Quite as much by chance she began to play the piano. It was discovered
that she had more talent for music than the daughters of the house, so
it was thought best that she should learn, in order to help them.
Moreover, she grew tall, and developed a fine voice for singing. The
governess took great pains in teaching her to sing by note; she did so
at first merely in the mechanical way she did everything, later because
the remarkable skill in reading at sight which her pupil developed under
her guidance proved a diversion to them all in their mountain solitude.
The priest could lie on the sofa (the place he most frequently occupied)
and laugh aloud when he heard Magnhild running all sorts of exercises up
and down like a squirrel in a tree. The result of this, so far as
Magnhild was concerned, was that the young girl learned--not more music,
as one might have supposed, but--basket-making.
The fact was that about this time there spread, like an epidemic among
the people, the idea that skill in manual industries should be
cultivated among the peasants, and propagators of the new doctrine
appeared also in this parish. Magnhild was chosen as the first pupil;
she was thought to have the most "dexterity." The first thing taught was
basket-making, then double spinning, then weaving, especially of the
more artistic kinds, and after this embroidery, etc., etc. She learned
all these things very rapidly, that is to say, she learned zealously as
long as she was gaining an insight into each; further development did
not interest her. But as she was henceforth expected to teach others,
grown people as well as children, it became a settled habit for her to
repair twice each week to the public school where many were assembled.
When anything had once become part of her daily routine she thought no
more about it. The house that had given her shelter was responsible for
this.
The mistress of the house made her daily regulation visits to the
kitchen, cellar, and stables, the rest of the time she embroidered; the
whole house was covered with embroidery. She might be taken for a fat
spider, with a little round head, spinning its web over chairs, tables,
beds, sledges, and carts. Her voice was rarely heard; she was seldom
addressed by any one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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