she had some slight acquaintance; but on the way she encountered Mrs.
Rantzau herself walking with Hermansen, and from the manner in which
the pair appeared absorbed in each other's society, Malla Trap judged
it best to postpone the call for the present. Immediately after,
Vindt, her cousin, came strolling along, and stopped to speak.
"Well, Mrs. Mallaprop, how's things with you?"
"Very well, thanks, rude boy."
Vindt stood a moment pointing with his stick to the pair that had
just passed.
"What do you say to that, my lanky cousin--pretty bit of goods the
banker's got hold of there. Who is she?"
"Mrs. Rantzau, the music teacher."
"Oho! So that's the lady, is it! Well, I must say, she looks quite
smart."
"When are you coming to see me?"
"My dear child, think of your reputation! What would the world say if
I were to go visiting a love-lorn female without a chaperon in the
world?"
"Don't talk nonsense. Come home and have dinner. I've a nice piece of
fish."
"And apple sauce, what? No, thank you; I was ill for a fortnight last
time I sampled your new-fangled menus. But I mustn't take up your
valuable time. _Addio, cara mia!_"
And Vindt strode off, in time to see Hermansen and Mrs. Rantzau
disappear round the corner. He began to wonder what it could mean.
Banker Hermansen running off in business hours with a lady all
dressed up--this was something altogether unprecedented, and enough
to set others beside Vindt agape. Hermansen, a man devoid of all
tender feeling, whose heart was popularly supposed to be made of
rhinoceros hide--surely he could not be going that way like any other
mortal?
Vindt was so occupied with the phenomenon that he walked full tilt
into Listad and the schoolmaster, the former of whom buttonholed at
once and began delivering a long harangue about the new Ministry and
the political situation.
"... Such a state of things, my dear sir, is more than gloomy; it is
desperate. And the _fons et origo_ of the whole trouble lies in the
fact that...."
"That there's too many amateurs poking their fingers into the
business as it is, and an ungodly mess they're making of it, instead
of sticking to their work and doing something useful."
Listad thought he had never met a ruder fellow than this
unceremonious broker; never encountered a citizen with a more callous
disregard to higher political aims, and the needs of the country.
"But what--what is to become of a nation if its individual units
allow themselves to be swallowed up in mere material strivings, deaf
to the call of lofty ideals, blind to the moral welfare of the land,
and of humanity at large? I ask you, how will such a people fare?"
"First-rate, if you ask me," said Vindt, and walked off.
Meantime Malla Trap had come to the conclusion that she might as
well take up the business in hand with Holm himself at once; it would
have to be done sooner or later.
She went up to the drawing-room, and told the maid to go down and ask
if Mr. Holm could spare a few minutes.
Holm was somewhat surprised at the message; Malla Trap did not often
come round like this of her own accord in the middle of the week.
"Well, my dear Miss Trap, is there anything special the matter since
we have the pleasure of seeing you to-day? Or were you feeling
lonely, perhaps?"
"Lonely enough I am at times, Knut Holm."
"Why, yes, I suppose--when one is all by oneself--er--one feels that
way now and then. I know myself I often feel the want of company,
someone to confide in----"
"Ah, but you've memories, Knut Holm, happy memories."
"That's true--but even then--it's apt to be dull all the same in the
long-run, with nothing but memories."
"I hear you are thinking of marrying again."
"And who's been kind enough to tell you that?"
"Oh, I had it from a reliable source. But honestly, Knut Holm, I
think you will do well to reflect before you do."
"I've put in quite enough reflection over it already, my dear Malla
Trap, worked it out all round. I know it means a lot of extra expense
and bother, with new arrangements and all that, but seeing I can't
reasonably expect to live more than another twenty years or so, I
fancy there'll be enough to manage it."
"So that's what you call working it out, is it? Working out sums of
money! I thought you were a man of loftier ideals than that."
"I was, in my younger days, Malla Trap. Do you remember the time when
we two were fond of each other?"
"I don't think I've forgotten it."
"We were as good as engaged, weren't we?"
"I had your promise, Knut Holm, and I trusted you. I waited and
waited, but you never came."
"Yes, it was a pity, I know. But, you see, your father was so furious
when he heard about it, and treated me in such a manner, that I
simply couldn't put up with it. And then, afterwards, there were
those affairs with Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund--but I'm sure I don't
know what we want to go dragging up all that for. We've got along
quietly and comfortably now together these many years; let bygones be
bygones, say I."
