“Hadn't I better scrape the stone a bit clean?”
“No, it doesn't matter,” he said.
But he got up all the same, and let me clean it a little.
It was then that Ragnhild came running up to us, following the line of
the trench. She had something in her hand--a paper. And she was running,
running. The Captain sat watching her.
“It's only a telegram!” she said breathlessly. “It came on by
messenger.”
The Captain got up and strode quickly a few paces forward toward this
telegram that had come. Then he tore it open and read.
We could see at once it must be something important. The Captain gave a
great gasp. Then he began walking down, running down, towards the house.
A little way off he turned round and called to Nils:
“The carriage at once! I must go to the station!”
Then he ran on again.
* * * * *
So the Captain went away again. He had only been home a few hours.
Ragnhild told us of his terrible haste and worry, poor man; he was
getting into the carriage without his fur coat, and would have left the
food behind him that was packed all ready. And the telegram that had
come was lying all open on the stairs.
“Accident,” it said. “Your wife.--Chief of Police.” What was all this?
“I thought as much,” said Ragnhild, “when they sent it on by messenger.”
Her voice was strange, and she turned away. “Something serious, I dare
say,” she said.
“No, no!” said I, reading and reading again. “Look, it's not so very
bad! Hear what it says. 'Request you come at once--accident to your
wife.'”
It was an express telegram from the little town, the little dead town.
Yes, that was it--a town with a roar of sound through it, and a
long bridge, and foaming waters; all cries there died as they were
uttered--none could hear. And there were no birds.
But all the maids spoke now in changed voices; 'twas nothing but misery
amongst us now; I had to appear steady and confident myself, to reassure
them. Fruen might have had a fall, perhaps, she was not as active of
late. But she could, perhaps, have got up again and walked on almost
as well as ever--just a little bleeding.... Oh, they were so quick with
their telegrams, these police folk!
“No, no!” said Ragnhild. “You know well enough that when the Chief of
Police sends a telegram it's pretty sure to mean Fruen's been found dead
somewhere! Oh, I can't--I can't--can't bear it!”
Miserable days! I worked away, harder than ever, but as a man in his
sleep, without interest or pleasure. Would the Captain never come?
Three days later he came--quietly and alone. The body had been sent to
Kristianssand; he had only come back to fetch some clothes, then he was
going on there himself, to the funeral.
He was home this time for an hour at most, then off again to catch the
early train. I did not even see him myself, being out at work.
Ragnhild asked if he had seen Fruen alive.
He looked at her and frowned.
But the girl would not give up; she begged him, for Heaven's sake, to
say. And the two other maids stood just behind, as desperate as she.
Then the Captain answered, but in a low voice as if to himself:
“She had been dead some days when I got there. It was an accident; she
had tried to cross the river and the ice would not bear. No, no,
there was no ice, but the stones were slippery. There was ice as well,
though.”
Then the maids began moaning and crying; but this was more than he could
stand. He got up from the chair where he was sitting, cleared his throat
hard, and said:
“There, there, it's all right, girls, go along now. Ragnhild, a minute.”
And then to Ragnhild, when the others had gone: “What was I going to
say, now? You haven't moved some photos, have you, that were on the
piano here? I can't make out what's happened to them.”
Then Ragnhild spoke up well and with spirit--and may Heaven bless her
for the lie!
“I? No, indeed, 'twas Fruen herself one day.”
“Oh? Well, well. I only wondered how it was they had gone.”
Relieved--relieved the Captain was to hear it.
As he was leaving he told Ragnhild to say I was not to go away from
Øvrebø till he returned.