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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary, by Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mary
+
+Author: Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
+Editor: Edmund Gosse
+
+Translator: Mary Morison
+
+Release Date: July 31, 2010 [EBook #33300]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    THE NOVELS OF BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
+
+    _Edited by EDMUND GOSSE_
+
+    VOLUME XIII
+
+
+
+
+    _THE NOVELS OF BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
+    Edited by EDMUND GOSSE
+    Fcap. 8vo, cloth 3s. net.
+
+        Synnöve Solbakken.
+        Arne.
+        A Happy Boy.
+        The Fisher Lass.
+        The Bridal March, & A Day.
+        Magnhild, & Dust.
+        Captain Mansana, & Mother's Hands.
+        Absalom's Hair, & A Painful Memory.
+        In God's Way. (2 vols.)
+        The Heritage of the Kurts. (2 vols.)
+        Mary.
+
+    LONDON
+    WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+    21 Bedford Street, W. C._
+
+
+
+
+    MARY
+
+    BY BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
+
+    _Translated from the Norwegian by MARY MORISON_
+
+    LONDON
+    WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+    1909
+
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+THE HOMESTEAD AND THE RACE
+
+
+The coast line of the south of Norway is very irregular. This is the
+work of the mountains and rivers. The former end in hillocks and
+headlands, off which often lie islands; the latter have dug out valleys
+and end in fjords or smaller inlets.
+
+In one of these inlets, known as "Kroken" (the nook), lies the
+homestead. The original name of the place was Krokskogen. In the
+documents of the Danish government officials this was transformed into
+Krogskoven; now it is Krogskogen. The owners originally called
+themselves Kroken; Anders and Hans Kroken were the regularly recurring
+names. In course of time they came to call themselves Krogh; the general
+in the Danish army subscribed himself _Von_ Krogh. Now they are Krog,
+plain and simple.
+
+The passengers on the small steamers which, on their way to and from the
+neighbouring town, touch at the landing-place below the little chapel,
+never fail to remark on the beautifully sheltered, snug situation of
+Krogskogen.
+
+The mountains rise high on the horizon, but here they have dwindled
+down. The families between two long wooded ridges which project into the
+sea--its buildings so close to the right-hand ridge that to the
+steamer-passengers it seems as if a man might easily jump from their
+roofs on to the steep hill-side. The west wind cannot find its way in
+here. The place seems, after the manner of children playing at
+hide-and-seek, to have the right to cry: _Pax!_ to it. And it is almost
+in a position to say the same to the north and east winds. Only a gale
+from the south can make its entrance, and that in humble fashion.
+Islands, one large and two small, detain and chasten it before they
+allow it to pass. The tall trees in front of the houses merely bow their
+topmost branches rhythmically; they abate none of their dignity.
+
+In this sheltered bay is the best bathing-place of the whole
+neighbourhood. In summer the youth of the town used to come out here on
+the Saturday evenings and Sundays to disport themselves in the sandy
+shallows or to swim out to the large island and back. It was at the left
+side of the bay, reckoning from Krogskogen, that this went on, the side
+where the river falls into the sea, where the landing-place lies, and, a
+little above it and nearer the ridge, the chapel, with the graves of the
+Krog family clustered round it. The distance from here to the houses on
+the right is considerable. Up there the noise made by the merry bathers
+was seldom heard. But Anders Krog often came down to watch them, when
+they had lighted fires on the beach or in the wood on the point. He
+doubtless came to keep an eye on the fires; but nothing was ever said of
+this. Anders was known as the politest man, "the most thorough
+gentleman," in the town. His large, peculiarly bright eyes beamed a
+gentle welcome into the faces of all; the few words which fell from him
+expressed only kindly interest. He soon passed on, to climb the ridge
+and take his usual slow walk round. As long as his tall, slightly
+stooping form was visible in the wood above, there was silence. But what
+a good time the bathers had here! They were for the most part working
+men from the town, members of gymnastic societies or choral unions,
+troops of boys. Their gathering-place was beside the landing-stage and
+the chapel. There they undressed. The main road which follows the coast
+passes the spot; but it was little frequented in summer; people came to
+the place by boat or in the small steamers. So long as the bathers kept
+a watchman on the ridge, they were certain of not being surprised.
+
+Up at the house it was quiet, always quiet. The front of the main
+building does not even face the bay; it looks on the fields. The
+building is of two high storeys, with the roof flattened over the
+gables--a long, broad house.
+
+The foundation wall rises very high in front; a flight of easy steps
+leads up to the door. The whole building is painted white, except the
+foundation wall and the windows, which are black. The outhouses lie
+nearer the ridge; they cannot be seen from the steamer. At one side of
+the main building an orchard slopes towards the sea; at the other is a
+large flower and kitchen garden.
+
+The level land, a long, narrow strip, lies between the ridges. It is
+carefully and skilfully cultivated. The big Dutch cows thrive here.
+
+The history of the property and that of its owners was predetermined by
+the woods. These were large and valuable, and fortunately came in good
+time under careful Dutch management. This happened in the days when the
+small Dutch merchant-vessels traded directly with the owners of the
+woods in Norway. The Dutchmen were supplied with timber, and in turn
+supplied the Norwegians with their civilisation and its products.
+Krogskogen was specially fortunate, for, some three hundred years ago,
+the owner of one of the "koffs" which lay loading in the bay, fell in
+love with the peasant's fair-haired daughter. He ended by buying the
+whole place. A beautifully painted portrait of him and her still hangs
+in the best room of the house, in the corner nearest the bay. It
+represents a tall, thin man, with peculiarly bright eyes. He is
+dark-haired, and has a slight stoop of the neck. The race must have been
+a vigorous one, for the Krogs are like this to-day.
+
+The first Dutch owner was not called Krog, nor did he live at
+Krogskogen; but the son who inherited the place was baptised Anders
+Krog, after his mother's father; he called his son Hans, after his own
+father; and since then these two names have alternated. If there were
+several sons, one was always named Klas and another Jürges, which names
+in the course of time became Klaus and Jörgen. The family continued to
+intermarry with its Dutch kinsfolk, so that the race was as much Dutch
+as Norwegian; for long all the domestic arrangements at Krogskogen were
+Dutch. In a manner, the nationalities did not seem really to mix. The
+reason of this probably was that the Dutch element was not pure
+Dutch--if it had been, it would have intermingled more easily with the
+Norwegian; it was a mixture of Dutch and Spanish. The black hair, the
+bright eyes, the lean body, were inherited by the men from generation to
+generation; the women inherited the fairness and the strong build; in
+them Norwegian blood flowed along with Dutch. Rarely indeed did the one
+sex make over any of its family characteristics to the other;
+occasionally fair and dark hair met in red, and once in a way the bright
+eyes would make their appearance in a woman's face.
+
+It was a peculiarity of the race that in all its families more daughters
+than sons were born. The Krogs were fine-looking men and women, and, as
+a rule, were well off; consequently, the family made good connections
+and held a good position. They had the character of being clannish and
+able to hold their own.
+
+One quality which marked them all was that of prudent moderation. In
+Norway a fortune rarely descends to the third generation. If it is not
+squandered in the second, it is certain to be in the third. Not so in
+this case. To the main branch of the Krog family the woods were now the
+same source of wealth that they had been three hundred years before.
