a story from the sand-hills-第7部分

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plates；　and　from　the　rafters　hung　hams；　beef；　and　winter　stores　in

plenty。　This　can　still　be　seen　in　many　rich　farms　on　the　west　coast　of

Jutland：　plenty　to　eat　and　drink；　clean；　prettily　decorated　rooms；

active　minds；　cheerful　tempers；　and　hospitality　can　be　found　there；　as

in　an　Arab's　tent。

　　　　Jurgen　had　never　spent　such　a　happy　time　since　the　famous　burial

feast；　and　yet　Miss　Clara　was　absent；　except　in　the　thoughts　and

memory　of　all。

　　　　In　April　a　ship　was　to　start　for　Norway；　and　Jurgen　was　to　sail　in

it。　He　was　full　of　life　and　spirits；　and　looked　so　sturdy　and　well

that　Dame　Bronne　said　it　did　her　good　to　see　him。

　　　　〃And　it　does　one　good　to　look　at　you　also；　old　wife；〃　said　the

merchant。　〃Jurgen　has　brought　fresh　life　into　our　winter　evenings；　and

into　you　too；　mother。　You　look　younger　than　ever　this　year；　and　seem

well　and　cheerful。　But　then　you　were　once　the　prettiest　girl　in

Viborg；　and　that　is　saying　a　great　deal；　for　I　have　always　found　the

Viborg　girls　the　prettiest　of　any。〃

　　　　Jurgen　said　nothing；　but　he　thought　of　a　certain　maiden　of

Skjagen；　whom　he　was　soon　to　visit。　The　ship　set　sail　for

Christiansand　in　Norway；　and　as　the　wind　was　favourable　it　soon

arrived　there。

　　　　One　morning　merchant　Bronne　went　out　to　the　lighthouse；　which

stands　a　little　way　out　of　Old　Skjagen；　not　far　from　〃Grenen。〃　The

light　was　out；　and　the　sun　was　already　high　in　the　heavens；　when　he

mounted　the　tower。　The　sand…banks　extend　a　whole　mile　from　the

shore；　beneath　the　water；　outside　these　banks；　many　ships　could　be

seen　that　day；　and　with　the　aid　of　his　telescope　the　old　man　thought

he　descried　his　own　ship；　the　Karen　Bronne。　Yes！　certainly；　there

she　was；　sailing　homewards　with　Clara　and　Jurgen　on　board。

　　　　Clara　sat　on　deck；　and　saw　the　sand…hills　gradually　appearing　in

the　distance；　the　church　and　lighthouse　looked　like　a　heron　and　a　swan

rising　from　the　blue　waters。　If　the　wind　held　good　they　might　reach

home　in　about　an　hour。　So　near　they　were　to　home　and　all　its　joys…

so　near　to　death　and　all　its　terrors！　A　plank　in　the　ship　gave　way；

and　the　water　rushed　in；　the　crew　flew　to　the　pumps；　and　did　their

best　to　stop　the　leak。　A　signal　of　distress　was　hoisted；　but　they　were

still　fully　a　mile　from　the　shore。　Some　fishing　boats　were　in　sight；

but　they　were　too　far　off　to　be　of　any　use。　The　wind　blew　towards

the　land；　the　tide　was　in　their　favour；　but　it　was　all　useless；　the

ship　could　not　be　saved。

　　　　Jurgen　threw　his　right　arm　round　Clara；　and　pressed　her　to　him。

With　what　a　look　she　gazed　up　into　his　face；　as　with　a　prayer　to　God

for　help　he　breasted　the　waves；　which　rushed　over　the　sinking　ship！

She　uttered　a　cry；　but　she　felt　safe　and　certain　that　he　would　not

leave　her　to　sink。　And　in　this　hour　of　terror　and　danger　Jurgen　felt

as　the　king's　son　did；　as　told　in　the　old　song：



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃In　the　hour　of　peril　when　most　men　fear；

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　He　clasped　the　bride　that　he　held　so　dear。〃



