, to some people in whom I have much interest. I am not sure of it, by any means ; yet the feeling is so strong upon me that I think those people ought to know what we have seen.”
“ Ought to know what we have seen ? ”
I repeated in my mind. “Ought to know what we have seen ?—-an oddlooking savage, with an odd-looking boat, in an odd sort of place ! That is What I have seen. If the Doctor has seen more, then the plot thickens ! If the Doctor is serious, are we likely to have some work on hand?” But for the life of me I could not make out what harm this skin-clad and unwashed dweller in the ice forest, called Sipsu, could do to anybody, or what possible motive he could have for doing it.
“ I feel obliged, therefore,” continued the Doctor, “ to go somewhat out of my way in returning home, and I hope you will not find it greatly to your inconvenience.”
The Doctor was really serious, after all ! There was not the least room for doubting it.
“ By no means,” I answered promptly. “ It will not inconvenience me in the least. On the contrary, the further the journey is prolonged the better I shall be pleased. You know I am ' enlisted for the war,’ and will see you through.”
“Then you would not mind seeing another of my friends ? ”
“ Certainly not; and if he is as interesting a specimen of humanity as this fur-bound barbarian friend of yours, then my debt of thanks will be doubled.”
“ I think,” replied the Doctor, “you will find him quite as interesting, though in a very different way.”
“ But let me ask, is this other friend another savage ? ”
“No, not a savage this time, but an honest gentleman ” ; and without further ado the Doctor called Adam, and told him to prepare for starting with all possible despatch.
And so, after finding a luxury-loving man, and starting a savage, I was to seek an honest gentleman ! “ Truly,” thought I, “ this home of the icebergs, and land of the glaciers, and realm of everlasting frost, is not so bad a place to come to, after all ! ” and thus wondering what was next going to happen,
I followed the Doctor up to Sipsu’s tent, while Adam got the breakfast ready.
Sipsu had not once come near our camp, and he seemed wholly indisposed (as well he might) to have anything to do with us. But if he was angry with Doctor Molke for bringing him back to the island, why should he stay there nursing his wrath ? why did he not start off again while we were sleeping ?
I put these questions to the Doctor.
“ That’s easily explained,” was his reply. “ He knew that he was watched, or thought he was, which is pretty much the same, and would not risk a second humiliation and the chance of being shot to boot! ”
“ Who is the man on post ? ” I asked ; and it struck me as something ludicrous, to see a sentry “ standing post” in such a place.
“ Adam,” answered the Doctor, “and he hates the savage very cordially, and has just sense enough, besides, to obey orders. Sipsu would, however, be off almost as soon as we, if he had his own way. But I do not mean to let him have his own way, as you shall see.”
We found Sipsu seated on a rock near his tent; and he wore the same sullen look that he had worn the day before. He tried hard, however, to look pleasant as we came up to him, and succeeded about as well as a griffin might be supposed to if he tried to laugh. But the treatment he had received at the Doctor’s hands had thrown such a heavy shadow on his face, that not a ray of sunshine had yet come back to it, —if, indeed, any such thing did ever find its way to his face at all.
The Doctor did not seem to be in the least taken aback by the smile of the griffin order with which he greeted us, but hailed him in the same off-hand and easy manner with which he had before accosted him :
“ Hallo, Sipsu ! Looking for seals, eh ? ”
“No ! ” answered Sipsu with a fearful grunt, which seemed to come from the bowels of the earth instead of from his own.
“ I want to borrow your kayak, Sipsu,” continued the Doctor ; and now the grunt with which the savage answered was even more fearful than before ; but whether it signified “ yes” or “ no ” I could not well make out. The Doctor did not, however, seem to be for an instant in doubt about it ; but went right on to where the boat was, followed by one of our crew, who took it down, and carried it off upon his arm to the camp.
“ Thank you, Sipsu,” said the Doctor, “much obliged to you; will send it back in a day or so.”
As soon as the Doctor’s back was turned, Sipsu came close up to me, and in a very hurried manner asked me,
“ What Dok-tee-mo-kee want with my kayak ?”
Of course I did not know, and told him so.
