Free The Last Letter Home by Vilhelm Moberg Page A

walk on my hands!”
    Sitting there at the bride’s side his thoughts had wandered far away from Indian rumors: He had a story to tell, well suited for a wedding. It was about a farmer and a soldier, a rich farmer in Ljuder who hired the village soldier to make an heir for him and offered his bed for the purpose. He had started this story on many occasions, but always someone had said it didn’t fit just now, and he had been silenced. But today, at this wedding, it seemed most proper.
    Jonas Petter had made the roses bloom still redder on the cheeks of the girl-bride. Perhaps that was what he wanted. He began: “Once long ago . . .”
    At that moment the host asked to be heard at the other end of the table: Before the guests sat down to enjoy God’s many gifts he wanted to read a prayer.
    The settlers were enjoying a wedding feast, yet at this moment Jonas Petter’s story was less suitable than ever.
    —4—
    Karl Oskar and Kristina remained in the bridal house for a while after the other guests had departed. Kristina wanted to talk with Danjel alone.
    During their spiritual conversations she would confide implicitly in her uncle. He told her what God’s will was, and gave her advice when she was in doubt. She regretted that she had not spoken to him before she had committed her grave sin of praying to God not to create any more life in her body. Only afterward had she mentioned that prayer to him.
    Now Danjel looked at his sister’s daughter and said with concern: “You look so pale and thin, dear Kristina. Life is hard on you, isn’t it?”
    “The same as always, but I’m not as able as before . . .”
    “You look sickly—is your mind at ease?”
    “I’m at peace, Uncle. I feel God has taken charge of me.”
    “Then there are no troubles left for you.”
    Danjel Andreasson had aged noticeably during the last years. His beard and hair had turned ice-gray, his cheeks had become sunken, and all his teeth had fallen out. But deep under his bristling brows shone the mild, good eyes which glorified his face. He had been banished from his mother country because of his religious beliefs, but instead he had seen the Land of Canaan, and he never neglected to thank God for his exile from Sweden.
    Kristina said she wanted to pray to God that she might live a few years yet, until the children had grown up some. She had a demanding need to confide all her wishes to her Creator.
    “He already knows them all,” smiled Danjel, as if forgiving a child’s fancy.
    “Is it wrong to pray for it, Uncle?”
    “I don’t think you will anger God with that prayer. He is patient with us. But the soul he has given you he will take back whenever it suits him. Your hour of death is already decided.”
    Kristina wanted a special piece of advice today; it concerned Karl Oskar. What could be done with him? He went with her to the Lord’s table in church, he read his confession. But in between he always forgot his prayers. It was as if he didn’t want any help from God. He trusted only in himself, and knew no help in this world except his own strength and his own mind. He thought he could get along by himself. But he must be a grave sinner in his self-reliance; Karl Oskar’s great fault was his conceit. And she worried lest he be lost in eternity. What should she do?
    “You must pray to God for him,” said the uncle. “That is all you can do.”
    “He’s so stubborn and won’t change.”
    “You must wait till his hour comes. Then Karl Oskar will realize that he can no longer help himself. If not before, when his strength is gone and old age frightens him.”
    Danjel also wanted his sister’s daughter to keep something important in her mind. It was good that she had peace in her soul. But she must be careful not to fall into the fallacy of believing that she once and for all was guaranteed eternal life. That life she must still earn every day of her earthly life. He himself had once been tempted to self-righteousness, and he