But in the middle of the reading he
paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father.
Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never
known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the
children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same
way that this old peasant woman had longed!
This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not
been such a one that anybody could long for him.
But what he had not been, perhaps he could become.
Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were
big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long
veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved
hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared
blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see.
"Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You
cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my
mother is living!"
Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living,"
said he. "Both father and mother are living."
FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA
_Friday, April fifteenth_.
The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep
and then he dreamed of his father and mother.
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