“ I know ! ” continued he. “ He no want my kayak at all. He want to keep me here. Dok-tee-mo-kee one very great wise man. He know what I think, I know what he think too ” ; and the savage looked as he would say, “ I 'll be even with Dok-tee-mo-kee yet.”
When the Doctor joined me, and we had turned to leave this strange creature of the island, he said to me, “A shrewd rascal that; but I have blocked his game this time, I think.”And Doctor Molke laughed good-naturedly at the discomfiture of his friend, the savage Sipsu.
We were now soon in our boat, afloat once more upon the waters of the fiord, with one of our crew in Sipsu’s kayak following after. The day was in striking contrast to the previous one. The fog had lifted and melted away, and the great forest of icebergs was glittering in a brilliant sunlight. Not a cloud was visible, the air had grown quite warm ; and before a light wind we sailed on and on upon our tortuous course,— icebergs rising before us and sinking behind us, as they had done when we had first set out upon our journey,— while the same voices of their crumbling and overturning came from every side to startle us, to win our admiration and excite our wonder.
On and on we sped for hours and hours, and watched the changing forms of the icebergs as we passed them by, and the islands with the hunters’ little huts upon them, until the scene became wearisome. I was not sorry, therefore, when the Doctor told me that we were near our destination. Soon afterward we rounded a point of land, and the little trading station of Karsuk stood in view, perched upon a dark, naked, rocky slope, looking much like the town where Doctor Molke lived, — exhibiting the same onestory, pitch-and-tar-coated houses, the same stone-and-turf-built huts, the same seal-skin tents, the same unmistakable odor peculiar to every fishing-town, the same great pack of howling dogs, the same odd sort of people standing near the rocky beach gazing at us.
If these things presented little that was picturesque or pleasant to the eye, there was yet one thing there to delight the heart. A little Christian church, with its front painted white, beamed brightly in the Arctic sunshine beneath a Christian cross ; and if frowned upon by “Greenland’s icy mountains,” it yet inspired the same emotions, and suggested the same sentiments of love and hope and faith, as if it had gleamed over the rich foliage of our own home summer above some peaceful “ village of the plain.”
Near the church there stood a modest-looking little dwelling, — black like all the rest. “ And there,” said the Doctor, pointing to it, “ lives the ‘ honest gentleman ! that I told you of.”
I had a great curiosity to know something of this “honest gentleman” in advance, and said so to my companion.
“ A missionary after St. Paul’s, and a man after my own heart,”was the reply.
“ An excellent recommendation truly; but by what name might this new wonder be called ? ”
“ His name is Eric Rolfson,” answered the Doctor; “but Rolfson the missionary is the name by which he is known in all the country round.”
We were fortunate in finding Rolfson the missionary at home ; and seeing our boat approach, he hastened to the landing-place to meet us. I had a fine look at him, as he stood close by the margin of the water, waiting for the boat to touch the rocks, and then to help us ashore.
He appeared to be a vigorous, hearty man ; and was tall and well proportioned. His dress did not differ in its general pattern from our own ; but the cap, waistcoat, pantaloons, and boots were made of seal-skins instead of cloth. He wore a simple, heavy brown cloth coat. Of course such clothing would spoil the finest figure in the world; but his was one of those on which everything hangs gracefully, and one forgot the clothing while looking at the man. His features were regular, and his complexion was very fresh and fair, as I thought, for such a climate. His hair and beard were light, and almost golden. Of the latter there was not enough to hide the outlines of his chin, and his hair was long and soft, and it curled about his temples in a gentle, tender sort of way ; and, altogether, Eric Rolfson, as he stood upon the rocks waiting for us to step ashore, was an attractive-looking person, and claimed the interest instantly. He met us in a cordial, graceful manner that was very winning. “ A thousand thanks for your coming.” Greetings over, he instantly proposed to lead us to his “ hut,” as he called his residence.
“ But first,” broke in the Doctor, “ I must tell you why we came.”
“ Of course you came to see me,” answered Rolfson ; “ what else could have brought you here ? ”
“ Of course to see you, good Rolfson,” replied the Doctor ; “ but we came rather by accident than original design, I fear.”