+
+A desire which was transmitted from generation to generation was the
+desire to travel. In the book-cases at Krogskogen books of travel
+predominated, and additions were constantly made to their number. Even
+as children the Krogs travelled. They planned tours with the help of
+books, pictures, and maps. They sat at the table and played at
+travelling. They voyaged from one town built of coloured card-board
+houses to another of the same description. They navigated cardboard
+ships, loaded with beans, coffee, salt, and wooden pegs. In the bay they
+rowed and sailed and swam from the pier to the island. One day it was
+from Europe to America, another, from Japan to Ceylon. Or they crossed
+the ridge, that is the Andes, to the most wonderful Indian villages.
+
+No sooner were they grown up than they insisted on seeing something of
+the world. They generally began with a voyage to Holland and a visit to
+their kinsfolk there. Some two hundred years ago a youth of the family,
+after a very short stay in Holland, went off in a Dutch East Indiaman.
+He, however, returned to Amsterdam, resolved to become an architect and
+engineer--the professions were at that time combined. He made himself a
+name, and in course of time was called to Copenhagen to teach. He
+entered the military service and rose to the rank of general in the
+engineer corps. At the time of his retirement his earnings, added to his
+patrimony, constituted a considerable fortune. He settled at Krogskogen,
+which he bought after the death of a childless brother. He called
+himself Hans _von_ Krogh. It was he who erected the present house, which
+is of stone, a very unusual building material in a Norwegian forest
+district. The old engineer-architect wanted occupation and amusement.
+Though he was not married, he made the house large, "for those to come."
+He rebuilt the farm-steading; he drained and he planted; he sent to
+Holland for a gardener--old Siemens, of whose strictness and angry
+insistence upon cleanliness and order stories are still told. For him
+the General put up hot-houses and built a cottage.
+
+The General lived to be a very old man. After his day nothing special
+happened until the younger of two brothers emigrated to America and
+settled on the shores of Lake Michigan--at that time virgin soil. This
+was regarded as a great event. The man's name was Anders Krog. He
+prospered over there, and people wondered that he did not marry. He
+invited one of his brother's sons to come out to him, promising to make
+him his heir. And thus it came about that Hans, the elder brother of the
+Anders Krog of our story, went to America.
+
+At exactly the same time, however, arrived a young Norwegian girl, also
+a Krog; and with her the elderly uncle fell in love. He proposed to Hans
+to pay his journey home. But the young man felt that he would disgrace
+himself by returning. He stayed on and set up in business for
+himself--in the timber trade, which he understood. The undertaking
+prospered. By rights Hans should have gone home and taken possession of
+Krogskogen at the time of his father's death; but he refused to do so.
+The younger brother, Anders, who in the meantime had also taken to
+trade, and acquired the largest grocery business in the neighbouring
+town, was obliged to take over the property as well.
+
+Young Anders Krog was not really a good business man. But his
+extraordinary conscientiousness and considerateness soon gained him the
+custom of the whole town. Another man in his place might have made a
+fortune; he did not. When he entered on possession of Krogskogen he had
+not yet paid up the price of his business in town, and in taking over
+the property he incurred a still larger debt. For both he had been made
+to pay well. Travel he must, but he had to content himself with going
+off for a month each year--one year to England, another to France, and
+so on. His greatest desire was a visit to America, but on this he dared
+not venture yet. He contented himself with reading of the new
+wonderland. Reading was his chief pleasure; next to it came gardening,
+in which he possessed more skill than most trained gardeners.
+
+This quiet man with the bright eyes was shyer than a girl of fourteen.
+Every week-day morning he chose, if possible, a seat by himself on the
+little steamer which took him to town as long as the bay was not frozen
+over. In going on shore he showed extreme consideration for others; then
+he hurried off, bowing respectfully to his acquaintances, to his house
+on the market-place, where he was to be found until evening, when he
+returned as he had come. At times he cycled. In winter he drove; and at
+this season he sometimes stayed over night in town, where he occupied
+two modest attic rooms in his own house.
+
+The town knew of no other man possessing in such a degree all the
+qualities of a perfect husband. But his invincible modesty made all
+overtures impossible until ... the right woman came. But then he was
+already over forty. The same fate befell him as had befallen his uncle
+and namesake at Lake Michigan; a young girl of his own family came and
+took possession of him. And she was this very uncle's only child.
+
+He was working one Sunday morning, in his shirt-sleeves, in the kitchen
+and flower garden on the northern side of the house, when a young girl,
+wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, laid her ungloved hands on the white
+fence and looked in between its round tops.
+
+Anders, bending over a flower-bed, heard a playful: "Good morning!" and
+started up. Speechless and motionless he stood, with earth-soiled hands,
+his eyes drinking her in like a revelation.
+
+She laughed and said: "Who am I?" Then his thinking power returned. "You
+are--you must be----"; he got no further, but smiled a welcome.
+
+"Who am I?"
+
+"Marit Krog from Michigan."
+
+He had heard from his sister, who lived on the farther side of the left
+ridge, that Marit Krog was on her way to Norway. But he had no idea that
+she had arrived.
+
+"And you are my father's nephew," said she with an English accent. "How
+like him you are! How very like!"
+
+She stood looking at him for a moment. Then--"May I come in?"
+
+"Of course you may--but first"----looking at his hands and
+shirt-sleeves, "first I must----."
+
+"I can go in alone," said she frankly.
+
+"Of course--please do! Go in by the front-door. I'll send the maid--"
+and he hurried towards the kitchen.
+
+She ran round to the front of the house and up the steps. Turning an
+enormous key, an old work of art (as was also the iron-work on the
+door), she stepped into the hall or entrance room. Here there was plenty
+of light. Marit drew a little. She had learned to use her eyes. She saw
+at once that all these cupboards, large and small, were of excellent
+Dutch workmanship, and that the room was larger than it seemed; the
+furniture took up so much space. On her left an old-fashioned carved
+staircase led up to the second storey. The door straight in front of her
+led to the kitchen, she concluded, assisted by her sense of smell; and
+when the maid-servant issued from it she knew that she had guessed
+rightly. Through the open door she saw a floor flagged with marble,
+walls covered with china tiles decorated in blue, and, upon the shelf
+which extended round the walls, brightly polished copper vessels of many
+different sizes--a Dutch kitchen.
+
+In the hall she stood upon carpets thicker than any her feet had ever
+trodden. And quite as thick were those on the stairs, secured with the
+hugest of brass rods. "The people in this house walk on cushions," she
+thought to herself; and the idea immediately occurred to her that the
+house was an enormous bed. Afterwards she always called it "the bed."
+"Shall we go back to bed now?" she would say, laughing. On both sides of
+the hall she saw doors and pictured to herself the rooms within. To her
+left, that is, on the right side of the house, she imagined first a
+smaller room, and beyond it, nearest the sea, a large room, the whole
+breadth of the building. And she was correct. To her right she imagined
+the house divided lengthwise into two rooms. And in this also she was
+correct. Nor was it surprising that she should be, for her father's
+house on the shores of Lake Michigan was planned in imitation of this.
+Upstairs she pictured to herself a broad passage the whole length of the
+house, with moderate-sized rooms on both sides of it. The carpets were
+extraordinarily thick down here, but she was certain that they were at
+least as thick upstairs, real cushion carpets. In this house there were
+no noises. Its inmates were quiet people.
+
+The servant had opened the door to the left. Marit went into the great
+room and examined all its pictures and ornaments. It was terribly
+overcrowded, but all the things in themselves had been well chosen, many
+of them by connoisseurs--that she saw at once. Some of the paintings
+were, she felt certain, of great value. But what occupied her most was
+the thought that not until now had she understood her own old father,
+although she had lived with him all her life--alone with him; she had
+lost her mother early. Of just such a quantity of rare and precious
+things was he composed--in a somewhat confused fashion, which prevented
+his being appreciated. She felt as if he were standing by her, smiling
+his gentle, kindly smile, happy because he was understood.