　　　　How　glad　he　felt　that　he　was　a　good　swimmer！　He　worked　his　way

onward　with　his　feet　and　one　arm；　while　he　held　the　young　girl　up

firmly　with　the　other。　He　rested　on　the　waves；　he　trod　the　water…　in

fact；　did　everything　he　could　think　of；　in　order　not　to　fatigue

himself；　and　to　reserve　strength　enough　to　reach　land。　He　heard

Clara　sigh；　and　felt　her　shudder　convulsively；　and　he　pressed　her　more

closely　to　him。　Now　and　then　a　wave　rolled　over　them；　the　current

lifted　them；　the　water；　although　deep；　was　so　clear　that　for　a

moment　he　imagined　he　saw　the　shoals　of　mackerel　glittering；　or

Leviathan　himself　ready　to　swallow　them。　Now　the　clouds　cast　a

shadow　over　the　water；　then　again　came　the　playing　sunbeams；　flocks　of

loudly　screaming　birds　passed　over　him；　and　the　plump　and　lazy　wild

ducks　which　allow　themselves　to　be　drifted　by　the　waves　rose　up

terrified　at　the　sight　of　the　swimmer。　He　began　to　feel　his　strength

decreasing；　but　he　was　only　a　few　cable　lengths'　distance　from　the

shore；　and　help　was　coming；　for　a　boat　was　approaching　him。　At　this

moment　he　distinctly　saw　a　white　staring　figure　under　the　water…　a

wave　lifted　him　up；　and　he　came　nearer　to　the　figure…　he　felt　a

violent　shock；　and　everything　became　dark　around　him。

　　　　On　the　sand　reef　lay　the　wreck　of　a　ship；　which　was　covered　with

water　at　high　tide；　the　white　figure　head　rested　against　the　anchor；

the　sharp　iron　edge　of　which　rose　just　above　the　surface。　Jurgen　had

come　in　contact　with　this；　the　tide　had　driven　him　against　it　with

great　force。　He　sank　down　stunned　with　the　blow；　but　the　next　wave

lifted　him　and　the　young　girl　up　again。　Some　fishermen；　coming　with

a　boat；　seized　them　and　dragged　them　into　it。　The　blood　streamed

down　over　Jurgen's　face；　he　seemed　dead；　but　still　held　the　young　girl

so　tightly　that　they　were　obliged　to　take　her　from　him　by　force。　She

was　pale　and　lifeless；　they　laid　her　in　the　boat；　and　rowed　as　quickly

as　possible　to　the　shore。　They　tried　every　means　to　restore　Clara　to

life；　but　it　was　all　of　no　avail。　Jurgen　had　been　swimming　for　some

distance　with　a　corpse　in　his　arms；　and　had　exhausted　his　strength　for

one　who　was　dead。

　　　　Jurgen　still　breathed；　so　the　fishermen　carried　him　to　the　nearest

house　upon　the　sand…hills；　where　a　smith　and　general　dealer　lived

who　knew　something　of　surgery；　and　bound　up　Jurgen's　wounds　in　a

temporary　way　until　a　surgeon　could　be　obtained　from　the　nearest

town　the　next　day。　The　injured　man's　brain　was　affected；　and　in　his

delirium　he　uttered　wild　cries；　but　on　the　third　day　he　lay　quiet

and　weak　upon　his　bed；　his　life　seemed　to　hang　by　a　thread；　and　the

physician　said　it　would　be　better　for　him　if　this　thread　broke。　〃Let

us　pray　that　God　may　take　him；〃　he　said；　〃for　he　will　never　be　the

same　man　again。〃

　　　　But　life　did　not　depart　from　him…　the　thread　would　not　break；

but　the　thread　of　memory　was　severed；　the　thread　of　his　mind　had

been　cut　through；　and　what　was　still　more　grievous；　a　body　remained…　a

living　healthy　body　that　wandered　about　like　a　troubled　spirit。

　　　　Jurgen　remained　in　merchant　Bronne's　house。　〃He　was　hurt　while

endeavouring　to　save　our　child；〃　said　the　old　man；　〃and　now　he　is

our　son。〃　People　called　Jurgen　insane；　but　that　was　not　exactly　the

correct　term。　He　was　like　an　instrument　in　which　the　strings　are　loose

and　will　give　no　sound；　only　occasionally　they　regained　their　power

for　a　few　minutes；　and　then　they　sounded　as　they　used　to　do。　He

would　sing　snatches　of　songs　or　old　melodies；　pictures　of　the　past