“ Now, don’t tell me that,” remonstrated the missionary,— “ don’t tell me that; because you see it would be so poor a compliment.”
“ Poor compliment or not,” went on the Doctor, “ you must take it for what it’s worth. But, Rolfson, come, I must have a word with you at once ” ; and turning to me he excused himself, and then turning to Rolfson he pulled him aside ; but as they did not move more than a few paces, and as I could not move in any direction without passing nearer to them, some parts of their conversation reached my ears.
“ Indeed ! ” I heard Rolfson exclaim. “ Then he has left the island ! ”
“Who told you that?” inquired the Doctor.
“ I do not know how the news came here,” answered Rolfson ; “ but there are those who pretend to say that it is true.”
“ Then, ” replied the Doctor with evident satisfaction, “it is not true.”
“ No ? ” exclaimed the missionary, half questioning, half in surprise, “ I am truly glad: I have been greatly worried about it, and am much rejoiced you came.”
It was clear enough that both the Doctor and the missionary anticipated that harm might come to somebody through the savage Sipsu, and that both were upon their guard ; but of the nature of this harm I had not yet received the slightest hint, nor could I form the least idea. By and by the Doctor raised his voice again, and I heard him say: “ What ! do you think me such a dunce ? ”
“ Never that at any time,” replied Rolfson, “but I cannot see what you possibly could do.”
“Do!” exclaimed the Doctor as if surprised,— “do! why I brought this kayak with me, to be sure.”
“ And left him a prisoner on his own island!” exclaimed the missionary.
“ Exactly so,” said the Doctor; and the missionary laughed outright, and said it was “ too good a joke to be true.” Then the conversation was continued in an undertone for some moments longer, when I heard the missionary say to the Doctor, “ I 'll do anything you want me to ” ; and it was a very easy thing to see, as they stood together on the rocks, that, if the Doctor admired the missionary as an “ honest gentleman,” the missionary, on the other hand, gave that submission which the weaker nature always offers to the stronger one, when they are brought together.
“ I want you to do just nothing at all, good Rolfson,” answered the Doctor, — “ nothing, at least, but entertain my friend here”; saying which he turned towards me, and made some excuse for leaving me alone so long, and then remarked that he suspected I “must be somewhat curious about this Sipsu, of whom they had been saying so much.”
I told him that his suspicions were quite correct.
“Well,” continued the Doctor, “ it is an odd sort of a history, and I am sure it will amuse you. I have said little about the savage to you, being myself a dreadfully poor story-teller, while Rolfson here is one of the very best; and he has promised me that he will tell it to you, — eh, Rolfson ? ”
The missionary looked at the Doctor as if he should like to reprove him for his wickedness, and would have done it certainly had the Doctor not seemed to him a shade above that sort of thing. It was clear enough that the missionary had made no promise of the kind, and that he had no mind to be thought “ one of the best of storytellers.”
“No matter, then!” exclaimed the Doctor, in his good-natured, pleasant way, seeing that the missionary was both shocked and puzzled, “ Rolfson is modest, and his memory is bad ; but we ’ll have the story none the less before we ’ve done with him. If he does not tell it to you while I am away, I ’ll draw it out of him when I come back.” Then turning to me he said: “ It is necessary for me to go on a little farther in the boat, and I am very certain that you will enjoy a day or so here much better than you would with me ” ; and he turned to leave us, as if in the greatest hurry to be off.
“ Come, come,” cried Rolfson, intercepting him, “this will never do. It must not be said that Doctor Molke came to see the missionary and went away without tasting of the missionary’s hospitality, — even although he may be able to offer but a crust of bread, and a cup of coffee.”
“ Pardon me, Rolfson,” replied the Doctor, “ I meant no discourtesy ; but I have need, as you know, to make some haste, rather than to break bread and drink coffee.”
“ Haste or no haste,” expostulated the missionary, “ I am sure that no enterprise can prosper which is begun by the neglect of a sacred obligation. So now, for once, you must let me give orders, and say ‘ Come along.’ ”
“ Well, well,” exclaimed the Doctor, resignedly, “ have your own way, good man. One who follows you cannot go very far astray, at any rate ; but you see I must not tarry long.”
