Vilhelm Moberg - Unto A Good Land

Kristina said to Karl Oskar: Next Sunday he must stay home alone and look after their offspring. She would go to Uncle Danjel’s and wish Ulrika of Västergöhl well on her coming marriage.

— 2—

She started out on her walk early in the morning. It was the first time she had walked alone from Ki-Chi-Saga to the settlement at Lake Gennesaret. Karl Oskar had advised against it — but this time she wanted to go by herself through the clearing; sometime she must learn to walk alone, in a place where she would live for the rest of her life. She would feel like a penned-in animal if she could never leave her home without being followed and guarded like a herd beast. She could not lose her way — there only was one road to follow.

The Indians had returned and had been around the lake, but she tried to suppress her fear of the copperskins with this thought: If God protects me, I need not be afraid to walk alone through the forest. If God does not protect me, I would not be safe in the greatest company of people.

The forest had been washed clean by the mild spring rains, the grass was sprouting, the leaf-trees were budding, the air smelled fresh and good, of foliage and bark and buds, of earth and mold. Kristina stepped lightly over the wretched road, she breathed with an easy heart. For long stretches she could imagine she walked through the woodlands at home in Duvemåla. Here grew the same trees, though they were larger, more wild looking than at home. She was more at home with trees and bushes than with people, and did not feel lonely in her walk through the woods.

But she never forgot the dangers that might lurk in the forest. Any moment she might encounter something frightening. Last time Swedish Anna came to visit she had seen a cut-off human foot in the road. It was tied to a post stuck in the ground, a bloody foot with a brown skin — an Indian foot. It was a gruesome sign put there by the savages — Swedish Anna thought it meant war between the Chippewas and the Sioux.

Nor did Kristina forget the snakes which had come out of their holes in the spring sunshine and might lie in wait for her. But neither humans nor animals molested her on her Sunday walk, she saw neither snakes nor maimed human feet.

When she reached Danjel’s house, she found Ulrika alone. Jonas Petter had made a small skiff, and he and Danjel had taken the children onto the lake; they hoped to catch some fish for dinner.

Ulrika had returned the evening before from a visit with her daughter in Stillwater. Elin was satisfied in her service, her duties were light and her American master and mistress were kind to their servants. Ulrika had also visited Pastor Jackson in his new house, and she had been to his church and heard him preach.

Kristina noticed at once that Ulrika was not herself today. She did not seem as lively or hearty as usual, she had a serious look on her face, her motions and bearing were different, there was something inscrutable about her. She had a new expression, a thoughtful, solemn look. Perhaps it was caused by the great change which her imminent marriage would bring her.

She took out her knapsack and began carefully folding garments and placing them in it. So she was already busy with her moving.

“I’m packing up a little,” she said.

“Yes. I’ve already heard about it. You’re moving to Taylors Falls to be the storekeeper’s wife!”

Ulrika looked up quickly, with a strange, serious glance. She did not answer. Kristina wished her well in her marriage, she repeated her words twice. But Ulrika seemed not to appreciate this good wish, rather, it pained her. She did not acknowledge it, she did not say thank you. She seemed embarrassed and annoyed as she picked up a well-washed and newly ironed shift — Kristina guessed this shining white garment might be her bridal shift.

What was the matter with the Glad One today? Kristina scarcely recognized her. She was always jolly and in high spirits, and this was surely the time for rejoicing. Something must be wrong.

A worrying thought came to Kristina: Perhaps the marriage with Mr. Abbott was off? Had something come between them? Had the suitor regretted his proposal and taken it back? Something had happened. But Ulrika was packing her clothes — was she moving away from Danjel in any case? Kristina asked outright.

“Yes, I’m moving away,” Ulrika said, as she spread her clean shift on the table. “But not to Taylors Falls! I am not going to be Storekeeper Abbott’s wife.”

“Then it isn’t true?”

“It was the truth. Or almost the truth.” Ulrika’s voice trembled slightly in a way Kristina had never heard before. “It was as close to the truth as anything can be. I could have married Mr. Abbott. But now I’ve changed my mind.”

“What in the world—”

“Everything has changed for me.”

Kristina held her breath: Ulrika must mean that the suitor had changed his mind. Someone might have slandered Ulrika to Mr. Abbott, someone might have told him about her life in Sweden. It must be some Swede — who could it be? Who would be so cruel? Who had betrayed Ulrika?

“Has something come between you?”

“Yes, something came between.”

Anger rose within Kristina. Never would she shake hands with the dastard who had ruined Ulrika’s marriage plans. “Some wicked, jealous gossip has spoiled it?”

“No,” said Ulrika. “It was not a human being.”

“No human being?”

“It was God Himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“God came between. He did not want me to marry Mr. Abbott.”

Ulrika folded the sleeves of her shift. She turned toward Kristina, her full bosom heaving inside her tight bodice: “The Lord stepped in and averted the marriage.”

Kristina was confused; Ulrika did not seem to feel she had lost a great opportunity; rather, the Glad One spoke as though a great disaster had nearly overtaken her, which at the last moment God had prevented.

Ulrika explained: Mr. Abbott was the American she had exchanged more English words with than anyone else; she understood him better than anyone, what she had learned of the new language she had learned from him. Ever since New Year’s she had known that the postmaster wanted to marry her. Shortly before Christmas, when she went to shop in his store, he had walked part way back with her and helped carry her food basket. He did the same thing again and again, and one evening he had walked all the way to their house and stayed overnight. He had eaten with them, she had offered him the same fare she gave to Danjel and Jonas Petter, but never had she seen a man so grateful for food. He had said she was an expert at cooking, and a few weeks ago he had proposed. He said he needed a housekeeper, and she needed a home — if they married, both would have what they needed.

Abbott was a courteous and fine man, he acted toward her the way all American men acted toward women. How many pounds he had carried for her from Taylors Falls! Even a choosy woman could accept such a man. But she wasn’t quite satisfied with the way he had proposed; he ought to have said: I need a human being in my home during the daytime, and a woman in my bed at night! But he hadn’t said that. He had only said he needed a housekeeper and cook. If he had proposed the other way, then she would have accepted him at once. Instead she asked for some time to think it over — and this she had done in such a way that he undoubtedly took it for half a promise to marry him.

She needed not only a home, she needed also a man, she hadn’t slept with a man for more than three years. She was in her prime, her youthful blood still flowed warm in her body. And when she married, she wanted to marry a man who cared more for what a woman could give in bed than what she could offer at the table. She had long wished for a man who would rather starve at table than fail to appreciate what a woman could give with her soul and body. She wanted, too, a man to help her physically and spiritually, a man she could always rely on. She was afraid a marriage with Mr. Abbott would turn out badly.