The smoke from the chimney curled into the air. The roofs with their
glazed blue tiles looked affluently comfortable. The large gardens on
both sides with their gravel walks lay like striped wings outstretched
from the houses. The whole had an air of life, as if it might rise into
the air at any moment.
"Had you been lying long here?" Mary asked unmercifully; she regarded
Joergen's mood as a species of possession.
He did not answer. She set off on the last, very steep part of the
descent.
"Shall I help you?"
"No, thank you; I have come down here oftener than you."
It was a silent repast. Joergen always ate slowly, but never had he
eaten so slowly as to-day. Mary despatched each course quickly, and then
sat and watched him, making an occasional remark, which was politely
answered. His eyes, which generally swept over her like waves, ready to
draw her in, had difficulty to-day in rising higher than the plate
before them. Stopping suddenly, he said: "Are you not well?"
"Yes, thank you; but I have had enough."
A quarter of an hour later Joergen came out of Anders Krog's room. Mary
had just left Mrs. Dawes's, and was opening the door of her own. Joergen
said:
"It seems to me that your father is much better, Miss Krog."
"Yes, he can speak a little now, and also move his arm a little."
Joergen evidently did not hear.
"Is this your room?--I have never seen it."
She moved out of the way; he looked, and looked again.
"Won't you go in?"
"May I?"
"Certainly."
He approached the threshold and crossed it slowly, she following. Then
he stood perfectly still, breathing deeply, she at his side. Was the
room hung with lace? He could not collect his impressions ... the bed
and the furniture, white with blue, or blue with white; Cupids on the
ceiling; paintings, amongst them one of her beautiful mother, with
flowers in front of it ... and a fragrance--exhaled not by the flowers
alone, but by Mary herself and her belongings. She was there, beside
him, in her blue dress with the elbow-sleeves. In the midst of this
purity of fragrance and colour he felt ashamed of himself--so ashamed
that he could have rushed out. He could not control his feeling; his
breast heaved; he trembled, and was on the point of bursting into tears.
Then two white arms gleamed, and he heard something said--blue and white
and white and blue, the words also. The door was closed behind him--it
must have been done to conceal his weakness. The two white arms gleamed
again, and he heard distinctly: "Why, Joergen! Joergen!" He felt a hand on
his arm, and sank on to a chair. She had really said "Joergen"--said it
twice. Now she stroked his forehead and smoothed the hair back from it,
with a touch soft as a flower-petal. It loosed something; everything
hard and painful melted under her hand and flowed away, leaving an
indescribable feeling of warmth. She who now bent over him was, in
truth, the first who had helped him since he was a child. He had been
so lonely! There was confidence in him in the touch of her hand. How
undeserved! But how it comforted him! He dreamed that he, too, was good,
was under the control of beneficent powers. The white and the blue
spread a canopy over him. Underneath it these large, sympathetic eyes
drew his soul into theirs. He said apologetically and very low: "I could
not bear it any longer." What it was he had not been able to bear, she
understood, for she immediately moved away.
"Mary!" he whispered. The word fell involuntarily from his lips; he was
thinking aloud. It alarmed him, it alarmed her. She moved farther away;
a confused look came into her eyes; something as it were failed her. He
saw this--and before she could foresee, before he himself knew what he
was doing, he was beside her, embracing her, pressing her close to him.
Excited by the feeling of her body against his, he kissed, kissed,
wherever his lips reached. She bent away from him, now to this side, now
to that, upon which he kissed her neck, round and round. She felt that
she was in danger. She had only one arm free, but with it she pushed him
from her, at the same time bending her body so far back that she was on
the point of falling. This brought him above her; desire awoke, he
would take advantage of the situation. But he had to loosen his right
arm to grasp her with. In doing so he released her left arm; she set it
against his breast with all her strength, and was now able to turn
sidewards and rise to her feet. Their eyes met, fierce and flaming.
Neither spoke. They were breathing short and hard.
"Mary!" screamed some one outside. It was Mrs. Dawes. Mrs. Dawes, who
was supposed to be unable to leave her bed, stood in the passage.
"Mary!" she screamed once again, as if she were about to faint. Both
rushed out. Mrs. Dawes was standing in her night-dress outside her open
door, leaning against the wall. She was in the act of falling when
Joergen Thiis sprang forward and caught her. One servant after the other
rushed upstairs--even little Nanna came. Joergen stood supporting Mrs.