“Tarry no longer than you please,” replied the missionary, “ I shall let you off right soon. ‘Welcome the coming and speed the parting guest,’is as good for Greenland as elsewhere”; and while he spoke he turned about and conducted us to his house, ushering us into a small, uncarpeted, and very plainly furnished room. The walls, made of plain pine boards, were without paint, and their smoke-stained surface was unbroken by ornament of any kind except a few engravings in plain wooden frames, — all portraits of men who had been connected with the early settlement of Greenland. Among the most conspicuous were those of Hans and Paul Egede, who were the first to preach the Christian faith in these wild places, and of Count Zinzendorf, through whose pious efforts the Moravian Brothers were established at New Herrnhut.
“ What a contrast to Doctor Molke’s luxurious lodge !” I inwardly exclaimed. A few pine shelves were arranged along one side of the room, and they were well stocked with books. Opposite these shelves there was a huge stove, and near the stove an old-fashioned wooden lounge or settee, and three plain wooden-seated chairs were placed around a plain pine table, on which a short, stoop-shouldered, wrinkled, and altogether ancient and singular-looking woman, dressed in seal-skin pantaloons and boots, and fur-bound jacket (in .general form like Sophy’s, only lacking neatness), placed some ill-matched plates and knives and forks and cups, and then brought in a dish of ill-flavored seal-flesh, and an urn of steaming coffee, and a pile of Danish naval bread, which looked about as edible as bricks, and which resembled bricks in everything but its brown color. To soften the harshness of this uninviting repast there was, beside the coffee, some home-brewed beer and a bottle of Danish corn brandy.
“ This is but humble fare, my friends,” said the missionary, in an apologetic tone, as we drew round the table,— “very humble fare indeed; but somehow or other I was never a good caterer for the table, and I sometimes think that I trust quite too much to Barbara "; and the missionary called “ Barbara, Barbara,” and in an instant the stoop-shouldered, wrinkled, and ancient dame above described came waddling through the door leading from the kitchen.
“ Have you nothing but this, Barbara?” inquired the missionary, in a rather hopeful tone of voice, as I thought.
At this question Barbara appeared surprised, and it was quite evident that she looked upon it in the light of a personal reflection. “ What better fare than seal-meat, fried in its own fat, and smelling savory, should anybody want, I should like to know?” was the question she seemed to be coming to, as she stood before her master ; and, viewed in that light, her whole body seemed to be twisted into an enlarged note of interrogation. But although she did not speak the question, she grew voluble, — told us when and where the seal was caught, and what pains and trouble she had taken with the cooking of it, and what a time she had had with the coffee, and how she had gone expressly over to the storehouse to get the bread, and had gone to another place for a cracked cup, and to another place for a battered spoon, for she had never set a table for so many people in all her life before, and she had to borrow furniture ; and all the while she was making this little speech (which was an admirable speech to hear but for the ending of it, when we were plainly told that there was nothing else to eat in all the house) she seemed to be unrolling herself, for she grew several inches taller, and in this operation she appeared to aid herself by sundry shakes of her seal-skin clothes, as a rhinoceros might shake its loosely fitting hide, to get the wrinkles out, and be ready for expansion.
“Not another thing, Barbara?” repeated the missionary, in a much less hopeful tone of voice than before. “Are you quite sure of that?”
“ Quite sure ! Not another thing to eat in all the house,” quoth Barbara.
“ Then Heaven help my hungry guests ! ” was, as it appeared to me, the not unreasonable appeal of our now quite hopeless host.
“ Amen ! ” cried the Doctor, who, no longer able to restrain himself, broke out into a hearty laugh at Rolfson’s woful face. “ Upon my word, good man,” continued he, “ I think you are very far from being sufficiently thankful for Heaven’s gifts ; for such rare coffee as this should of itself be enough to insure contentment to any reasonable being; and as for the corn brandy, it is excellent, as I know from former experience but since you appear to think so poorly of its merits, and like rather the more aromatic distillations of Santa Cruz, your very reasonable and moderate desires may be satisfied by sending this very ancient and voluble Barbara down to the boat.”
