Page:The Yellow Book - 08.djvu/312

that for the deacon to look at his niece was something as unlikely as that his own little Lauritz should some day aspire to a princess of the reigning house. It was not that the deacon was in reality far removed in the social scale from Johanna. It was that the deacon was Hjorth, a man of pronounced ambition, with an exaggerated estimate of his own peculiar importance.

Never had the tragedy of being, as opposed to the comedy of doing, been so plainly focussed on the lens of Johanna's vision as on the evening upon which she first made the acquaintance of Ole Ormond. She, who had always been open-eyed to the influences of nature, was now dominated by what was happening about her. All was so changed with the outgoing of the Godliness that had before been the essence of all she saw and was impressed by, that she existed in a maze of mysteries. Mysteries alarm. Johanna was intimidated. For the winter mists that constantly rolled down the valley now, that crept up suddenly and quietly from one point or from all, and sucked up to the very walls of the farmhouse, seemed to be enveloping her and her life into what she comprehended it was become. All was narrowing, encircling closer and more close, towards a prevention of any change or stir. The tragedy of being is bitter. Johanna's realisation of it came early, and found her an easy victim. The girl had no wit for self-sacrifice. She was unaware that she might defy the desperation of her case by declaring that, though for her the actualities of existence were over, there should remain opportunities for benefiting others of which she would avail herself. Tragedy with her had the fullest chance. She was devoid of thecunning