Dawes until, with their united strength, they lifted her and carried her
in. She was incapable of setting her foot to the ground again. Her eyes
were closed; whether she was in a faint or not they did not know. She
was a terrible weight. It was all they could do to get her across the
threshold. Then they proceeded slowly towards the bed; but the worst was
to come, the lifting her in. Every time the heavy body reached the edge
of the bed, the legs refused to follow, and down the unfortunate lady
slipped again. She did not help herself in the least, she only groaned;
and before they could get a proper grip, she was on the floor. When they
had once again raised the weighty mass, but not far enough for it to
hold itself in position unsupported, they stood helpless, for they had
no idea how to manoeuvre it farther. Nanna burst out laughing and ran
out of the room. Joergen shot a furious glance after her. This was too
much even for Mary. Three minutes ago she had been engaged in a
desperate struggle--now she was seized with such an inclination to laugh
that she, too, had to run away. She was standing outside with her
handkerchief to her mouth, doubled up with laughter, when the nurse came
out of her father's room; he wished to know what was going on. Mary went
to him. She could hardly tell him for laughing--tell him, that is, about
Mrs. Dawes's position, and Joergen's and the servants' struggles. Her
father tried to ask why Mrs. Dawes had been in the passage. This stopped
Mary's laughter. One of the maids came from the other room and said that
Mrs. Dawes was now in bed, and that she wished to speak to Miss Krog.
Joergen was standing at the foot of the bed. Mrs. Dawes lay groaning and
weeping and calling for Mary. No sooner did Mary appear at the door than
she began:
"What was happening to you, child? Sudden terror seized me. What was
going on?"
Mary went up to the bed without looking at Joergen. She knelt down and
put her arm round her old friend's neck.
"Oh, Aunt Eva!" she said, and laid her head on the old lady's breast.
Presently she began to cry.
"What is it? What is it? What is making you so unhappy?" moaned Mrs.
Dawes, stroking the beautiful hair.
At last Mary looked up. Joergen Thiis had gone; but she still kept
silence.
"I have never felt like that," began Mrs. Dawes again, "except when
something dreadful was happening."
Mary kept silence.
"Had Joergen Thiis anything to do with it?"
Mary gave her a look.
"Ah! that is what I feared. But remember, my child, that he has loved
you since the first time he saw you--you, and no one else. That means a
great deal. And never once so much as hinted it to you--has he?"
Mary shook her head.
"It's no small thing, that either. It shows strength of character. He
has served you and he has honoured you--don't be too hard on him. Not
till now, when you are poor, does he dare--but what was it?"
Mary waited a little; then she said:
"First I thought he was ill. Then he suddenly lost his senses."
"Oh, I could tell you something. I too.... Yes, yes, yes!" She seemed
lost in thought. Then she murmured: "Those who go for years...."
But Mary cut her short. "Don't let us talk any more about it," she said,
rising.
"No. Only it is...."
"No more on that subject, please!" repeated Mary, walking to the window.
Standing there she heard Mrs. Dawes say: "You must let me tell you that
he has spoken to me--asked me if he dared offer himself to you. He can
imagine no greater happiness than to help you when we are no longer
able. But he thinks that you are too unapproachable."
Mary made an involuntary movement. Mrs. Dawes saw it.
"Don't be too hard on him, Mary. Do you know, child, that your father
and I think ..."
"Now, Aunt Eva!" Mary turned sharply towards her--not as if she were
angry, but yet in such a manner as to check the words on the old lady's
lips.
Mary remained in the room. She would not risk meeting Joergen Thiis. When
she was doing some small service for Mrs. Dawes, the latter said: "You
know, child, that Joergen is to have Uncle Klaus's money?" As Mary did
not answer, she ventured to go on. "And he believes that Uncle Klaus
will help him if he marries." This, too, Mary allowed to pass unnoticed.
When there was no longer any danger, she went to her own room. There she
recalled the scene from beginning to end. Her cheeks burned, but she was
astonished that, dreadful though it had been, she was not really angry.