+
+And there he was, sure enough! Through the open door she saw him on the
+stair. Younger, yes! But that was of no consequence; the eyes were only
+the brighter and warmer for that. He came towards her with the same
+walk, the same movement of the arms, the same slight stoop and
+circumspect carriage. And when he looked at her, and spoke to her, and
+bade her welcome in her father's gentle, subdued manner, she was
+conscious in him of the profound respect for the individual human being
+which, in her estimation, characterised her father beyond any one she
+had ever known. Her father's hair was thinner, his face was deeply
+lined, he had lost some of his teeth, his skin was shrivelled. The
+thought filled her eyes with tears. She looked up into the younger eyes,
+heard the fresher voice, felt the grasp of the warmer hand. She could
+not help it--she threw her arms round Anders Krog's neck, laid her head
+on his breast, and wept.
+
+This settled the matter. There was no resisting this.
+
+Soon afterwards they both got into the boat in which she had come. It
+was Marit who rowed round the point. Both for his own sake, and because
+of the bathers, who saw them, he had made some feeble attempts to take
+the oars. But from the moment when she threw her arms round his neck, he
+was powerless. He knew that he would henceforth do the will of this girl
+with the glory of red hair. He sat gazing at her freckled face and
+freckled hands, at her superb figure, her fresh lips. At the edge of
+her collar he caught a glimpse of the purest of white skin; there was
+something in the eyes which corresponded exactly with this. He had not
+seen his fill when they landed. Nor could he get enough on the way up to
+his sister's farm--not enough of her soft voice, of her gait, of her
+dress, of the smile which disclosed her teeth, nor, above all else, of
+her frank, impetuous talk; all these things were alike bewildering.
+
+Next morning he stayed at home. No sooner had the steamer with which he
+should have gone to town turned the point, than Marit's white boat came
+in sight. She had a maid-servant with her who was to keep watch, for
+to-day she too meant to bathe.
+
+Afterwards she went up to the house. She had planned to stay there to
+dinner. In the afternoon they walked back together, across the ridge;
+the boat had been sent home.
+
+Next day she went with him to town. The day after they were in town
+again, but this time she chose to drive, and made Anders' sister come
+with them. There was something new every day. The brother and sister
+simply lived for her, and she accepted the situation as if it were quite
+natural.
+
+When she had been with them for about three weeks, a cablegram came to
+Krogskogen from brother Hans, telling that their uncle, Anders, had died
+suddenly; the news must be broken to Marit.
+
+Never had Anders Krog taken a walk with heavier feet and heart than on
+the day when he crossed the hill to his sister's with this telegram in
+his pocket. As he came in sight of the home-like yellow house and
+steading amongst the trees on the plain below, he heard the dinner-bell
+ring out cheerily into the bright sunshine. The spread table was
+waiting. He sat down; he felt as if he could go no farther. Was he not
+on his way to kill the glad day?
+
+When at length he reached the house, he went in by the kitchen door,
+along with some labourers who had come from a distance for their dinner.
+In the kitchen he found his sister, who took him into a back room. She
+was as much shocked and grieved as he; but she was of a more courageous
+nature; and she undertook to break the news to Marit, who had not come
+in yet, but was expected every moment.
+
+Anders Krog in his back room ere long heard a scream which he never
+forgot. He sprang to his feet with the agony of it, but could not bring
+himself to leave the room; the sound of bitter sobbing in the next held
+him fast. It grew louder and louder, interrupted by short cries. The
+same impetuous strength in her grief as in her joy! It set him pacing
+the room wildly until his sister opened the door.
+
+"She wants to see you."
+
+Then he was obliged to go in. Exerting all the strength of his will, he
+entered. Marit was lying on the sofa, but the moment she saw him she sat
+up and stretched out her arms.
+
+"Come, come! _You_ are my father now!"
+
+He crossed the room quickly and bent over her; she put her arm round his
+neck and drew him down; he was obliged to kneel.
+
+"You must never leave me again! Never, never!"
+
+"Never!" he answered solemnly. She pressed him closer to her; her breast
+throbbed against his; her head lay against his--wet, burning.
+
+"You must never leave me!"
+
+"Never!" he said once more with all his heart, and folded her in his
+arms.
+
+She lay down again as if comforted, took hold of his hand, and became
+quieter. Every time the sobbing began afresh he bent over her with
+caressing words, and soothed her.
+
+He dared not go home; he stayed there all night. Marit could not sleep,
+and he had to sit beside her.
+
+By the following day she had made up her mind what was to be done. She
+must go to America, and he must accompany her. This prompt decision
+rather disconcerted him. But neither he nor his sister dared oppose her.
+The sister, however, managed to give another direction to the girl's
+thoughts. She said: "You ought to be married to each other first." Marit
+looked at her and replied: "Yes, you are right. Of course we must be."
+And this thought began to occupy her mind so much that her grief became
+less acute. Anders had not been asked; but there was no necessity that
+he should be.
+
+Then came the first letter from Hans. After telling about his uncle's
+funeral--how he had made all the arrangements, and what they were--he
+offered to take over his uncle's business and property.
+
+Anders placed unlimited confidence in his brother; the offer was
+accepted; hence the journey was given up as needless. As soon as the
+necessary investigations and valuations had been made, Hans named his
+figure, and asked his brother if he would not invest this sum in the
+business. The bank deposits and other securities were sent over at
+once. These alone produced a sum sufficient not only to pay Anders'
+debts, but also to allow Marit to make all the improvements at
+Krogskogen which she fancied. Anders wished her to keep the whole
+fortune in her own hands, but she ridiculed the idea. So he went into
+partnership with his brother, and was thenceforth, according to
+Norwegian ideas, a very wealthy man.
+
+Some months after their marriage a change came over Marit. She gave way
+to strange impulses, seemed unable to distinguish clearly between dream
+and reality, and was possessed by a desire to make changes in everything
+that was under her care, both at home and in their house in town. The
+people who rented part of the latter had to move. She wished to have the
+house to herself.
+
+Much of her husband's time was occupied in carrying out her plans, more
+in watching over herself. His gratitude did not find much expression in
+words; it was to be read in his eyes, in his increased reverence of
+manner, and above all in his tender care. He was afraid of losing what
+had come to him so unexpectedly, or of something giving way. His
+humility led him to feel that his happiness was undeserved.
+
+Marit clung to him closer than ever. Two expressions she never tired of
+repeating: "You are my father--and more!" and: "You have the most
+beautiful eyes in the world; and they are mine." Gradually she gave up
+many of her wonted occupations. In place of them she took to reading
+aloud to him. From her childhood she had been accustomed to read to her
+father; this practice was to be begun again. She read American
+literature, chiefly poetry--read it in the chanting style in which
+English verse is recited, and carried conviction by her own sincerity.
+Her voice was soft; it took hold of the words gently, repeated them
+quietly, as if from memory.
+
+Then came the time when they went every day together to the hot-house.
+The flowers there were the harbingers of what was growing within her;
+she wished to see them every day. "I wonder if they are talking about
+it," she said.
+
+And one day, when winter had given the first sign of departure from the
+coast, when they two had gathered the first green leaves in the border
+beneath the sunny wall, she fell ill and knew that the great hour had
+come. Without excessive previous suffering, and with her hand in his,
+she bore a daughter. This had been her wish. But it was not her lot to
+bring up her child; for three days later she herself was dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW MARIT
+
+
+The doctor long feared that Krog, too, would die--of pure over-exertion.
