The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1973, Blaðsíða 35

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
33
One Sunday evening late in the
summer Ingolfur had walked west to
the meadow to look after his livestock.
Having found everything in order, he
walked leisurely home. It was bright
moonlight and dead calm; pinkish-
whiite light spread like a magic veil
over everything. In the forest every-
thing was alive — a world of its own
that came alive in the evening. The
trees stood like sentinels, quiet and
calm and cast long shadows. It was
one of those charmingly beautiful
evenings that often follow hot days.
It feels as if the earth takes all living
things, tired after the brunt of the day
ino its soft, cool arms, like a gentle
mother.
Ingolfur had reached the pavement
in front of the house. Involuntarily
and from an old habit he stopped
and looked out over the lake that
trembled and glittered in the moon-
light. He happened to look south
along the beach a little way south of
the farmhouse. There they came walk-
ing, Ragnhildur and tire doctor, —
and held hands.
Ingolfur stood petrified — over-
whelmed — with pain — disappoint-
ment — rage. One feeling succeeded
the other.
So this was the business the doctor
had come to Vik for — not rest. Some
rest this was! What a damned fool he
had been. And Ragnhildur, she had
betrayed him — deliberately betrayed
him — for the first time in her life,
and for an Englishman at that, she,
his only child.
There they came holding hands.
He was not prepared to meet them
now. Had to gain some time to think,
try to pull himself together.
He had better walk, walk away the
tumult and the rage as he had often
done before. He hurried away from
the farm — away from Ragnhildur
and the doctor — away from every-
thing, out into the quiet night. He
was alone — all alone. He walked a
long distance along the beach — back
and forth — back and forth.
He had often longed that Thordis
had been allowed to live, but never
as mournfully as now. His loneliness
screamed at him. He wished for the
power to retrieve her from eternity
— see her, — find her, — win her sym-
pathy and help. One could always
depend on her even after she took
sick.
Suddenly Ingolfur stopped short.
What had been Thordis’ last and only
request. Didn’t she entrust little Ragn-
hildur, then in her second year, to
his care? He had tried to be worthy
of her trust.
tie felt that he owed to Thordis in
her grave the youth and joy of life
that she had been deprived of so soon.
This debt he had tried to pay to Ragn-
hildur. Until now it had been a
pleasure to him. But now the time
had come when one of them had to
give in to the other.
Ragnhildur was not fickle-minded
— nobody knew her deep feeling and
firm disposition better than he. He
understood now, why she had often
looked at him with worried, earnest
eyes lately.
Ingolfur suddenly felt tired —
mentally and physically. He sat down
on the sand and rested his chin in his
hand.
His thoughts were clearing — they
had settled.
The memory of Thordis — her
presence, the murmur from the lake,
peace and tranquility of the night, —
all this touched his tired soul as the
soft hands of a loved one.