"Oh, I've forgiven you everything long ago. But I haven't forgotten,
and I've my own reasons for reminding you of it all to-day for the
first and last time. So go on."
Holm walked up and down restlessly, wondering what Malla Trap could
have in mind. It did not occur to him for the moment that she might
be acting on William's behalf, or he might have been less frank. As
it was, he went on with a touch of forced gaiety:
"Well, well, my dear Malla Trap, if you must have the old story set
out in detail, don't mind me. I'll tell you all about it. I had to
marry Maggie, you see; as a gentleman I could do nothing else. And as
for Mrs. Gronlund, why, seeing she wouldn't give up the boy, I had to
take her as well. Altogether, you see, it's been the boy's fault all
along. If it hadn't been for him, you and I might have fixed things
up after all."
"Best as it was, I dare say. But I ask you now, for the sake of our
old friendship, do not make another woman unhappy."
"But, my dear soul, Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund were as happy as could
be. I really think I've a sort of gift for making women happy, when I
love them."
"Ha, ha! Excuse my laughing, but really, Knut Holm, I can't help it.
You loved me once, or so you said, at least."
"Oh, we were only children then."
"But I can't say you ever made me happy in that way."
"I assure you, Malla Trap, I've been more sorry than you know about
that business."
"Oh, I don't think you ever troubled much to think what a forsaken
woman feels, what misery it means to her."
"Well, honestly, I don't find it easy to put myself in her place, as
it were--no, I can't say---- It must be very unpleasant, of
course.... H'm. But you seem to have got along pretty comfortably all
the same, as far as one can see."
"As far as one can see, yes." Her voice was earnest now. "Has it
never occurred to you to think why Malla Trap grew into the
eccentric, half-foolish creature people turn to smile at now? Do you
know what it means to lose one's whole objective in life? Ah, no, you
wouldn't understand; no one else, perhaps, could understand how a
woman's life can be made empty, aimless, a mere chaos of
existence--though, Heaven be thanked, there have been little rays of
sun-light here and there. And when the whole poor comedy is ended,
why, I hope there may be some few that will spare a kindly thought
for Malla Trap."
"If I knew how I could help you, Malla Trap, I'd do it gladly. But,
honestly, I can't see what you're driving at just now."
"I want your son to be happy, that's all."
"Oh--so that's where the trouble lies, is it? Very sensible of him,
I'm sure, to get you on his side, but if you'll excuse my saying so,
Malla Trap, you'd better leave things alone."
He strode up and down, and the casual, easy-going air he had assumed
gave way to a more serious expression. At last he stopped, and stood
facing her.
"There are critical moments in every man's life," he began, "and,
and--I reckon I've had my share. I've been on the verge of
bankruptcy...."
"In 1875, yes."
"Why--how did you know?"
"Oh, I knew how matters stood then, well enough."
"There wasn't a soul that knew it except C. Henrik Pettersen."
"You think so, do you?"
"There was Hermansen at the bank, he had some idea, I dare say, but
nobody else."
"I knew." She drew off her gloves and smoothed them out on the table.
Holm stood still, looking earnestly at her.
"Was it--was it you, then, that sent me the hundred and fifty
pounds?"
"You've guessed it at last, then? Yes, it was I. I knew you were in
desperate straits, that you would be ruined if you did not get help
from somewhere."
"After I'd treated you so badly?"
"A woman's heart's a strange thing."
"But why did you never tell me before to-day?"
"I should never have told you at all, if it hadn't been for William's
sake. I'm proud of the boy; he's been good to me, and a homeless old
woman's grateful for a little kindness. Well, now you know it--and
now I ask you again to give up Betty Rantzau; there'll be nothing but
trouble come of it, if you go on. And they're fond of each other, I
may as well tell you that at once."
"That boy--that boy! It's as I said before; he's been the trouble all
along."
"This time, at least, it's for your own good."
"That remains to be seen. But I can't get over that business of the
hundred and fifty pounds."
"Say no more about it, Knut Holm."
"And that artful old rascal of a Pettersen; to think I should have
wasted a wreath on his grave every blessed year since he died. Eleven
wreaths at four shillings a time--true, I left out the ribbon last
time, that was so much saved. But he shouldn't have had a single
flower out of me, if I'd known."
"Then it's agreed that you let William marry Betty?
"I never said anything of the sort. But the hundred and fifty--my
head's all going round. How am I to pay you back again? Really, I'm
sorry--you must excuse me...."