+During his long solitude he had been unaccustomed to give as much of
+himself, or to receive as much, as life with Marit demanded and gave.
+Not until she died did it become apparent how weak he was, how little
+power of resistance was left him. It took months to restore the feeble
+remnant so far that he could again bear to have people about him. They
+told him that the child had been taken to his sister's. They asked him
+if he would like to see it. He turned away almost angrily. The first
+thing that seriously occupied his thoughts when he grew stronger was the
+disposal of his business. About this he consulted with a relation, a
+cross-grained bachelor, generally known as "Uncle Klaus." Through him
+the business was sold; but not the house in which it was carried on;
+this was to remain exactly as it was, in remembrance of Marit.
+
+Anders Krog's first walk was down to the chapel and the grave; and this
+told upon him so terribly that he became ill again. As soon as he
+recovered, he announced that it was his intention to go abroad and to
+remain abroad. His sister came to him in alarm: "This cannot be true.
+You surely do not mean to leave us and your child?"
+
+"Yes," answered he, bursting into tears; "I cannot bear to live in these
+rooms."
+
+"But you will at least see the child before you go!"
+
+"No! no! Anything rather than that!"
+
+And he left without seeing her.
+
+But it was, naturally, the child that drew him home again. When she was
+about three years old she was photographed, and that photograph was
+irresistible. Such a likeness to her mother, such childlike charm, he
+could not stay away from. From Constantinople, where he received it, he
+wrote: "It has taken me nearly three years to go through again the
+experiences of one. I cannot say that I am in complete possession of
+them all yet. Many more are certain to recur to me when I see the places
+again where we were together. But the deeper life and thoughts of these
+three years have at least taught me no longer to dread these places. On
+the contrary, I am longing to see them."
+
+The meeting with the new Marit was a joy. Not at once, for she naturally
+began by being afraid of the strange man with the large eyes. But this
+made the joy all the greater when she gradually, cautiously, approached
+him. And when she at last sat upon his knee with her two new dolls, a
+Turkish man and woman, and shoved them up against his nose to make him
+sneeze, because "auntie" had sneezed, he said, with tears in his eyes:
+"I have had only one meeting that was sweeter."
+
+She came, with her nurse, to live with him. Their first walk together
+was to her mother's grave, on which he wished her to lay flowers. She
+did it, but was determined to take them away with her again. All their
+efforts were in vain. The nurse at last picked others for her; but these
+she would not have; she wanted her own. They were obliged to let her
+take them and to make her lay the new ones on the grave. Anders thought:
+This is not like her mother.
+
+The attempt was repeated. Mother's grave was to have fresh flowers every
+day, and Marit was to lay them there. Anders divided the flowers into
+two bunches; he carried the one and she the other. She was to leave hers
+and have his to take home again. But this plan succeeded no better;
+indeed, worse; for when they were ready to leave the churchyard, she
+insisted that he, too, should take his flowers back with him. He was
+obliged to give in to her. Next day he tried something different. She
+carried flowers to her mother's grave, and he gave her sweets to induce
+her to let them lie there. Yes, she would give up the flowers in
+exchange for the sweets, which she put into her mouth. But when they
+were ready to go, she was determined to have the flowers too. He was
+quite cast down.
+
+It then occurred to him to tell her that Mother was cold; Marit must
+cover her up. She thereupon proposed that Mother should come home to her
+own bed. Her father had told her that the empty bed beside his was
+Mother's; now she constantly asked if Mother were not coming soon. She
+could not come, he said; she must lie out there in the cold. This
+produced the desired effect. Marit herself spread the flowers over the
+grave and let them lie. On the way home she repeated several times:
+"Mother is not cold now."
+
+Anders wondered what she understood by "Mother." He wished her to be
+able to recognise her mother's portraits, but before showing her them,
+exercised her eye with pictures of animals and things. From these he
+proceeded to photographs of his sister, of himself, and of others whom
+she knew. When she was quite familiar with them, he produced the
+earliest photograph of her mother. There was no difficulty; she was
+shown several, and quickly learned to distinguish them from all others.
+In the afternoon, when she had been laid down to sleep, she asked to
+have "Mother" in her arms. Anders did not understand immediately, and
+she became impatient. Then he brought the first photograph of her
+mother. She took it at once, clasped it in her arms, and fell asleep.
+Not until she was four years old, and saw a mother in the kitchen
+tending her sick child, was he sure that she understood what a mother
+is; for then she said: "Why doesn't my mother come and undress me and
+dress me?"
+
+In the end father and daughter became fast friends. But the greatest
+pleasure of all came when she was old enough for him to tell her about
+Mother. About Mother, who had come across the sea to Father, bringing
+little Marit with her. The walks which he had taken with Mother, the two
+took together--every one of them. He rowed her as Mother had rowed him;
+they went to town together as Mother and Father had done. There she sat
+in the chairs which Mother had bought and sat in. At table she sat in
+Mother's place; in conservatory and garden among the flowers she was
+Mother, and helped as Mother had done.
+
+What a clever, beautiful child she was! She had her mother's red hair
+and brilliantly white skin, her large eyes, and the same delicate, long
+line of eyebrow. Possibly she would also have the same aquiline nose.
+The hands with the long fingers were not her mother's, nor was the
+figure. That very slight forward bend at the joining of head and neck
+was like her father's. She had not her mother's prettily squared
+shoulders; Marit's sloped, and the arms descended from them in a more
+even line. Anders could not resist going up every evening to look at her
+when she was being undressed. The mixture of the masculine and feminine
+Krog types, which had hitherto been so uncommon, but which her mother
+had to a certain extent represented, was complete in her. She grew tall,
+her eyes large, her head shapely. Her father could not get her to
+associate with other children; it bored her. They did not transport
+themselves quickly enough into her imaginary world, which was certainly
+a curious one. The fields were a circus--her father had told her about
+Buffalo Bill's. The Indians galloped across the plain; she herself, on a
+white horse, leading. The ridges were boxes, and they were full of
+people. This the other children could not see. Nor could they understand
+the travel-game on the table, which her father had taught her to play.
+
+When she was nearly seven, she compelled her father, who was a good
+cyclist, to buy her a bicycle and teach her to ride it. But this was the
+drop which caused the cup to overflow. He decided to call in help.
+
+In Paris he had made the acquaintance of a distant relation, Mrs. Dawes
+by name. This lady had married in England, but after the death of her
+only child she left her husband, and supported herself by keeping a
+boarding-house in Paris. In this boarding-house Krog had admired her
+extremely. He had seldom met a cleverer woman. Now he asked her if she
+would come and keep his house and educate his child. She promptly
+telegraphed "Yes," and within a month had sold her business, travelled
+to Norway, and entered upon all her duties. A disease of the hip-joint
+from which she had long suffered had become worse, so that she had
+difficulty in walking. But from the wheeled arm-chair which she brought
+with her, and which her stout person completely filled, she managed the
+whole household, including Anders himself. He was quite alarmed by her
+cleverness. She seldom left her chair, and yet she knew of everything
+that happened. Walls did not conceal from her eyes; distance did not
+exist for her. Much of this power of hers was explained by the acuteness
+of her senses, by her cleverness in interpreting words and signs,
+reading looks and expressions and drawing inferences from them, and by
+her skill in the art of questioning. But there was something that defied
+explanation. When danger threatened any one she loved, she was aware of
+it--sitting in her chair. With a loud exclamation--always in English on
+such occasions--she sprang up, and actually ran. This happened, for
+instance, on the memorable day when Marit, on her bicycle, fell into the
+river and was fished out again by two men from the steamer; for it was
+close to the landing-place that the accident occurred; she was on her
+way there. On the way home she and Mrs. Dawes met--the one dripping with
+sea-water and screaming, the other dripping with perspiration and
+screaming.
