Olaf, and with the same
confidence he expects to see his race spread into
the future in the same soil where once it has
struck root. Then comes the storm from the
Western seas, wrestles with the sturdy trunk,
and breaks it; and the shattered branches fly to
all the four corners of the heavens. No wonder,
then, like a tree that has lost its crown, his
strength is broken and he expects but to
smoulder into the earth and die.
Bjarne Blakstad, like the sturdy old patriot
that he was, had always fiercely denounced the
America rage; and it was now the hope of his
daughters that, perhaps, he had stayed behind
to remind the restless ones among the youth of
their duty toward their land, or to frighten some
bold emigration agent who might have been too
loud in his declamations. But it was already
eight o'clock and Bjarne was not yet to be seen.
The night was dark and stormy; a cold sleet
fiercely lashed the window-panes, and the wind
roared in the chimney. Grimhild, the younger
sister, ran restlessly out and in and slammed the
doors after her. Brita sat tightly pressed up
against the wall in the darkest corner of the
room. Every time the wind shook the house
she started up; then again seated herself and
shuddered. Dark forebodings filled her soul.
At last,--the clock had just struck ten,--there
was a noise heard in the outer hall. Grimhild
sprang to the door and tore it open. A tall,
stooping figure entered, and by the dress she at
once recognized her father.
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