“ Now just listen to him ! ” cried the missionary. “ How adroitly he wants to get rid of my bad corn brandy, that he may replace it with his own fine Santa Cruz ; but Barbara shall bring the Santa Cruz for all that, and (how stupid it was a me not to have thought of it before !) she shall bring all the other good things she finds there.” So Barbara, being called, was despatched upon the errand, expressly charged to “ bring everything in the eating and drinking line that she could lay her hands upon.”
“ The pious thief!” exclaimed the Doctor, when Rolfson had finished, “ who ever heard of such a cool proceeding ? But I have learned to be resigned, for so this good man always treats me.”
“So the Doctor treats himself,” retorted the missionary. “ The sinful Sybarite ! he is always fearful that the hermit’s hut will have nothing good enough for his fastidious palate, and hence, when he comes this way, he always crowds his boat with insubstantial luxuries.”
“ Of which insubstantial luxuries,” answered the Doctor, “ the said sinful Sybarite is very speedily relieved by the said abstemious hermit, as example illustrates ; for here comes Barbara, waddling along like a pack-mule under a pair of panniers heavy enough to break her back. A well-instructed servant is Barbara, and used to foraging expeditions of this sort.”
Thus did we in a pleasant manner fill up the time of Barbara’s absence ; and thus did we neglect the missionary’s brickbat bread and steaks of sealflesh.
Barbara came staggering in under her heavy burden, dropped it on the floor, straightened herself out to the extent of about half a foot, gave herself a shake or two after the rhinoceros fashion, took three long pulls at the close atmosphere of the little room, and began to unpack.
“ Heavy ? ” said the Doctor, looking at her with interest and satisfaction.
“Ugh ! Adam !” and a point at the door was the only answer.
Adam was there sure enough, and his scowling face and half his body were pushed through the half-open doorway. His arm was raised above his head, and he had thrown something into the room, with an angry “ There, you forgot that! Take it ! ” before he saw the party at the table, or knew that we were in the house. But the deed was done, and the fellow had shrieked out “ Oh ! ” and quickly closed the door, as if he feared the Doctor’s plate was coming at his head, and he was running frightened away ; and the luckless Barbara was “doubled up ” in such a manner as to show that Adam had been true with his aim, and that Barbara’s three pulls at the close atmosphere of the little room had proved a useless effort. The “game chicken ” himself could hardly have done it more effectually.
“What’s the matter?” cried the missionary.
“ Matter plenty,” answered Barbara (with an angry scowl at the door where Adam’s head had been), as soon as she had pulled in her breath again, — “ matter plenty ; I leave him one loaf of bread to eat, and he want more or will have none ; and he get mad and run after me, and double me all up with no wind in me.”
“ It was very evident that the missionary’s housekeeper had obeyed her orders to the letter, and that she had left our boat as destitute of eatables as an iceberg of warmth, and that the pilot Adam had made defence like a faithful dog, and had been overcome, and was therefore spiteful.
“ Thanks, thanks, good, honest, faithful Barbara ! ” spoke the Doctor in a soothing tone. “ Never mind the wind, but let us have the spoils, and we ’ll settle with Adam by and by.”
Being thus encouraged, Barbara soon made the old pine table look quite cheery with the good things she had brought; and a meal which had a very modest and humble beginning had a very different ending.
The Doctor was soon afterward off upon his journey, and Rolfson and I set out to take a stroll about the hills and valleys in the neighborhood. The day was warm ; we wandered far, climbed high, and talked much.
And the walk was one long to be remembered. Strange groups of people met us everywhere as we strolled near the beach, gazing and grinning at us as we went along ; strange little seal-skin tents peeped up here and there from among the rocks; strange little huts were found in lonely places ; and strangelooking men in their little boats were streaming in from every quarter of the sea, with fish or seals, seeking home and shelter, for the sky was threatening a storm.
The missionary proved to be a most genial and pleasant companion for a walk. He had a gentle word for every hunter, child, or woman that we passed, and they all seemed fond of him. He was fond of exercise, and was a vigorous walker, and his mind was keenly alive to whatever there was of beauty or sublimity in the scenes which broke upon us in the changing view. The cheerfulness of his spirits seemed to me quite wonderful, when I thought of the hardships and privations he must needs endure, not only in his lonely life in this lonely place, but in his wanderings, to and fro, through the frosts and snows of winter and the storms of summer, in the performance of his missionary duties,— carrying into the huts and villages, far and near, Christian counsel and a cheerful face.