+
+Mrs. Dawes went the round of the house every day--outside, if
+necessary, as well as inside--but she seldom went farther. On this round
+she saw everything--including what was about to happen, the servants
+declared.
+
+There was a suggestion of floating about her. She sat floating in paper.
+She carried on, at least according to Anders Krog, a constant
+correspondence with every one who had ever lived in her house. It was
+carried on in all languages and upon all subjects; a considerable part
+of her time was spent in introducing what she read--and she read far
+into the night--into her letters. She moved her chair to the table on
+which lay her desk; then she turned away from the table to read.
+Fastened to the arm of the chair was a reading-desk, on which she laid
+the book; she seldom held it in her hand. Memoirs were her favourite
+reading; gossip from them she at once transferred to her letters. Next
+came art magazines and books of travel. She had a little money of her
+own, and bought what she wanted.
+
+Along with all this she taught the child. The two sat at the big table
+in the drawing-room, "Aunt Eva" in her chair of state, the little girl
+opposite her. But whenever it was necessary, Marit had to come round and
+stand beside Aunt Eva's desk. The hours of instruction passed so
+pleasantly that the little one often forgot that she was at lessons. Her
+father, whose library opened out of the drawing-room, often forgot it
+too, when he came in and listened to the conversations or to what Mrs.
+Dawes was telling.
+
+Lessons might be easy, but something else was difficult and led to
+conflict. Mrs. Dawes wished to bring about a general alteration in the
+child's habits, and here she had the father against her. But he was, of
+course, worsted, and that before he understood what she was about. Marit
+had to learn to obey; she had to learn the meaning of punctuality, of
+order, of politeness, of tact. She had to practise every day, to hold
+herself straight at table, to wash her hands an unlimited number of
+times, always to tell where she was going--and all this against her own
+will, and really against her father's, too.
+
+Mrs. Dawes had one sure base from which to operate. This was the child's
+unbounded faith in her mother's perfection. She convinced Marit that her
+mother had never gone to bed later than eight o'clock. Before getting
+into bed, too, Mother had always arranged her clothes upon a chair and
+set her shoes outside the door.
+
+From what Mother had done, and done to perfection, Mrs. Dawes went on
+to what Mother would have done if she had been in Marit's place, and,
+also, to what she would not have done if she had been Marit. This proved
+harder. When Mrs. Dawes, for instance, assured her that her mother had
+never ridden out of sight on her bicycle, Marit asked: "How do you know
+that?" "I know it because I know that your father and mother were never
+away from each other." "That is true, Marit," said her father, glad to
+be able for once to confirm one of Mrs. Dawes's assertions; most of them
+were not true.
+
+The farther the work of education progressed, the more interested in it
+did Mrs. Dawes become, and the stronger did her hold on the child grow.
+She set herself the task of eradicating Marit's dream-life, an
+inheritance from her mother, which flourished exuberantly as long as her
+father encouraged it and took pleasure in it.
+
+One spring Marit rushed in and told her father that in a hollow in the
+old tree between Mother's and Grandmother's graves there was a little
+nest, and in the nest were tiny, tiny little eggs. "It's a message from
+Mother, isn't it?" He nodded, and went with her to look at it. But when
+they came near, the bird flew out piping lamentably. "Mother says we are
+not to go nearer?" questioned Marit. To this her father answered:
+"Yes." "It would be the same as disturbing Mother if we did?" continued
+she. He nodded.--They walked back to the house, perfectly happy, talking
+of Mother all the way. When Marit told Mrs. Dawes about this afterwards,
+Mrs. Dawes said to her: "Your father answers 'Yes' to such questions
+because he does not want to grieve you, child. If your Mother could send
+you a message, she would come herself." There was no end to the
+revolution which those few cruel words wrought. They altered even the
+relation between the child and her father.
+
+The lessons went on steadily, and so did the training, until Marit was
+nearly thirteen--tall, very thin, large-eyed, with luxuriant red hair
+and a pure white skin guiltless of freckles, which was Mrs. Dawes's
+pride.
+
+About this time Krog came in one day from the library to stop the
+lessons. This had not happened during all the years they had gone on.
+Marit was allowed to go. Mrs. Dawes accompanied Anders into the library.
+
+"Be kind enough to read this letter."
+
+She read, and learned what she had had no idea of--that the man who was
+standing before her, watching her face whilst she read, was a
+millionaire--and that not in kroner, but in dollars. Since receiving the
+bank deposits and shares at the time of his uncle's death, he had drawn
+nothing from America--and this was the result.
+
+"I congratulate you," said Mrs. Dawes, and seized his right hand in both
+of hers. Her eyes filled with tears: "And I understand you, dear Mr.
+Krog; it is your wish that we should travel now."
+
+He looked at her, a glad smile in his bright eyes. "Have you any
+objection, Mrs. Dawes?"
+
+"Not if we take servants with us. You know how lame I am."
+
+"Servants you shall have, and we shall keep a carriage wherever we are.
+Lessons can go on, can't they?"
+
+"Of course they can. Better than ever!" She beamed and wept. She said to
+herself that she had never felt so happy.
+
+A fortnight later the three, with maid and manservant, had left
+Krogskogen.
+
+
+
+
+THE SCEPTRE CHANGES HANDS
+
+
+Two years and a half passed, during the course of which Krog was at home
+several times, unaccompanied by the others. Then it was determined that
+they should all spend a summer at Krogskogen. With this project in view
+the three were in a draper's shop in Vienna. Mrs. Dawes and Marit were
+to have new clothes, Marit especially being in need of them, as she had
+grown out of hers. It was the first week of May; summer dresses were to
+be chosen.
+
+"We think, both your father and I, that you must have long dresses now.
+You are so tall."
+
+Marit looked at her father, but the materials which lay spread out in
+front of him engaged his attention. Mrs. Dawes spoke for him.
+
+"Your father says that when you are walking with him, gentlemen look at
+your legs."
+
+Krog began to fidget. Even the lady behind the counter felt that there
+was thunder in the air. She did not understand the language, but she saw
+the three faces. At last Anders heard Marit answering in a curious, but
+quite pleasant voice:
+
+"Is it because Mother had long dresses when she was my age that I am to
+have them?"
+
+Mrs. Dawes looked with dismay at Anders Krog; but he turned away.
+
+"Aunt Eva," began Marit again; "of course you were with Mother then? at
+the time she got long dresses? Or was it Father?"
+
+No more was said about long dresses. No more was said at all. They left
+the shop.
+
+Nothing else happened. As if it had been a matter of course, next day,
+instead of coming to lessons, she drove with her father, first to
+arrange about the dresses, and then to the picture-galleries. They went
+sight-seeing every day until they left. There were no more lessons. In
+the evenings the three went, as if nothing had occurred, to concert,
+opera, or theatre. They wished to make good use of the remaining time.
+
+At the beginning of June they were in Copenhagen. There a letter awaited
+them from "Uncle Klaus." Jörgen Thiis, his adopted son, had received his
+commission as lieutenant; Klaus meant to give a summer ball at his
+country-house, but was waiting until they came home. When were they
+coming?
+
+Marit was delighted at the prospect. She remembered handsome, tall
+Jörgen. He was a son of the Amtmand[A]; his mother was Klaus Krog's
+sister.
