III.

Lars moved around in the large rooms at Hogstad without uttering a word.  His wife who loved him, but always with fear and trembling, dared not so much as show herself in his presence.  The management of the farm and house had to go on as it would, while a multitude of letters were passing to and fro between Hogstad and the parish, Hogstad and the capital; for he had charges against the county board which were not acknowledged, and a prosecution ensued; against the savings-bank, which were also unacknowledged, and so came another prosecution.  He took offence at articles in the Christiania Correspondence, and prosecuted again, first the chairman of the county board, and then the directors of the savings-bank.  At the same time there were bitter articles in the papers, which according to report were by him, and were the cause of great strife in the parish, setting neighbor against neighbor.  Sometimes he was absent whole weeks at once, nobody knowing where, and after returning lived secluded as before.  At church he was not seen after the grand scene in the representatives’ meeting.

Then, one Saturday night, the mail brought news that the railroad was to go through the parish after all, and through the old churchyard.  It struck like lightning into every home.  The unanimous veto of the county board had been in vain; Lars Hogstad’s influence had proved stronger.  This was what his absence meant, this was his work!  It was involuntary on the part of the people that admiration of the man and his dogged persistency should lessen dissatisfaction at their own defeat; and the more they talked of the matter the more reconciled they seemed to become:  for whatever has once been settled beyond all change develops in itself, little by little, reasons why it is so, which we are accordingly brought to acknowledge.

In going to church next day, as they encountered each other they could not help laughing; and before the service, just as nearly all were convened outside,—­young and old, men and women, yes, even children,—­talking about Lars Hogstad, his talents, his strong will, and his great influence, he himself with his household came driving up in four carriages.  Two years had passed since he was last there.  He alighted and walked through the crowd, when involuntarily all lifted their hats to him like one man; but he looked neither to the right nor the left, nor returned a single salutation.  His little wife, pale as death, walked behind him.  In the house, the surprise became so great that, one after another, noticing him, stopped singing and stared.  Canute Aakre, who sat in his pew in front of Lars’, perceiving the unusual appearance and no cause for it in front, turned around and saw Lars sitting bowed over his hymn-book, looking for the place.