Ole began to work hard again; he spent practically all his time in his
office. He lost flesh; he did not get out enough; his eyes became absent
and flickering. He was hardly off the wharves or outside the warehouses
for several weeks. Nobody should say that he pined and drooped because his
engagement was cancelled! He worked and minded his own business and was
getting on nicely.
He was getting thin; that was simply because he worked too hard. He hoped
nobody would think it might be due to other causes. There were so many
things to be done since his return from England; he had explained it all
to Tidemand. But he was going to take it a little easier now. He wanted to
get out a little, observe what was doing, amuse himself.
And he dragged Tidemand to theatres and to Tivoli. They took long walks in
the evenings. They arranged to start the tannery and the tar works this
coming spring. Ole was even more enthusiastic than Tidemand; he threw
himself so eagerly into the project that nobody could for a moment harbour
any mistaken notions about his being grief-stricken. He never mentioned
Aagot; she was dead and forgotten.
And Tidemand, too, was getting along comfortably. He had lately re-engaged
his old cook and he took his meals at home now. It was a little lonely.
The dining-room was too large, and there was an empty chair; but the
children carried on and made the most glorious noise throughout the house;
he heard them sometimes clear down in his office. They disturbed him
often, took him away from his work at times; for whenever he heard their
little feet patter on the floors up-stairs and their merry shouts echo
through the rooms he simply had to put down his pen and run up for a
moment. In a few minutes he would come back and throw himself into his
work like an energetic youth.... Yes, Tidemand was getting along famously;
he couldn't deny it. Everything had begun to turn out well for him.
On his way home one evening Tidemand happened to drop in at a grocery
store he supplied with goods. It was entirely by accident. He entered the
store and walked over to the owner who stood behind the counter. Suddenly
he saw his wife at the counter; in front of her he noticed some parcels.
Tidemand had not seen her since that evening outside his office. He had
fortunately caught sight of her ring in a jewellery window as he passed by
one day and had immediately bought it and sent it to her. On a card she
had written a few words of thanks. She had not missed the ring, but it was
another matter now; she would keep it always.
She stood there at the counter in a black dress; it was a little
threadbare. For a moment he wondered if perhaps she was in need, if he did
not give her enough money? Why did she wear such old dresses? But he had
sent her a good deal of money. Thank God, he was able to do that. In the
beginning, when he was still struggling, he hadn't sent her such large
amounts, it was true. He had grieved over it and written to her not to be
impatient; it would be better soon. And she had thanked him and answered
that he was sending her altogether too much; how was she going to use it
all? She had lots and lots of money left.
But why did she dress so shabbily, then?
She had turned around; she recognised his voice when he spoke to the
owner. He grew confused; he bowed smilingly to her as he had to the
grocer, and she blushed deeply as she returned his bow.
"Never mind about the rest," she said to the clerk in a low voice. "I'll
get that some other time." And she paid hurriedly and gathered up her
bundles. Tidemand followed her with his eyes. She stooped as she walked
and looked abashed until she disappeared.