And he strode out of the room. Miss Trap sat smoothing out her gloves
on the table. Thinking matters over, she came to the conclusion that
Holm would give in, but the way did not seem quite clear as yet.
A little later William looked in.
"Has he gone?"
"Just this minute."
"What did he say? Did you manage it, Auntie Trap?"
"He's obstinate, my boy, but I think we shall get him round all
right. Your father only wanted to try you, William. He's a strange
man, is Knut Holm."
"Do you think that was all it was?"
"Yes, I should say so. He could hardly find a better way of making
you serious about it, than by playing the part of a rival."
"Oh, we must have Betty up--we've settled it all between us, now."
And before Miss Trap could say a word, he was gone. Two minutes later
he came back, leading Betty by the hand.
"This is Auntie Trap--yes, you must call her Auntie now, for it's she
that's managed it all. Though it was really only a sort of trial
father got up, so Auntie says--he's a wonder, the old man, what?"
"May I call you Auntie as well, Miss Trap? I've never had an aunt
myself, and it's nice. Mother and I have always been alone."
"I know, my child. Call me Auntie by all means, and God bless you
both. It's all to be for the best. I'm sure father was only wanting
to try you. I know Knut Holm of old; he's his own queer ideas at
times, but his heart's in the right place."
And she put her arm round Betty's neck and kissed her.
"Lovely it must be for you two young people on the threshold of the
promised land. But remember, as you look towards it, that it only
comes once in a lifetime--just this one moment, when the mists have
cleared away, and the future is bright before you. I wish you
happiness, children."
She walked out, erect as ever, but with her wise eyes, as it were,
veiled. William and Betty watched her a little way up the street.
They stood hand in hand by the window, looking out over the river;
Betty laid her head on his shoulder. Never before had the river and
the hillside seemed so beautiful as to-day.
There came into Betty's mind the memories of her childhood, like dark
shadows gliding by. The high-walled courtyard in Hamburg and the
rooms in a narrow street in Copenhagen stood out clearest of all. She
shivered a little, and put her arms round her lover's neck.
"Come, William, let us go and tell mother. She will be so happy."
IX
CLAPHAM JUNCTION
Everyone knows the great railway station at Clapham Junction just
outside London, where so many lines meet and cross, and where trains
start for so many different parts.
Our little town, too, had its junction of ways just outside, where
the high road branches out into three, each in a different direction.
It was the accepted meeting-place for all secretly engaged couples,
being a convenient spot that could be reached, accidentally as it
were, by two people happening to come along by different routes.
It was Vindt, the humorist, who had christened it Clapham Junction,
and he was the first to ferret out the fact that Banker Hermansen and
Mrs. Rantzau had been walking together along the road by the shore
several mornings in succession.
Vindt went round to the bank on some pretext of business, but really
to see if the banker was in a softer mood than usual. After all, the
man was no more than human!
But no; there he stood behind the counter, stiff and coldly polite as
ever. Nice sort of man for a lover, thought Vindt.
What could the banker and Mrs. Rantzau have in common?
It was not easy to imagine. Some said he was fascinated by her voice,
others laid the blame on her black eyes; the fact remained that the
pair were more and more frequently together. Vindt had not been down
to Holm's for a long time now; he hated the sight of women in
business, and that Holm should have been one of the first to
introduce a petticoat within the private sanctum among good cigars
and vintage port--it was unpardonable. In the present state of
things, however, he felt desperately in need of someone to talk to.
This affair of Hermansen's was so unparalleled a marvel that he
simply must open his mind to someone about it.
He thrust his head in at the doorway, and discovered Holm standing
behind the counter.
"All alone, old stick-in-the-mud?"
"Not a soul in the place. Come in. Haven't seen you for ages."
"You've been otherwise engaged. Fair charmer inside there now?" He
pointed inquiringly towards the office.
"No, I'm all alone. Come inside, and have a glass of '48 port."
Vindt carefully laid down his heavy, ivory-handled cane, hung his
coat and neck wrap over a chair, and stood with his hands in his
pockets, facing him.
"Well, and what's the trouble now?" said Holm, struggling with a
refractory cork.
"Holm, what do you say: could you imagine me in love?"
"No."
"Well, could you imagine old Hermansen on his knees whispering tender
nothings to a woman?"
"What on earth...? Look here. Where have you been to lunch to-day?"
"I haven't been anywhere to lunch. But I'll tell you where I have
been: I've been out to Clapham Junction, and seen our banker friend
and the Sea Lady...."
"And who?"