Just as she was thinking: What will happen next? there was a gentle
knock at the door. Now she felt angry, and inclined to jump up and turn
the key. Presently, however, she said: "Come in!" The door was opened
and closed, but she did not look round from where she sat in her big
chair. Gently, humbly, Joergen came forward and knelt down on one knee in
front of her, hiding his face with his hands. There was nothing in the
action that offended her. He was strongly agitated. She looked down upon
the handsome head with the soft hair, and her eyes fell on the long,
true musician's fingers. Something refined about him conciliated her.
But a mournful: "Shall I go!" was all that came from him. She waited a
little, then in a low voice answered: "Yes." He let his hands drop,
seized one of hers and pressed his lips to it--long, but reverently;
then rose and left the room.
During the kiss, reverential as it was, a feeling of excitement passed
through Mary, of the same nature as that which, when he kissed and
kissed again, had made her almost faint away. She sat still, long after
he had gone, wondering at this. She once more recalled every particular
of their struggle, and shuddered. "Why am I not angry with him?"
Another knock was heard. It was the maid with a request from Mrs. Dawes
that Mary would come to her.
"You have let him go, child?"
Mrs. Dawes was in real distress. In her agitation she sat up, supporting
herself on one arm. Her cap was awry upon her grey, short hair; the fat
neck was redder than usual, as if she were too hot.
"Why did you let him go?" she repeated.
"It was his own wish."
"How can you say such a thing, child? He has been here complaining. He
would give his life to stay! You don't understand in the least. You do
nothing but reject his advances, and torture him."
She lay down again, in exhaustion and despair. The word "torture"
produced a momentary comic impression on Mary; but she herself had the
feeling that she ought to have spoken to Joergen before she let him go.
That he was to go, she was quite determined.
On these events followed rather a hard time for them all. A change in
the weather affected Anders Krog unfavourably; he was unable to take
sufficient nourishment, and had more difficulty in speaking. Mary was
much with him; and at these times his eyes rested on her and followed
her so persistently that she almost felt afraid.
Mrs. Dawes sent small notes in to him. She could not give up her
writing, even in bed. He looked long at Mary each time one of these
notes came; so she guessed what they were about.
Mrs. Dawes said to her one day: "You over-estimate your own powers when
you believe that you can live here alone with us."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that, tired as you may be of society in spring, when winter
comes it will exercise its attraction again. You are too much accustomed
to it."
Mary made no answer at the time, but some days later--the weather had
long been bad, and she had not been out--she said to Mrs. Dawes: "You
may be right in believing that the life we have lived all these years
has taken strong hold of me."
"Stronger than you have any idea of, child."
"But what would you have me do? I cannot leave here. Nor do I wish to."
"No. But you could have a change sometimes."
"How?"
"You know quite well what I mean, child. If you married Joergen, he would
live sometimes here with you, and you sometimes at Stockholm with him."
"A curious married life!"
"I don't believe you can combine the two things in any better way."
"Which two things?"
"What life demands of you and what you are accustomed to."
Mary felt that what Mrs. Dawes had just said expressed her father's
wish. She knew that what gave him most anxiety was her future, and that
a marriage with Joergen which ensured Uncle Klaus's protection would give
him a feeling of security. It oppressed her to think how little regard
to her father's wishes she had hitherto shown.
These days, with their deliberations, struck her as resembling the
recitative in an opera, the part which connects two important actions.
Now that the season was advancing, she felt like a captive when she
looked out across the bay. When she stood on the hill, watching autumn's
stern entrance in foaming breakers, she knew that it was bringing
imprisonment for the winter. Her spirit stirred in rebellion; she was
accustomed to something so different.
Something in her blood stirred too. Her tranquillity was gone. As a
memory, Joergen was not repellent. The atmosphere which he brought with
him was actually sympathetic.
That her father had been incapacitated by an apoplectic shock, that
Joergen had been on the spot when this occurred, that he was her father's
choice--was there not something in this that linked them together? Was
there not fate in it?
To make her appearance at Joergen's side in Stockholm,[C] and afterwards
to be sent farther afield--could there be a more fitting conclusion to
her life of travel, a better opportunity of turning to advantage all
that she had learned during the course of it?
[C] The Foreign Office of Sweden was at that time the Foreign
Office of Norway also.
Uncle Klaus should help them--help them generously. She knew her power
over Uncle Klaus.