would　rise　before　him；　and　then　disappear　in　the　mist；　as　it　were；　but

as　a　general　rule　he　sat　staring　into　vacancy；　without　a　thought。　We

may　conjecture　that　he　did　not　suffer；　but　his　dark　eyes　lost　their

brightness；　and　looked　like　clouded　glass。

　　　　〃Poor　mad　Jurgen；〃　said　the　people。　And　this　was　the　end　of　a　life

whose　infancy　was　to　have　been　surrounded　with　wealth　and　splendour

had　his　parents　lived！　All　his　great　mental　abilities　had　been　lost；

nothing　but　hardship；　sorrow；　and　disappointment　had　been　his　fate。　He

was　like　a　rare　plant；　torn　from　its　native　soil；　and　tossed　upon

the　beach　to　wither　there。　And　was　this　one　of　God's　creatures；

fashioned　in　His　own　likeness；　to　have　no　better　fate？　Was　he　to　be

only　the　plaything　of　fortune？　No！　the　all…loving　Creator　would

certainly　repay　him　in　the　life　to　come　for　what　he　had　suffered　and

lost　here。　〃The　Lord　is　good　to　all；　and　His　mercy　is　over　all　His

works。〃　The　pious　old　wife　of　the　merchant　repeated　these　words　from

the　Psalms　of　David　in　patience　and　hope；　and　the　prayer　of　her

heart　was　that　Jurgen　might　soon　be　called　away　to　enter　into

eternal　life。

　　　　In　the　churchyard　where　the　walls　were　surrounded　with　sand

Clara　lay　buried。　Jurgen　did　not　seem　to　know　this；　it　did　not　enter

his　mind；　which　could　only　retain　fragments　of　the　past。　Every

Sunday　he　went　to　church　with　the　old　people；　and　sat　there

silently；　staring　vacantly　before　him。　One　day；　when　the　Psalms　were

being　sung；　he　sighed　deeply；　and　his　eyes　became　bright；　they　were

fixed　upon　a　place　near　the　altar　where　he　had　knelt　with　his　friend

who　was　dead。　He　murmured　her　name；　and　became　deadly　pale；　and

tears　rolled　down　his　cheeks。　They　led　him　out　of　church；　he　told

those　standing　round　him　that　he　was　well；　and　had　never　been　ill；　he；

who　had　been　so　grievously　afflicted；　the　outcast；　thrown　upon　the

world；　could　not　remember　his　sufferings。　The　Lord　our　Creator　is　wise

and　full　of　loving　kindness…　who　can　doubt　it？

　　　　In　Spain；　where　balmy　breezes　blow　over　the　Moorish　cupolas　and

gently　stir　the　orange　and　myrtle　groves；　where　singing　and　the

sound　of　the　castanets　are　always　heard；　the　richest　merchant　in　the

place；　a　childless　old　man；　sat　in　a　luxurious　house；　while　children

marched　in　procession　through　the　streets　with　waving　flags　and

lighted　tapers。　If　he　had　been　able　to　press　his　children　to　his

heart；　his　daughter；　or　her　child；　that　had；　perhaps　never　seen　the

light　of　day；　far　less　the　kingdom　of　heaven；　how　much　of　his　wealth

would　he　not　have　given！　〃Poor　child！〃　Yes；　poor　child…　a　child　still；

yet　more　than　thirty　years　old；　for　Jurgen　had　arrived　at　this　age

in　Old　Skjagen。

　　　　The　shifting　sands　had　covered　the　graves　in　the　courtyard；

quite　up　to　the　church　walls；　but　still；　the　dead　must　be　buried　among

their　relatives　and　the　dear　ones　who　had　gone　before　them。　Merchant

Bronne　and　his　wife　now　rested　with　their　children　under　the　white

sand。

　　　　It　was　in　the　spring…　the　season　of　storms。　The　sand　from　the

dunes　was　whirled　up　in　clouds；　the　sea　was　rough；　and　flocks　of　birds

flew　like　clouds　in　the　storm；　screaming　across　the　sand…hills。

Shipwreck　followed　upon　shipwreck　on　the　reefs　between　Old　Skagen

and　the　Hunsby　dunes。

　　　　One　evening　Jurgen　sat　in　his　room　alone：　all　at　once　his　mind

seemed　to　become　clearer；　and　a　restless　feeling　came　over　him；　such

as　had　often；　in　his　younger　days；　driven　him　out　to　wander　over　the

sand…hills　or　on　the　heath。　〃Home；　home！〃　he　cried。　No　one　heard

him。　He　went　out　and　walked　towards　the