"I spoke to your father, child; I spoke to him on the subject often. But
he was so tender-hearted; he always found some excuse."
Joergen entered with the doctor.
"If any complication arises, Miss Krog, the worst may happen."
"Will he be paralysed?" asked Mrs. Dawes.
The doctor evaded the question; he merely said: "Quiet is all
important."
Silence followed this utterance.
"Miss Krog, I cannot allow you to nurse your father. There ought to be
two trained nurses."
Mary said nothing. Mrs. Dawes began to cry again. "This is a sad change
of days."
The doctor took leave, and was escorted downstairs by Joergen Thiis. When
Joergen returned, he asked softly: "Shall I go too--or can I be of any
use?"
"Oh, do not leave us!" wailed Mrs. Dawes.
Joergen looked at Mary, who said nothing; nor did she look up. She was
weeping silently.
"You know, Miss Krog," said he respectfully, "that there is no one to
whom I would so willingly be of service."
"We know that, we know that!" sobbed Mrs. Dawes.
Mary had raised her head, but, Mrs. Dawes having spoken, she said
nothing.
When she left the room soon afterwards, Joergen was just opening his
door, which was next to Mary's. He stood for a moment with the door wide
open, so that she saw the packed portmanteau behind him. She stopped.
"You are going?" she said.
"Yes," answered he.
"It will be very quiet here now."
Joergen expected more, but no more came. Then he said:
"The shooting season begins immediately. I had intended to ask your
father's permission to shoot in his woods."
"If you consider mine sufficient, you have it."
"Thank you, Miss Krog! You will allow me, too, to look in upon you
sometimes, I hope?" He took her hand and bowed deeply over it.
Then he went in to take leave of Mrs. Dawes. With her he stayed ten
minutes at least, coming out just as Mary was crossing the passage to
her father's room.
As she stood by the bed Anders began to move, and opened his eyes. She
knelt down. "Father!"
He seemed to be collecting his thoughts; then he tried to speak, but
could not. She said quickly: "We know, Father; we know everything. Don't
trouble about it! We'll get on beautifully all the same."
Her father's eyes showed that he took in what she said, though slowly.
He tried to lift his hand, and, finding that he could not, looked at her
with an expression of painful surprise; she lay down close to him,
kissed him and wept.
Anders improved, however, with astonishing rapidity. Was it Mary's
presence and untiring attention which helped him? The nurse said that it
was.
Then came a time when, though still indefatigable in her attention to
the two invalids, she learned to manage both house and farm. She took
the accounts and the superintendence into her own hands. It was a task
she enjoyed, for she had the gift of order and management. Mrs. Dawes
was astonished.
No anxiety for the future did Mary display, no regret for the pleasures
of the past. To those who pitied her she said that it was indeed sad
that her father and Mrs. Dawes were ill, but that except for this she
was perfectly contented.
* * * * *
One unusually warm day in the middle of August she had been very busy
since early morning, looking forward all the time to a plunge in the sea
as soon as her work was done.
Between five and six they ran down, Mary and little Nanna. They both
went into the bathing-house, for it was one of Nanna's greatest
pleasures to attend to Mary's beautiful hair; to-day it was to hang
loose. After taking it down, Nanna ran up to the big stone on the ridge,
to keep a look-out on both sides. Mary meant to go into the water with
nothing on, that she might enjoy her bath thoroughly.
She swam out at once to the island. From there she could herself see the
inlet on both sides and the roads. No one anywhere, no danger--therefore
back again!
The sea caressed and upheld her; upon the arms that clove it the sun
played; the land in front lay in the repleteness of a rich aftermath;
sea-birds rocked on the waves, others screamed in the air above Mary's
head. "Imagine that I was afraid of being alone--!" thought she.
When she approached the shore she did not leave the water, but lay on
her back and rested; then took a few strokes and rested again. The beach
looked inviting; she lay down on it in the blazing sun, her head
supported on a stone, her hair floating. Oh, how delicious! But
something suddenly warned her to look up. She could not be troubled.
Yes, she ought to look up to where Nanna was sitting. No, she would not;
Nanna was on the look-out. Yet the suggestion had put an end to her
enjoyment. When she rose to walk along to the bathing-house steps, she
saw behind the big stone--Joergen Thiis with his gun over his shoulder!
The little girl was standing on the top of the stone motionless, staring
at him as if she were spell-bound.
The blood rushed through Mary's veins in hot waves of fury and loathing.
Is he utterly shameless? Or has he gone out of his mind? To outward
appearance she behaved as if she saw nothing; she plunged into the sea
and swam to the steps, walked calmly up them, and disappeared.
But her breath was coming hard and short, and she was so hot that she
forgot to dry herself, forgot to dress. Hotter and hotter she grew,
until she was positively boiling with rage and desire for vengeance. The
polite Joergen Thiis had dared to insult her as she had never in her life
been insulted!
Her mind wrestled with the thought of this senseless, dishonourable
surprisal until she became involved in a train of ideas which carried
her away. She was standing again in front of the acrobat's powerful
body; Alice's knowing eyes were upon her. She trembled--then screams
from the child reached her ear. In her excitement she almost screamed
back. What could it mean? There was no window on that side. She dared
not look out at the door, for she was naked. Never had she dressed in
such haste, but for this very reason everything went wrong, and time
passed. She would not appear before Joergen Thiis half dressed.
Just as she was ready to open, she heard the pitapat of little Nanna's
steps on the bridge from the bank. Mary tore the door open; the child
came rushing in, hid her head in her mistress's dress, and cried and
sobbed so that she could not utter a word.