"After all, Aunt Eva dear," she said one day when she sat chatting
beside Mrs. Dawes's bed; "I think you may write to Joergen."
* * * * *
Mary herself was standing on the pier when the steamer came in. It was
Saturday afternoon; all that could do so were leaving town to enjoy the
last days of autumn in the country. The weather was beautiful; in the
south of Norway it can be so till far on in September. Mary was dressed
in blue and carried a blue parasol, which she waved to Joergen and some
of her girl friends who were standing beside him. All on board moved
towards the gangway to watch the meeting.
Joergen felt, as soon as he reached her side, that he must be cautious.
He divined that she had come to meet him here in order that their
meeting might not be private.
On the way up to the house they talked of the swallows, which were now
assembling for their departure--of the farm-overseer, who had just shot
a huge eagle--of the writing-board which Mrs. Dawes had had
constructed--of the good aftermath, of the price of fruit and turnips.
In the hall she left him with a short "Excuse me!" and hurried
upstairs. The boy who was carrying Joergen's portmanteau had followed
them in; Joergen and he stood still, not knowing where to go. Then Mary
called from above: "This way, please!" Opening the door of the visitors'
room next her own, she told the boy to take the portmanteau in there. To
Joergen she said: "Shall we go and see Father?" She led the way. The
nurse was not in the room. Probably it was to send her away that Mary
had run up first.
A light kindled in the sick man's eyes as he saw Joergen enter. As soon
as the door was closed, Mary went up to her father, bent over him, and
said: "Joergen and I are engaged now, Father."
All the affection and happiness that a human face can express beamed
from Anders Krog's. Smiling, Mary turned towards Joergen, who, pale and
agitated, was prepared to rush forward and embrace her. But he felt that
though his astonishment, his gratitude, and his adoration were quite
acceptable to her, she desired no such manifestation of them. This did
not detract from his happiness. He met her smiling eyes with an
expression of intense, perfect delight. He pressed the hand which Anders
Krog could move; he looked into his tearful eyes, his own filling. But
no word was spoken until Mary said: "Now we must go to Aunt Eva."
With a feeling of triumph she led the way. He followed, admiring. His
heart was full of many feelings, not least among them admiration of the
magnanimity with which she had forgiven. He thought: Out in the passage
she will turn round, and then ... But she went straight to Mrs. Dawes's
door and knocked.
When Mrs. Dawes saw Joergen, she clapped her fat hands, tugged at her
cap, and tried to sit up, but could not for excitement. She fell back
again, wept, blessed them, and stretched out her arms. Joergen allowed
himself to be embraced, but would not kiss her.
As soon as sensible conversation became possible, Mary said: "Don't you
think too, Aunt Eva, that we ought to go and call on Uncle Klaus
to-morrow?"
"Most certainly I do, my child! most certainly! Why should there be any
delay?"
Joergen was radiant. Mary retired, that the two might have a confidential
talk.
When Joergen and she met again, he understood that the watchword was:
"Look, but do not touch!" This was hard; but he acknowledged it to be
only just that one who had presumed as he had should be compelled to
control himself. Mary intended to be her own mistress.
In her triumphant mood she was more beautiful than ever. It seemed to
Joergen an act of grace when she addressed him as "thou." And she
condescended no further. He went on hoping, but she gave no more--not
the whole of that day. He betook himself to the piano and there poured
forth his lament. Mary opened the doors, so that Mrs. Dawes might hear
the music. "Poor boy!" said Mrs. Dawes.
Next day Mary did not come downstairs until it was time to set off on
their expedition to Uncle Klaus's.
"You are _la grande dame_ to-day, and no mistake!" said Joergen,
inspecting her admiringly. She was in her most elegant Parisian walking
costume. "Is it to make an impression on Uncle Klaus?"
"Partly. But it is Sunday, you know.--Tell me," and she suddenly became
serious; "does Uncle Klaus know about father's misfortune?"
"He knows about his illness, if you mean that."
"No; I mean the cause of it?"
"That I can't say. I came straight from home. I have told nothing--even
at home."
Of this Mary approved. Consequently they were on the pleasantest, most
confidential terms, both during the walk down to the steamer and on
board. There they sat talking in whispers of their wedding, of furlough
for the first month after it, of life in Stockholm, of her visits to him
there, of his visit to Krogskogen at Christmas, of a trip to Christiania
now--in short, there was not a cloud in their sky.
