Instead of answering directly, Joergen began mournfully: "I wish you
knew, Mary, what I have had to bear from Uncle, from the day he adopted
me--the things he has demanded of me, the things he has persecuted me
for. To this very day he treats me like a naughty schoolboy. The worst
of his bad temper is vented upon me."
The mixture of unhappiness and bitterness depicted on his face led Mary
involuntarily to exclaim: "Poor Joergen--now I begin to understand!"
They walked on. She reflected that Joergen's power of self-control had
been acquired in a hard school; there he had also learned the art of
concealment. She could not but admire his tenacity of purpose. What had
it not accomplished! Think of his music alone! It, however, had been a
great consolation to him. Now she understood his extreme politeness; now
she understood his sentimentality; she understood what had made him so
exacting and severe with those under his command.
She saw that she herself had probably added to his unhappiness. His
long, silent love for her had only been an additional burden; for she
had not given him one encouraging word--very much the reverse! What
wonder that at last it should have become a kind of possession!
"Poor Joergen!" she said again, and took his hand.
It was the first token of affection she had bestowed upon him. She had
to draw her hand away again immediately to hold down her dress, for a
strong wind was blowing at the point, and a sailing-boat was tacking
just below them. The people in it waved up to them, and they waved back.
How fresh the air was! How brilliantly blue the fjord!
As they were descending towards the bay, Mary asked: "Do you really
believe that Uncle Klaus will disinherit you if we marry?"
"My dear girl, we have nothing to marry on!"
"We can sell these shares," she said undauntedly.
"If we were to sell them at their present price, in order to be able to
marry at once, he would be absolutely certain to cut me off."