+
+    [A] Chief magistrate of the district.
+
+A ball-dress had now to be thought out; but the deliberations were
+short, nothing being said on the subject until they were on their way to
+order it. The one really exciting question: Ought not this dress to be
+long? they did not discuss. When the decisive moment arrived, and the
+length of the skirt was to be taken, the dressmaker who was measuring
+said: "I suppose the young lady's dress is to be long?" Marit looked at
+Mrs. Dawes, who turned red. What was worse, the dressmaker herself
+blushed. Then she hastily took the length of the short dress which Marit
+was wearing.
+
+The ball was given on the 20th of June, a sultry day, without sun. The
+guests were assembled in the garden in front of the large country-house,
+when the sailing-boat came in which brought Marit and her father; they
+were the last to arrive. Old Klaus--tall, thin, wearing remarkably wide
+white trousers--stalked down to receive her. Standing hatless, with
+shining bald head and perspiring face, he stopped her with a motion of
+his hand whilst he looked down at Anders in the boat.
+
+"Are you not coming?"
+
+"No, no! Thanks all the same!"
+
+Off went the boat. Not till now did Klaus look at Marit, whom Mrs. Dawes
+in her long letters had described as the most beautiful girl she had
+ever seen. He stared, he bowed, and approached her, reeking of tobacco,
+his big, smiling, open mouth disclosing unclean teeth. He offered his
+arm. But Marit, who was wearing a long sleeveless cloak which reached to
+the ground, pretended not to see this. Klaus was offended, but escorted
+her up to the others, saying as they arrived: "Here I come with the
+queen of the ball." This displeased her, and every one else, so the
+beginning was unfortunate. Jörgen, whose place it was to do so, hastened
+forward to take her cloak and hat; but she bowed slightly and passed on.
+There was style in this! As soon as she was out of hearing, comment
+began. Her bearing in passing them, her face, carriage, gait, the
+dazzlingly white skin, the sparkling eyes, the arch above them, the
+shape of the nose--everything was perfect, and made a perfect whole. It
+was all over with Jörgen Thiis. He himself was a tall, slender man of
+the Krog type, but with eyes peculiar to himself. At present these were
+fixed on the door through which Marit had disappeared. He was waiting on
+the steps.
+
+And when she came out again and stepped forward to take his arm and be
+conducted down to the others, she was a sight to see--in a short dress
+of light sea-blue silky material, with transparent silk stockings of the
+same colour, and silvery shoes with antique buckles. The company were
+unanimous in admiration, and were still expressing it as they trooped in
+to take their places at the tables. Nor was the subject dropped there;
+Marit's beauty became the talk of the town. To think that these regular
+features and bright eyes, and that white, white skin should be framed in
+such a glory of red hair! And the whole was in perfect keeping with the
+tall figure, the slight forward inclination of the shoulders, and a
+bosom which, though not fully developed yet, nevertheless stood out
+distinct and free.
+
+The arms, the wrists, the hips, the legs!--it became positively comical
+when a group of young men were heard maintaining with the utmost
+eagerness that the ankles were more superb than anything else. Such
+ankles had never been seen--so slender and so beautifully shaped--no,
+never!
+
+Jörgen Thiis forgot to speak; he even for a considerable time forgot to
+eat, though, as a rule, he liked nothing better. He followed Marit about
+like a sleep-walker. She was never to be seen without him behind her or
+at her side.
+
+Her father and Mrs. Dawes had, on account of the ball, come in to the
+town house. They were awakened at dawn of day by loud talking and
+laughter outside, ending with cheers; the whole company had seen Marit
+home.
+
+Next day the relations and friends of the Krog family came to call. The
+elder people who had been at the ball considered Marit to be the most
+beautiful creature they had ever seen. At nine o'clock in the evening
+old Klaus had rowed into town and trudged round for the express purpose
+of getting some of his friends to come out and see her.
+
+In the afternoon Jörgen presented himself in uniform, with new gloves.
+He had taken the liberty of calling to ask how Miss Krog was. But
+nothing had as yet been heard of that young lady.
+
+When she did make her appearance, her mind was not occupied with
+yesterday, but with something quite different. This Mrs. Dawes felt at
+once. The queen of the ball told nothing about the ball. She contented
+herself with asking if they had been awakened. Then she went and had
+something to eat. When she came back, her father told her that Jörgen
+had called to ask how she was. Marit smiled.
+
+"Do you not like Jörgen?" asked Mrs. Dawes.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why did you smile, then?"
+
+"He ate so much."
+
+"His father, the Amtmand, does the same," remarked Krog, laughing. "And
+he always picks out the daintiest morsels."
+
+"Yes, exactly."
+
+Mrs. Dawes sat waiting for what was to come next; for something was
+coming. Marit left the room; in a short time she appeared again with her
+hat on and a parasol in her hand.
+
+"Are you going out?" asked Mrs. Dawes.
+
+Marit was standing pulling on her gloves.
+
+"I am going to order visiting-cards."
+
+"Have you no cards?"
+
+"Yes, but they are not suitable now."
+
+"Why not?" said Mrs. Dawes, much surprised. "You thought them so pretty
+when we bought them, in Italy."
+
+"Yes--but what I don't think suits me any longer is the name."
+
+"The name?"
+
+Both looked up.
+
+"I feel exactly as if it were no longer mine."
+
+"Marit does not suit you?" said Mrs. Dawes.
+
+Her father added gently: "It was your mother's name."
+
+Marit did not answer at once; she felt the dismay in her father's eyes.
+
+"What do you wish to be called, then, child?" It was again Mrs. Dawes
+who spoke.
+
+"Mary."
+
+"Mary?"
+
+"Yes. That suits better, it seems to me."
+
+The silent astonishment of her companions evidently troubled her. She
+added:
+
+"Besides, we are going to America now. There they say Mary."
+
+"But you were baptised Marit," put in her father at last.
+
+"What does that matter?"
+
+"It stands in your certificate of baptism, child," added Mrs. Dawes; "it
+is your name."
+
+"Yes, it is in the certificate, no doubt--but not in me."
+
+The others stared.
+
+"This grieves your father, child."
+
+"Father is welcome to go on calling me Marit."
+
+Mrs. Dawes looked at her sorrowfully, but said no more. Marit had
+finished putting on her gloves.
+
+"In America I am called Mary. I know that. Here is a specimen card. It
+looks nice; doesn't it?"
+
+She drew a very small card from her card-case. Mrs. Dawes looked at it,
+then handed it to Anders. Upon it was inscribed in minute Italian
+characters:
+
+    _Mary Krog._
+
+Anders looked at it, looked long; then laid it on the table, took up his
+newspaper, and sat as if he were reading.
+
+"I am sorry, Father, that you take it in this way."
+
+Anders Krog said once more, gently, without looking up from his
+newspaper: "Marit is your mother's name."
+
+"I, too, am fond of Mother's name. But it does not suit me."
+
+She quietly left the room. Mrs. Dawes, who was sitting at the window,
+watched her going along the street. Anders Krog laid down the
+newspaper; he could not read. Mrs. Dawes made an attempt to comfort him.
+"There is something in what she says; Marit no longer suits her."
+
+"Her mother's name," repeated Anders Krog; and the tears fell.
+
+
+
+
+THREE YEARS LATER
+
+
+Three years later, in Paris, on a beautiful spring day after rain, Mary
+and her relation, Alice Clerc, drove down the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne
+towards the gilded entrance gate. The two had made each other's
+acquaintance in America, and had met again a year ago in Paris. Alice
+Clerc lived in Paris now with her father. Mr. Clerc had been the
+principal dealer in works of art in New York. His wife was a Norwegian
+lady of the Krog family. After her death he sold his enormous business.