"High C Lady; nightingale; your little Donna's mother--Rantzau, isn't
it?"
"Hermansen and Mrs. Rantzau?" Holm looked at him earnestly.
"Aha, had an eye on her yourself, what? Well, you've had some
experience of widows, so you're not a new hand at the business."
"What's all this nonsense you've got hold of to-day, Vindt?"
"Why, I'm sorry to crush the budding flower of love within your
heart, but so it is. You've always come off second-best with
Hermansen--and now he's snapped up Mrs. Rantzau under your nose. A
marriage has been arranged--etc. etc."
Holm's face was flushed--no doubt with his efforts to open the
bottle.
"Come along!" said Vindt. "What about that little drink? I'm sure I
want something to console me."
Holm could not get the cork out. He sat down, and was unusually
silent.
Vindt began to feel conscience-stricken. Surely Holm had not been in
earnest, then?
"Holm! You don't mean to say you're--you're...."
"Hurt, you mean? No, no, my boy--but I've been had all the same....
Well, never mind. What with the Spaniard, and now the widow, I
should say he'd soon find he'd got his 'hands full.'"
"Well, here's to the happy pair!"
"Oh, by all means. But can you tell me, Vindt, how he managed it? I'd
give five bob to have heard him in the act. Hermansen proposing...."
"Oh, that's easy enough. This is the style." Vindt buttoned up his
coat, put his stick under his arm and held his hands behind his back.
"Honoured Madam, allow me to draw upon your indulgence to the extent
of craving your protection. I am not altogether a worthless document,
have never before been discounted for anyone's account, but have lain
untouched as a sole bill of exchange in my portfolio. Having
ascertained that you had established yourself here, I ventured,
honoured Madam, to apply to you, with a view to learn how far you
might be disposed to open a joint account, free of all commission, to
our mutual advantage."
"Bravo, Vindt! I'll take my oath it's the first time in his life he's
ever done anything free of all commission--poor devil, I declare I'm
almost sorry for him myself."
They talked over the affair of the engagement for some time, and Holm
grew so thoroughly cheerful after a while that Vindt was convinced
his heart was not involved.
"Holm, will you do me a favour?" Vindt judged that Holm was now in
the best of tempers, and proposed to utilise the opportunity. He was
anxious to lay hands on a couple of hundred pounds. It was worth
trying at any rate.
"Well, what is it?"
"Give me your signature on the back of a piece of paper, that's all.
A couple of hundred."
"My dear Vindt, I should be sorry to lose an old friend like you."
"Lose an old friend?"
"Why, yes. You see, I've had some experience of backing bills. Take a
couple of instances out of many. You remember young Lieberg? Smart,
well-got-up young fellow, with a taste for the good things of life,
but a trifle thin in the wearing parts. I backed a bill for him, and
we were first-rate friends. At the first renewal I had to remind him,
with all respect, of the paper's existence, and he was mortally
offended--although I offered to lend him interest and payment. And in
the end I had to pay up myself. Well, I thought after that he'd look
on me as his best friend. Whereas now, when I meet him in the street,
he cuts me dead. That's what you get for it!
"Then there was Kautz, the shipowner. He went bankrupt, as you know,
and let me in for L800, but in spite of that I signed, and helped him
to come to an arrangement. A very nice little piece of business it
turned out for him, for the year after he was a richer man than he'd
ever been before, and he gave a thundering big party, invited all the
town--excepting me!"
"My dear Holm, if it ever should happen to me, I'd take care you were
invited too."
"Very good of you, I'm sure. But I'll tell you another little story.
Consul Pram was a big man, with a big position, as you know, but a
jovial soul, and easy to get on with. I've a liking for men of that
sort. Well, it was in 1875, when things were at their worst all
round, for shipping and trade and everything else we get our living
by. I don't believe there was a business in the town that wasn't
eternally worried about how things were to turn out.
"Then one day Pram came up to me. 'Puh,' said he, 'it's hot,' and sat
down, puffing. It was midsummer and pretty warm.
"'You're right there,' said I, putting away my balance-sheet. I'd
just tacked L200 on to the valuation of the premises to make it come
out.
"'Times are pretty bad,' said he.
"'Not for a nabob like you, surely,' said I, feeling a bit anxious
all the same. There was a matter of L150 between us. And I'd no idea
where to rake up any funds beyond.
"'I'm not sure if I'll pull through myself,' said he.
"'Nonsense, Consul--with your credit----'
"'Still....'
"'Hermansen at the bank will let you have all you want. _You're_ safe
enough.'