My interest in him, excited at the first moment of our meeting, increased greatly as we walked on and talked together. His character I thought quite easily read: it seemed all written in his face and manner. It appeared to me, as I watched and listened to him, that he had banished himself to this distant desert place for the simple love of doing good, and that his happiness was in his work, and that he was satisfied. And yet, as I reflected, more and more it did seem strange to me that one of such a social and sympathetic temperament could bring himself to live alone, as he was doing here, even with this incentive and this satisfying aim ; and in the end I found myself wondering how this earnest yet gentle man, with education and refinement, should be content to dwell in solitude and poverty, even more than I had wondered at the motives of Doctor Molke ; for while the latter was one of those strong, self-reliant men whose actions seem wholly independent of persons or of circumstances, Rolfson, on the other hand, belonged to that class of mortals who are strong only when guided by the conscience,— one of those to whom the heart warms instinctively, who, hiding no action of the daily life, are ever free to give confidence when it is sought without unworthy aim, and who gain the unsolicited confidence of others.
Patient and self-sacrificing, giving everything and receiving nothing but the simple satisfaction of doing good ; humble, yet proud ; always zealous, yet ever cheerful; pious without austerity or asceticism,—such are the true servants of the Lord and teachers of His word.
Fortunately for my curiosity in regard to himself, Rolfson made no effort at concealment. During our walk he spoke frequently of himself, inquired eagerly about the world, and alluded often to his long banishment from it.
The pleasant walk came to an end, and once more we found ourselves seated in the dreary little dining-room of the missionary’s hut. And here our conversation ran on as before, only it became more pointed and particular. I did not at the time observe it, but afterward I recalled the circumstance, that throughout our walk, and for some time after our return, Rolfson asked me only general questions, and seemed desirous only of hearing general news ; but as the evening wore on he seemed to seek more accurate knowledge of the world. And now, as I spoke ofparticular events, either historical or of my own personal knowledge, that had happened on the south side of the Arctic Circle, I could perceive that his eagerness grew and grew, as if some great restraint had been removed ; but as it grew, his manner became less cheerful and more intense, and the brightness vanished from his face.
Had I been watching him carefully and curiously, as at first, I might have noticed that the change was gradual ; but as it was, when I came at length to a pause in my rapid speech, and fixed my eyes upon him steadily, it seemed to me almost as if another man had come to take the place where Rolfson had been sitting by the fire.
I was really startled. I was wholly unprepared for this great change in my companion, so completely had he impressed himself upon my mind as one whose life was and always had been passed in joyous sunshine. I felt that he had a warm and generous heart, and I had hastily inferred that his soul must be always tranquil if his days were passed in his Master’s service. In some sense (indeed, a large one) this was true, but how impossible it is that we should ever reach the depths of the human heart with our plummet-line ! how constantly we err in the conclusions that we draw ! how unjust we often are ! how seldom it is that we count or know the cost at which a human life has gained the privilege of a narrow footing on the narrow road !
In our silence the lines of sadness deepened in the missionary’s face ; and, anxious to fill the pause, I found myself asking: “ In spite of all your active, pressing duties, do you not find your place at times wearisome and your life lonely?”
“Very lonely indeed my life is sometimes,” replied Rolfson ; “ though not more so here, perhaps, than it would be in the most crowded city of the world. All places are pretty much alike to me ” ; and as he answered me he rose from his seat, and, crossing the room, looked vacantly out of the window.
He must have been himself conscious that his voice and manner had both changed ; for, as he passed me in returning to his seat, he paused in front of me and said: “Pardon a momentary weakness. You do not know what a strange effect you produce upon me. You have come to me, as it were, with the rich perfume of the world about you, and you tell me of the world’s delights and of its pleasant places. For years I have scarcely allowed the world to come across my thoughts. But your words were such as to call up, in spite of all that I could do, associations which I would place beyond the reach of memory. At first you saw me much excited and very eager. It has never been easy for me to control my emotions. These few hours of our acquaintance, of our walking and talking together, have exposed to you two very opposite features of my character.”