+The daughter had been brought up in art surroundings, and her art
+training had been thorough. She had seen the picture-galleries and
+museums of all countries--had dragged her father as far as Japan. Their
+house in the Champs Elysées was full of works of art. And she had her
+own studio there; she modelled. Alice was no longer young; she was a
+stout, strong person, good-natured and lively.
+
+Anders Krog and his companions had this year come from Spain. The two
+friends were talking of a portrait of Mary which had been sent from
+Spain to Alice, and afterwards to Norway. Alice maintained that the
+artist had plainly intended to produce a resemblance to Donatello's St.
+Cecilia--in the position of the head, in the shape of the eye, in the
+line of the neck, and the half-open mouth. But, interesting as this
+experiment might be, it took away from the likeness. It was, for
+instance, a loss to the portrait that the eyes were not seen; they were
+cast down, as in Donatello's work. Mary laughed. It was on purpose to
+have this resemblance brought out that she had sat for it.
+
+Alice now began to talk about a Norwegian engineer officer whom she had
+known since the days when she went to Norway in summer with her mother.
+He had seen Mary's portrait at the Clercs' house, and had fallen in love
+with it.
+
+"Really?" answered Mary absently.
+
+"He is not the ordinary man, I assure you, nor is it the ordinary
+falling in love."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"I am preparing you. You will of course meet at our house."
+
+"Is that necessary?"
+
+"Very. At least I shall be made to pay for it if you don't."
+
+"Dear me! is he dangerous?"
+
+Alice laughed: "I find him so, at any rate."
+
+"O ho! that alters the situation."
+
+"Now you are misunderstanding me. Wait till you see him."
+
+"Is he so very good-looking?"
+
+Alice laughed. "No, he is positively ugly. Just wait."
+
+As they drove on, the Avenue became more crowded; it was one of the
+great days.
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"Frans Röy."
+
+"Röy? That is our lady doctor's name--Miss Röy."
+
+"Yes, she is his sister, he often talks of her."
+
+"She is a fine-looking woman."
+
+Alice drew herself up. "You should see _him_. When I walk with him in
+the street, people turn round to take another look at him. He is a
+giant! But not of the kind that run to muscle and flesh. No, very tall,
+agile."
+
+"A trained athlete, I suppose?"
+
+"Magnificent! His strength is what he is proudest of and delights most
+in displaying."
+
+"Is he stupid, then?"
+
+"Stupid? Frans Röy?----" She leaned back again, and Mary asked no more.
+
+They had been late in setting out. Endless rows of returning carriages
+passed them. The three broad driving-roads of the Avenue were crowded.
+The nearer they came to the iron gate where these three meet in one, the
+more compact did the rows become. The display of light, many-coloured
+spring costumes on this first day of sunshine after rain was a unique
+sight. Amongst the fresh foliage the carriages looked like baskets of
+flowers among green leaves--one behind the other, one alongside of the
+other, without beginning, without end.
+
+At the iron gate they came close to the undulating crowd of pedestrians.
+No sooner were they inside than a disturbance communicated itself from
+right to left. The people on the right must see something invisible to
+the others. Some of them were screaming and pointing in the direction of
+the lakes; the carriages were ordered to drive either to the side or
+into the cross-roads; the agitation increased; it was soon universal.
+Gendarmes and park-keepers rushed hither and thither; the carriages were
+packed so closely together that none of them could move on. A broad
+space in the centre was soon clear for a considerable distance. All
+gazed, all questioned ... there it came! A pair of frantic horses with a
+heavy carriage behind them. On the box both coachman and groom were to
+be seen. There must have been a struggle, since there had been time to
+clear the way; or else the horses must have bolted a long way off. Up
+here, inside the gate, all the carriages had disappeared from the
+central passage. Alice's stood blocked nearest the gate, against the
+left footpath. They hear shouts behind them; probably the whole Avenue
+is being cleared. But no one looks that way, all gaze straight ahead, at
+the magnificent animals that are tearing frantically towards them.
+Driven by curiosity, the crowds on both sides swayed back and forwards.
+Terrified voices outside the gate cried: "Shut the gates!" A furious
+protest, a thousand-voiced jeer, answered them from within. In the
+carriages every one was standing; many had mounted the seats, Mary and
+Alice among the number. It seemed as if the horses' pace increased the
+nearer they came; both coachman and groom were tugging at the reins with
+might and main, but this only excited them the more. A man wearing a
+tall hat was leaning his whole body out of the carriage, probably to
+discover where he was going to break his neck. Some dogs were following,
+with strenuous protest. Up here they allured others on to the road, but
+these did not venture far out. Two or three that did, knocked up against
+each other with such violence that one fell and was run over; the
+carriage bounded, the dog howled; his comrades stopped for a moment.
+
+Now a man, disengaging himself from the crowd at the iron gate, ran into
+the middle of the road. People shouted to him; they waved with sticks
+and umbrellas; they threatened. Two gendarmes ventured out a few steps
+after him and gesticulated and shouted; a single park-keeper inside the
+gate did the same, but ran back terrified. Instead of attending to these
+shouts and threats, the man measured the horses with his eye, moved to
+the left, to the right, back again to the left ... evidently preparing
+to throw himself on them.
+
+The moment the crowd comprehended this, it became silent, so silent that
+the birds could be heard singing in the trees. And heard, too, the dull,
+distant sound from the giant town, which never ceases, borne hither by
+the breeze. Its monotonous tone underlay the twitter of the birds.
+Strange it was, but the horses of the carriages drawn up by the
+roadside stood as intent as the human beings; they did not stir a foot.
+
+The frantic pair reach the man in the middle of the avenue. He turns
+with the speed of an arrow in the direction they are going, and runs
+along with them, flinging himself against the side of the horse next
+him....
+
+"It is he!" cried Alice, deathly pale, and gripping Mary so violently
+that they were both on the point of toppling over. Women's screams
+resounded wild and shrill, the deeper roars of the men following. He was
+now hanging on to the horse. Alice closed her eyes. Mary turned away.
+Was he running, or was he being dragged? Stop them he could not!
+
+Again a few seconds of terrible silence; only the dogs and the horses'
+hoofs were heard. Then a short cry, then thousands, then jubilation,
+wild, endless jubilation--handkerchiefs waving, and hats and parasols.
+The crowd burst into the Avenue again from both sides like a flood. The
+space by the gate was filled in an instant. The frenzied animals stood
+trembling, in a lather of foam, close to Alice's carriage. Mary saw a
+grey-clad Englishman, an erect old man with a white beard and a tall
+hat; she saw a young lady hanging on his arm, and she heard him say:
+"Well done, young man!" A roar of laughter followed. And not till now
+did she see him who had evoked it--still gripping the horse's nostrils,
+hatless, waistcoat torn, hand bleeding, his perspiring, excited face at
+this moment turned laughingly towards the Englishman. At exactly the
+same time the man caught sight of Alice, who was still standing on the
+seat of her carriage. He instantly deserted horses, carriage,
+Englishman, and forced his way through the crowd towards her.
+
+"Dear people, get me out of this!" he said quickly, in the broadest of
+"Eastern" Norwegian. Before Alice had time to answer, or even to step
+down from the seat, and long before the groom could swing himself down
+from the box, he had opened the carriage door and was standing beside
+them. He handed first Alice and then her friend down from the seat. Then
+he said to the coachman in French:
+
+"Drive me home as soon as you can move. You remember the address?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur le Capitaine," replied the coachman, touching his hat
+respectfully, with a look of admiration.