They found Uncle Klaus in his smoke-filled den, where they rather
imagined than saw him. He himself was quite startled when Mary in all
her glory appeared before him. He led them hurriedly into the large,
stiff drawing-room. Even before they were seated, Joergen said: "We have
come, Uncle, to tell you--"
He got no farther, for Uncle Klaus saw in their radiant faces the news
which they brought.
"My heartiest congratulations!" The tall man bowed, offering a hand to
each. "Yes--every one says that you are the handsomest couple ever seen
in this town. For," he added, "we engaged you to each other long ago."
Hardly were they seated before his face became gloomy. He looked
compassionately at Mary. "But your father, my poor child!"
"Father is much better now," she answered evasively. Uncle Klaus looked
searchingly at her. "But he can never...." He stopped; he was not
capable of putting his thought into words; neither was Mary. They sat
silent.
When they began to speak again, it was of the unusually bad times. It
seemed as if there were to be no end to them. Investments were yielding
no interest, the shipping trade was in a bad way, there were no new
undertakings, money was not forthcoming. Whilst they were talking, Uncle
Klaus looked several times at Joergen as if he would put more questions
but for his presence. Mary understood, and made a sign to Joergen, who
rose and asked permission to go, as he had an appointment with some
friends in town. It was, thus, tacitly agreed upon between Mary and him
that she should have a private interview with Uncle Klaus. But what was
it Uncle Klaus wished to speak to her about? She was most curious.
As soon as the door closed behind Joergen, the old man, with an anxious
look, began: "Is it true, my poor child, that your father has had great
losses in America?"
"He has lost everything," Mary replied.
Klaus jumped up, pale with the shock.
"Lost everything?"
He stared at her, open-mouthed and turning purple. Then exclaiming:
"Good Lord! This is a simple enough explanation of the shock!" began to
march up and down the room as if no one else were present. The wide
trousers twisted themselves round his legs; he waved his long arms.
"He has always been a confiding simpleton! an absolute fool! Fancy
having a fortune like that invested in another man's business and never
looking after it! What a damned--" Here he stopped suddenly and asked in
astonishment: "What do you mean to marry upon--?"
Mary had felt herself mortally insulted long before this question came.
To behave thus in her presence--to speak thus of her father in her
hearing! Nevertheless she answered archly and with her sweetest smile:
"On our expectations from you, Uncle Klaus!"
Klaus's astonishment was beyond all measure. She tried to moderate it
before it found vent; she joked--said in English that she felt
dreadfully sorry for him, as she knew what a poor man he was! But he
paid no more attention to her than a bear to the twitter of birds.
Out it came at last. "It is like that scoundrel Joergen to speculate upon
me!" Marching up and down again, faster than before, he continued: "Ha,
ha! I might have known it! Whenever anything goes wrong, it is I who
must come to the rescue--and at this moment, too, when I am hardly
earning my bread! I never knew anything so impudent in my life!" He did
not see her, he did not see anything. The rich man was accustomed to
give free vent to his petulance, anger, insolence. "Joergen
deserves--confound him!--that I should stop the allowance I give him! He
does nothing but ask for more. And now I am to----ha, ha! It's just like
him!"
Mary listened, pale as death. Never before had she been so humiliated;
never had any human being treated her otherwise than with the deference
paid to a privileged person.
But she did not lose her head. "I keep Father's accounts now," she said
coldly; "and I see from them that there is money of his in your hands."
"Yes," said Klaus, without stopping and without looking at Mary; "oh,
yes--two hundred thousand kroner or so. But if you keep the accounts,
you also see that at present these investments hardly yield anything."
"It is not so bad as that," she replied.
"Well--what about them?" asked he, standing still. An idea suddenly
occurred to him: "Has Joergen asked you to sell out?"
"Joergen has asked nothing of me," Mary said, and rose to her feet.
As she stood there tall, pale, stately, facing him so bravely, Klaus
felt himself worsted. He could do nothing but stare. When she said: "I
am sorry that I did not know before what kind of man you are!" all his
superiority vanished. He felt stupid and helpless, unable to answer,
unable even to move. He allowed her to go--the very last thing he
intended!