"'I've lost courage altogether now. It's hopeless to keep going any
longer in this place.'
"'But Lord save us, man, _you_ mustn't go under. If you did, there'd
be more than myself would have to go too.'
"'Well, you'll have to keep me out then, Holm, that's all.'
"Only fancy me backing a bill for a man like Pram when I was barely
hanging on by my eyelids myself.
"Well, it was then the wonderful thing happened. Just in the middle
of the day, after Pram had gone, came a letter enclosing
L150--anonymous! I've never felt so glad in all my life, Vindt--it
was like a message from Providence telling me to keep up my
pluck--and Consul Pram as well!
"That afternoon I went round to his office, and backed a bill for
L500. And next day Pram told me, laughingly, that he had got the bank
to discount it, and Hermansen had said, 'Shouldn't have too much to
do with that Holm if I were you, Pram. Not first-rate paper, really.
But of course I'd take anything with _your_ name on!'
"Some time after I backed another bill for Pram, and helped him in
various little ways, for the man was almost out of his senses with
worry; I'm sure he'd have gone smash if he'd been left to himself. I
met his wife, too, about that time, with the boy. She is a woman of
commanding presence, as you know, and handsome, to look at, anyway.
She gave me her hand most cordially, and said, 'My sincerest thanks,
Mr. Holm, for all you have done for us. _I shall never, never forget
it._'
"Six months after, the trouble was over, and young Pram was getting
up a sledge party, inviting all the young people in the town. Marie's
name was on the list. 'No, leave her out,' said his mother. 'He's
quite a common person really, is that Holm.'
"And later, I understand, young Pram complained to the bank manager
that his father had had dealings some time back with Knut G.
Holm--bill transactions, but in future he would not hear of anything
of the sort.
"The bank manager had good sense enough to answer that there was
hardly any danger now in having dealings with Knut G. Holm!
"Well, my dear Vindt, you can see for yourself that all this doesn't
incline one to further obligations. There are one or two honourable
exceptions, of course, but as a general rule, I must say, gratitude
is a delightful quality, but forgetfulness is far more commonly met
with!
"Still, I've never said no to a friend. One must run the risk of
losing both friend and money, and if by some miracle both can be
kept, why, so much the better. Now, where's your bill?"
Holm took the document, scrutinised it closely, and said:
"But, my dear man, this isn't for you at all?"
"I didn't say it was."
"Syvertsen--Syvertsen--what's he got to do with it?"
"Well, you see, he's a young man reading for the Church, and
consequently in need of cash. So I argued it out like this: an old
sinner like myself ought to keep on good terms with the clergy;
wherefore I undertook to act as first signatory in the present
instance, making myself responsible for the interest. Now I want you
to sign as second, guaranteeing the repayments; in consideration of
which, you might reasonably demand the services of a priest, free of
charge, at your third wedding."
When Vindt had left, Holm fell to pondering over various little
circumstances that he had not particularly noticed before. It
occurred to him now, that for the last fortnight he had had a message
from Mrs. Rantzau almost every day, asking him to come and see her at
nine o'clock precisely, on important business!
And, thinking over this, he called to mind that he had on nearly
every occasion encountered Hermansen at the same time. It could mean
but one thing, she had been using him to bring the banker up to the
scratch. Well--much good might it do her! "She'll get a fine
husband--oh, a remarkably fine husband," muttered Holm to himself
with a sly chuckle.
He walked over to the window and looked across at the bank. It seemed
in some curious way to have grown smaller; the great gilt letters,
"BANK," above the entrance, were no longer impressive.
Strange, how quiet it was in the shop to-day! Not a sound but Garner
counting over the cash, putting the ten-shilling notes in bundles of
ten, and the small silver coins in paper rolls.
Miss Rantzau was away, and had not even sent a message.
"Have you seen anything of my son to-day, Garner?"
Garner laughed and showed his teeth. "He--he--no. Isn't he down at
the quay, then? No, I don't know...."
Holm perceived that there was something in the wind, and refrained
from further inquiries.
A little later the maid came in: would Mr. Holm please come upstairs,
there was a lady to see him.
It was Mrs. Rantzau. She was all in black and looked very handsome
indeed. Holm could not help admiring her magnificent figure, and
thought to himself that Hermansen certainly seemed to have made a
better bargain here than recently with the Spaniard.
"I dare say you are surprised to see me here now," Mrs. Rantzau
began. "But exceptional circumstances...." she flushed, and broke off
in some confusion.