Book: The Emperor of Portugalia

S >> Selma Lagerlof >> The Emperor of Portugalia




Two mace-bearers (for there was also one from the Ashdales) walked
in front of the coffins, and the whole parish marched in the
funeral procession. It could not have been better had the Emperor
himself arranged for it. And they were not altogether certain that
the whole thing was not his doing. He had become so wonderful after
his death, had the old Emperor. He must have had a purpose in
letting his daughter wait for him; a purpose in rising up out of
the deep at just the right time--as sure as fate!

When they had all come up to the wide grave and the coffins had
been lowered into it, the sexton sang "My every step leads to the
grave."

Sexton Blackie was now an old man. His singing reminded Glory
Goldie of that of another old man, to whom she had not wanted to
listen. And the recollection of this brought with it bitter
anguish; she pressed her hands to her heart and closed her eyes, so
as not to betray her sufferings.

And while she stood thus she saw before her her father as he had
been in her childhood, when he and she were such good friends and
comrades. She recognized his face as she had seen it one Sunday
morning after a blizzard, when the road was knee-deep with snow and
he had to carry her to church. She saw him again as he appeared the
Sunday she went to church in the red dress. No one had ever looked
kinder or happier than Jan did then. But after that day there had
been no more happiness for him, and she had never been quite
contented either.

She strove to hold this face before her eyes. It did her good.
There rose up in her such a strong wave of tenderness as she looked
at it! That face only wished her well. It was not something to be
feared. This was just the old kind-hearted Jan of Ruffluck. He
would never sit in judgment upon her; he would not bring misfortune
and suffering upon his only child.

Glory Goldie had found peace. She had come into a world of love now
that she could see her father as he was. She wondered how she could
ever have imagined that he hated her; he, who only wanted to
forgive! Wherever she was or wherever she went he would be there to
protect her; he had no thought or wish but that.

Again she felt the great tenderness well up in her heart like a
mighty wave-filling her whole being. Then she knew that all was
well again between her father and her; that he and she were one, as
in the old days. Now that she loved him, there was nothing to be
atoned.

Glory Goldie awoke as from a dream. While she had stood looking
into her father's kindly face the pastor had performed the burial
service. Now he was addressing a few remarks to the people; he
thanked them, one and all, for coming to this funeral. It was no
great or distinguished man that had just been laid to rest, he
said, but he was perhaps one who had borne the richest and warmest
heart in these regions.

When the pastor said this the people again glanced at one another.
And now every one looked pleased and satisfied. The parson was
right: it was because of Jan's great heart they had come to the
funeral.

Then the pastor spoke a few words to Glory Goldie. He said that she
had received greater love from her parents than had any one he knew
of, and that such love could only turn to blessing.

At this everybody looked over at Glory Goldie, and they all
marvelled at what they saw. The pastor's saying had already come
true. For there, at the grave of her parents, stood Glory Goldie
Sunnycastle, who had been named by the Sun itself, shining like one
transfigured! She was as beautiful now as on that Sunday when she
came to church in the red dress, if not more beautiful.

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