I was much surprised with his extraordinary frankness, and felt that we were no longer strangers to each other. But I was really alarmed at the result of our conversation, — fearing that I had unwittingly said, as I hurried on, something to give him pain.
“ Our conversation,” said he, in answer to my expression of this feeling, “ was of my own seeking, — at least that part of it which concerns the world from which you come”; saying which, he walked once more to the window, and, for a moment, pressed his forehead against the window-pane. Then he paced two or three times up and down the room, and then resumed his seat.
The situation had, by this time, become to me embarrassing. I rose from my chair, took down a book from one of the pine shelves, and turned the leaves. Then I replaced the book upon, the shelf, and, crossing the room, opened the door and looked out upon the bay. Seeing that I was not observed, I passed through the doorway, glad to get where I could think freely of the strange alteration which had taken place in the missionary.
Presently the door was opened, and Rolfson came out after me ; and, putting his arm within mine, he said, “ Come, let us walk,”
We went down to the beach where we had landed, and then talked for a little while with a group of native men and women who were standing about some captured seals; then we went up to the little church, in which I found myself much interested, and after this we returned to the dining-room once more.
I observed now that the missionary had become more like himself again ; but this proved to be only temporary; for his thoughts were clearly fixed intently upon something, and I found it impossible to lead him again into conversation.
At length he said, quite abruptly: “You have told me that you wondered to see me here, and have hinted that you would like to know why I came.”
“ I must own,” said I, “that I have had a deep interest in your life aroused by what I have seen and by what you have told me; and, without desiring to be obtrusive, I would have learned more, for your career is very different from that of ordinary men.”
“ Then you shall know what brought me here,” said he; “words are oftentimes a great relief to us. For years I have not spoken of myself to any human being. Of what I may tell you I have not said a word to Molke. Why I should speak of it to you seems strange. But, as I have said before, you come to me with all the associations of the great world about you,— a world in which I have found much true happiness ; and, in spite of me, your mere presence here during these past few hours has brought up at every moment a past which I thought I had put behind me forever, saying, ' God’s will be done.’ You would not believe how very weak I am ; how constantly I am forced to struggle with myself, if I would in this life fulfil my allotted task. The cause of my being here is quickly told. I came to find a wilderness where I could bury a heavy sorrow.”
The tone of voice in which he made this declaration, the sadness that was on his face, told very plainly that the sorrow, whatever it might be, still lingered in the heart, and was not buried yet, nor would be until the heart had throbbed its last throb, let him wander where he would or seek a wilderness wherever he might. One grave alone must bury it and him together.
While speaking he had risen from his seat again, and approached the door leading to his chamber. As he placed his hand upon the latch he turned to me and said: “ I will let you see what I have not for a long time dared trust myself to look upon. Will you follow me ? ”
His face was very pale, his eyes were fixed and vacant, his step seemed to have lost its natural firmness, and as I followed him I felt amazed at the change that had come over him.
The chamber into which he conducted me was small, and, like the other room, was poorly furnished. The walls were wholly bare, — unadorned by anything whatever, except that above his narrow bed there hung a richly gilded frame, covered with a piece of black drapery, evidently put there to hide it. Advancing to this frame Rolfson lifted the drapery, and exposed the picture that it held.
It was a woman’s face exquisitely painted, and very beautiful, — one of those sunny faces not often seen,— perfectly moulded, bright and loving and lovable, —one of the most delicate and pure of blondes, — with auburn hair so massive yet so light that it did not seem to touch the forehead as it waved over it, and fell back in ringlets upon the neck and shoulders.
My whole attention was for some moments so absorbed by the portrait, that I had neglected, or forgotten, the companion at my side, standing there holding up the drapery, which seemed as if it might not have been touched before for years. When at length I did remember him, and looked into his face, a strange calmness had come over it ; there was no blood there to give color to the cheeks or lips, but the agitation which I had before witnessed had disappeared.