Mary managed to soothe her, principally by promising that she should be
allowed to dress her hair. Then Nanna told that before she had noticed
anything, Mr. Thiis was standing behind the stone. She had been sitting
singing and had not heard him. He made threatening signs to her. Oh, how
frightened she had been--for he looked so dreadful! oh, so dreadful! The
moment Mary went into the house, he had rushed straight towards it.
"Joergen Thiis?"
"Then I screamed as loud as I could scream! _That_ stopped him. He
turned and was coming back to me, but I jumped off the stone and ran
into the wood----" Here words failed her; she hid her face in Mary's
skirts again and sobbed.
This was worse than ever! Mary at first felt totally unable to
comprehend.
Then it gradually dawned upon her that Joergen must be another man than
she took him for--that he had violent passions--that he had the daring
to act with utter recklessness. What if he had come...?
Conscious of her pride and strength, she knew that it would have meant
banishment for ever--impossibly anything else.
On the way home she had to send Nanna on in front, because she herself
felt hardly able to set one foot before the other, so overpowering were
her thoughts.
How could a man control himself in daily intercourse when he was
possessed by such passionate desire? It must have been accumulating for
ages, or he would never have succumbed to this assault upon himself, or
made this assault upon her.
Had he been burning with desire all these years? His homage, his
respect, his unwearying attention--was it all smoke from the
subterranean crater, which had now suddenly ejected red-hot stones and
ashes?
So Joergen Thiis was dangerous? He did not lose by this in Mary's
estimation; he gained! It was praiseworthy, the compulsion which he had
exercised over himself--from reverence for her. Ought she to be so angry
with him because temptation had set loose the rebellious powers which he
had chained?
All the rest of the day, and even when she was undressing, her mind was
busy with these thoughts. Next morning she determined that a stop must
be put to this. It was a stirring of something which she had suppressed
once before, and which must not be allowed to disturb the new order of
her life. Therefore she applied herself more diligently than ever to her
tasks, and added to their number. She undertook a thorough examination
of her father's books and loose memoranda--of the latter there were far
too many--in order to find out the general state of his affairs. He
must have Norwegian investments, and he could not possibly have spent
all the money that had been sent from America. She was, however, unable
to find what she was looking for. She could not trouble her father, and
Mrs. Dawes knew nothing.
But, close as Mary's application to business was, thoughts of yesterday
managed to insinuate themselves. Joergen's intention had, of course, been
to bathe, and to come up and call afterwards. After what had happened he
could not do so. Would he ever come again? Would he do so without being
invited? He had effectually damaged his own cause. She heard shots in
the woods near at hand on the following days; and other people mentioned
having heard shooting farther off. But he did not come on the second
day, nor yet on the third, nor on the fourth. Of this she approved.
Her thoughts running much on the woods and the heights, her steps also
took that direction one day before dinner. The sudden change of weather
which is usual in Norway in the second half of August had taken place.
It was cold now; she felt the climb with the north wind playing round
her very refreshing. She chose the ascent a little below the houses; it
was the easiest. She went up quickly, for she was accustomed to the
climb and was longing to be at the top, standing in the wind and
looking out over the stormy sea. Even from the first knoll she had an
enjoyable view of the meadows, where the farm-servants were spreading
out the second crop of hay to dry, of the bay, of the islands, of the
sea, black to-day, and bearing on its breast numbers of sailing vessels
and one or two steamers. Overhead the crows were making a terrible
clamour; a trial was unmistakably going on. She saw one after the other
cleave the air and disappear farther along the ridge, towards the north.
The noise became louder the higher she climbed. She hurried; it might be
possible to save the criminal. A cold shiver of agitation ran through
her. She thought that when she reached the next height she would be
certain to see the birds. Instead she saw, as soon as her head cleared
the ridge, a man lying flat on the ground some distance off to the
north, directly above the house.
It was Joergen Thiis! Mary promptly lowered her head again; then the joy
of revenge took possession of her, and she mounted quickly,
determinedly. Joergen saw her, jumped up, looking agitated and ashamed,
pulled off his cap, put it on again, seemed not to know where to look or
to turn. Mary approached slowly, thoroughly enjoying his embarrassment.
While still some distance off she called: "So this is your idea of
sport! Are you shooting our hens to-day?" Then, as she came nearer: "You
have no dog with you? No, of course not; you can shoot hens without a
dog. Or perhaps you have none?"
"Yes; but I am not shooting to-day. I have finished."
This quiet, inoffensive answer, which he gave without daring to look at
her, produced a revulsion of feeling in Mary. No, she would not be
unkind to him! She had heard enough of his uncle's tyranny.
The crows were clamouring louder than ever.
"Listen! They are condemning some poor wretch! I wonder you don't go and
help him."
"Indeed I ought to!" cried Joergen, happy to escape. He picked up his gun
and ran, she following, up a short ascent and then along a path on the
level. Upon and around two old trees the grey administrators of justice
were raving; there were hundreds of them. But the moment they saw a man
with a gun, they scattered, cawing, in every direction. Their task was
accomplished.
Between two large trees lay an unusually large crow, featherless and
bleeding, in its death struggle. Joergen was going to take hold of it.
"No, don't touch it!" called Mary, and turned away.
She went straight down again as she had come. Hearing Joergen follow, she
stopped.
"You will come with me, won't you, and dine?"
He thanked her. They walked on together silently until they came to
where he had been lying. Then he hastily asked:
"How are things going at home?"