He looked out at the window and saw her sweep past towards the
market-place. What a vision of proud beauty she was!
When, in course of time, Joergen came to fetch Mary, or rather to stay to
dinner there with her--for he was certain that they would be invited--an
even more violent explosion of wrath awaited him; because now Uncle
Klaus was extremely dissatisfied with himself too.
"Why the devil did you not come alone? You were afraid!--And you wanted
her to sell shares now, when they are worth nothing--like the cursedly
extravagant, reckless fellow you always have been!"
Uncle Klaus was wrong; but Joergen knew him--knew that he must not
answer. He slunk away and joined Mary at the house in the market-place,
even more wretched than the day when she found him on the ridge, gazing
down into the lost paradise. She herself had been weeping with anger and
disappointment; but there was abundance of elasticity in her; now came
the rebound. Their fall from the triumphant elevation of half-an-hour
ago had been so precipitous that when Joergen's misery was added as a
finishing touch, the whole became ridiculous. She laughed so heartily,
so exhilaratingly, that even Joergen was cured. A quarter of an hour
later the two went out to order a good dinner, with champagne. They had
agreed to take a walk whilst it was being prepared. But no sooner did
they feel the delicious fresh air, than Joergen rushed upstairs again and
telephoned to Krogskogen that they were coming out to dine there. It was
a good two hours' walk by the new coast-road--how they would enjoy it!
They set off at a rapid pace. It was the very weather for walking, this
bright, cool autumn day with the fresh breeze.
The road followed the coast line, rounding all the rocky headlands; they
looked forward to the constant changes--from shore to height, from
height to shore. On the sea, dark blue to-day, sailing ships and columns
of smoke were to be seen, far as the eye could reach. It being Sunday,
there were also pleasure-boats out, some gliding about among the
islands, others venturing out to the open sea.
At their quick pace, the two young people were soon in the outskirts of
the town. They passed a pretty little house in a garden.
"Who lives there?" asked Mary, admiring it.
"Miss Roey, the doctor," answered Joergen, immediately adding: "Our
annoyance and disappointment made me forget to tell you that I met Frans
Roey in town."
Unconsciously Mary stood still; involuntarily she blushed. "Frans Roey?"
she repeated, looking hard at him--then walked on without waiting for an
answer.
"He is here to inspect the operations at the harbour. You know that
Irgens is dead."
"The engineer? is he dead?"
"They say now that Captain Roey will probably take his place."
"Is it work for a man like him?"
"Many are no doubt asking the same question--asking what brings him
here," laughed Joergen.
Mary looked at him and he at Mary. Then he went nearer to her. "But now
he comes too late."
He had expected an understanding glance in answer--possibly with a
little happiness in it. She walked on without looking at him, and
without speaking.
They were silent for a long time, walking fast in the refreshing autumn
breeze. At last she turned towards him, with the intention of giving him
a pleasant surprise.
"Do you know, Joergen, that Father has two hundred thousand kroner
invested in Uncle Klaus's business?"
"He has two hundred and fifty thousand," Joergen answered.
She was much surprised--in the first place by Joergen's knowing, in the
second, by the fifty thousand.
"Uncle Klaus himself said two hundred thousand."
"Yes, your father has that sum invested in Uncle's ships and commercial
enterprises. But lately, before he was taken ill, he sent Uncle fifty
thousand more, which he had lying idle."
"How do you know?"
"Uncle told me."
"There is no note of this last sum in father's books."
"No; your father probably did not take the trouble to enter it; he was
not in the habit of doing so. Besides"--here Joergen paused--"are you in
possession of all your father's business papers?"
Into this subject Mary would not enter; she knew that the question was a
natural one; but how in the world did Joergen----? Perhaps through Mrs.
Dawes. What he had told her, however, rejoiced her. She stood still;
there was something she wanted to say. But the wind caught up her
skirts, unloosed some of her hair, and blew about her scarf.
"How perfectly lovely you look!" Joergen exclaimed.
"But Joergen--then there is nothing in the way!"
"We can marry, you mean?"
"Yes!" and off she started.
"No, dear. The shares are yielding almost nothing just now."
"What does that matter? We'll risk it, Joergen!" she cried, radiant with
health and courage.
"Without Uncle's consent?" asked Joergen in a despondent tone.