Long and steadily he gazed upon the lovely face, and it seemed as if it was possessed with life and was speaking to him. Then he drew the drapery across it slowly and solemnly, and turned and walked away. As we passed back through the door he leaned his hand upon my shoulder and said, in a low and feeble voice, “ She was my wife.”
She was his wife! Those simple words told all the tale. She was his wife ! No wonder for the heavy load of sorrow that this meek and pious man was carrying in his heart; no wonder that he could not wholly put the past behind him, saying in all meekness and humility, “ God’s will be done ! ”
“ It has been a long, long time,” said Rolfson, after he was seated, as if talking to himself, —“a long, long time indeed since I looked upon her picture ; but her sweet face is ever present to my memory.” And then, arousing himself suddenly, he addressed me, saying, “ Shall we go into the open air ? I will tell you what I promised at another time.”
Once outside, the color soon returned to Rolfson’s face, and the manly freshness to his spirits. We walked on over the rough rocks, and came presently upon the sea. The wind was blowing heavily, and a swell which was coming in from the open ocean was pounding great lumps of ice against the rocks beneath our feet. The air was alive with screaming gulls ; and storm-clouds, rising from beyond the line of tumbling waters, and leaving far behind the spray, which streamed over the icebergs in the sea, dashed madly against the solid cliffs above our heads, and were there shattered and broken into phantom shapes, that clung to the dark gorges and gloomy caverns among the crags, and seemed to crave protection from the shrieking winds.
“Ah, this is what I love!” cried Rolfson, with enthusiasm, as we looked out upon this troubled scene. “This is what I most enjoy! Molke loves the solemn, quiet grandeur of the hills and glaciers, and the icebergs which make a forest of the sea ; but I love the storms. The screaming of these gulls is more to me than the linnets’ warblings ; the pounding of the ice, and the beating of the sea upon the cold gray stones are more pleasant to my ear than the dashing waterfall; these dark and fiercely rushing clouds speak to me a language more cheering than the Italian sunset; for in these things I read God’s power more truly ; in them I seem nearer to his throne ; in them I can forget wholly the senses and the delights they bring, and, wandering from this life, which to all of us should be (though it never is) filled constantly with thoughts of the life to come, I seem to be within the heavenly light. What strength, what power, this scene seems to give me always ! How it lifts me from myself, and makes me long to do some worthy thing, that, when I have fought my fight and kept my faith, I may be at peace, if it is God’s will! ”
The deep earnestness of Rolfson’s voice as he spoke these words was most impressive. The man whom I had seen in the early afternoon ; the man with whom I had wandered in the sunshine, through the valleys and on the hill-tops, stood now before me quite his former self again ; stronger, no doubt, and better that the storm within had come and passed. The cheerful smile had lighted up his face again, and showed the victory won.
We turned our backs upon the gale and walked again to the missionary’s hut; and as we went along, Rolfson, speaking gently, said : “ Ah, my friend, you have seen me exhibit a weakness for which I need offer no apology, for I cannot be ashamed of it. It was but human, and was caused by the mere circumstance of your coming here, as I have already said, fresh from a world that I thought I had forgotten. How little I had forgotten it I thank you for having shown me. Come,” and he put his arm within my own, “let us hasten home. And since we have had our enjoyment of the storm, let it blow itself to pieces as it will; and while it blows, you shall mingle with the wailing wind the story of my life.”
As we neared the hut, the gale blowing now even more fiercely than before, I said to Rolfson, “ While the storm is raging so, have you any fears for Doctor Molke in his boat ? ”
“ What! fears for Molke, in his boat or anywhere ! ” exclaimed the missionary, as if the question took him by surprise, and had been no more thought of than that he himself should work a miracle,—“ fears for Molke, no ; I have no fears for Doctor Molke at any time or in any place. Danger and Doctor Molke seem to have parted company long ago. The one is to the other as water to the feathers of a swan. At the present moment I dare say he is having a right royal supper in some safe place ; or if in danger, you may be sure that he will light upon his feet with not a feather ruffled, or a muscle of his genial face disturbed, or one pulsation added in the hour. Fears for him ? why, I never thought of such a thing. No, indeed ! no fears for him ! no fears for Doctor Molke in the storm or anywhere ! ”