+
+As Frans Röy turned to sit down, his face contracted, and he exclaimed,
+catching hold of his foot: "Oh!----the devil! that brute must have
+trodden on me. I never felt it till now."
+
+As he spoke, he met Mary's large, astonished eyes; he had not looked at
+her before, not even when he was assisting her down from the seat. The
+change in his expression was so sudden and so extremely comical that
+both ladies burst out laughing. Frans raised his bleeding hand to his
+hat--and discovered that he had no hat. Then he laughed too.
+
+The coachman had in the meantime manoeuvred them a few yards forwards,
+and they were beginning to turn.
+
+"I don't suppose I need tell you who she is?" laughed Alice.
+
+"No," answered Röy, looking so hard at Mary that she blushed.
+
+"Good heavens! Think of your daring to do that!" It was Alice who spoke.
+
+"Oh! It's not so dangerous as it looks," he replied, without taking his
+eyes off Mary. "There's a trick in it. I've done it twice before." He
+was speaking to Mary alone. "I saw at once that only one horse had lost
+its head; the other was being dragged along. So I went for the mad
+one.--Goodness! what a sight I am!" He had not discovered till now that
+his waistcoat was in rags, that his watch was gone, and that blood was
+dripping from his hand. Mary offered him her handkerchief. He looked at
+the delicate square of embroidery and then at her again: "No, Miss Krog;
+that would be like stitching birch-bark with silk."
+
+Röy lived quite near the iron gate, to the right, so they arrived in a
+few moments. Thanking them heartily, and without offering his bleeding
+hand, he jumped out. Whilst he limped across the pavement, erect, huge,
+and the carriage was turning, Alice whispered in English: "If one could
+only have a model like that, Mary!"
+
+Mary looked at her in surprise: "Well--is it not possible?"
+
+Alice looked back at Mary, still more surprised: "Nude, I mean."
+
+Mary almost started from her seat, then bent forward and looked straight
+into Alice's face. Alice met her eyes with a teasing laugh.
+
+Mary leaned back and gazed straight in front of her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On account of the injury to his foot, Frans Röy had to keep quiet for
+some days. The first time he called on Alice, Mary, according to
+agreement, was sent for. But she felt so strangely agitated that she
+dared not go. Next time curiosity, or whatever the feeling was,
+brought her. But she came late, and hardly had she looked him in the
+face again before she wished that she had not come. There was an
+intensity about him which the fine lady felt to be intrusive, almost
+insulting. Her whole being was like a surging sea; she followed him
+with her eyes and with her ears; her thoughts were in a whirl, and so
+was her blood. This must pass over soon, she thought. But it did not.
+Alice's entrancement--love, to call it by the right name--audible and
+visible in every word, every look, added to her confusion. Was he
+really so ugly? That broad, upright forehead, these small, sparkling
+eyes, the compressed lips and projecting chin, produced in conjunction
+an impression of unusual strength; but the face was made comical by
+there being no nose to speak of. Very comical, too, was most of
+his conversation. He was in such high spirits and so full of fun
+and fancies that the rattle never ceased. His manners were not
+overbearing; on the contrary, he was politeness itself, attentive, at
+times quite the gallant. What overpowered was his forcefulness. Force
+spoke in his voice and glanced from his eyes. But the body, too,
+played its part--the strong hand, the small, foot, compact, the
+shoulders, the neck, the chest--these spoke too, they insisted, they
+demonstrated. One could not escape from them for a moment. And the
+talk never ceased.
+
+Mary was unaccustomed to any style of conversation except that of
+international society--light talk of wind and weather, of the events of
+the day, of literature and art, of incidents of travel--the whole at
+arm's length. Here everything was personal and almost intimate. She felt
+that she herself acted upon Frans like wine. His intoxication increased;
+he let himself go more and more. This excited her too much; it gave her
+a feeling of insecurity. As soon as politeness allowed of it, she took
+leave, nervous, confused, as a matter of fact in wild retreat. She
+promised herself solemnly that she would never go back again.
+
+Not until later in the day did she join her father and Mrs. Dawes. She
+did not say a word about her meeting with Frans Röy. Nor had she done so
+on the previous occasion. Mrs. Dawes told her to look at a visiting-card
+which was lying on the table.
+
+"Jörgen Thiis? Is he here?"
+
+"He has been here all winter. But he had only just heard of our
+arrival."
+
+"He asked to be remembered to you," put in Anders, who was, as usual,
+sitting reading.
+
+It was a rest even to think of Jörgen Thiis. Last winter he and she had
+seen a good deal of each other in Paris. Both at private houses and at
+official balls at the Elysées and the Hôtel de Ville he had been of
+their party. He was a squire to be proud of, good-looking, gentlemanly,
+courteous.
+
+Her father mentioned that Jörgen was intending to exchange into the
+diplomatic service.
+
+"Surely money is required for that?" said Mary.
+
+"He is Uncle Klaus's heir," replied Mrs. Dawes.
+
+"Are you certain of this?"
+
+"No, not certain."
+
+"And has not Uncle Klaus lost a good deal of money lately?"
+
+Mrs. Dawes did not answer. Krog said:
+
+"We have heard something to that effect."
+
+"In that case will he be able to help him?"
+
+No one replied.
+
+"Then it does not seem to me that Jörgen's prospects are particularly
+good," concluded Mary.
+
+Röy was in France on special Government business, which often took him
+away from Paris. He had to go just at this time, so Mary felt safe. But
+one morning when she made an early call on Alice--the two had arranged
+to go into town together--there he sat! He jumped up and came towards
+her, his eyes beaming admiration and delight upon her. He seized her
+hand in both of his. She had never beheld such radiant happiness. She
+felt herself turn scarlet. Alice laughed, which made things worse. But
+Frans Röy's loquacity came to their assistance. It was excessive to-day
+even for him. He plunged at once into a description of a gigantic
+foundry from which he had just come, and drew them along with him. They
+saw the half-naked men standing with their hooks on the edge of the
+stream of boiling, bubbling, fiery-red metal; they felt the power of the
+machinery, and saw the human beings creeping among it like cautious ants
+in a giant forest. He tried, too, to explain this machinery to them in
+detail. And he made them understand perfectly; but time wore on, and the
+two friends had to go.
+
+Alice was in the best of spirits during their drive. It was so evident
+that Frans had made a strong impression to-day.
+
+On the following morning Mary went off on a motor excursion with some
+American friends. She was away for several days. And the first thing she
+did on her return was to call on Alice. There, sure enough, sat Frans
+Röy! Both he and Alice jumped up, delighted. Alice embraced and kissed
+her. "Runaway, runaway!" she exclaimed. It is not enough to say that
+Frans Röy's eyes sparkled; they fired a royal salute. From the moment
+Mary shook hands with him, he talked incessantly. He was so foolishly in
+love that Alice began to feel alarmed. Fortunately he had to go soon, to
+keep a business appointment. Mary was left in a stormy swell; the sea
+would not go down. Alice saw this and tried to calm her by eager,
+anxious attempts to explain him. But this only further confused her; she
+left.
+
+As she came downstairs to join her father and Mrs. Dawes in the
+afternoon--she had felt it necessary to take a rest--she heard
+piano-playing. She knew at once that it was Jörgen Thiis who was
+entertaining the old people. He was a first-rate musician, and he loved
+their piano. It was to go with them to Norway. She went straight up to
+him, and thanked him for being so attentive to her father and Aunt Eva;
+unfortunately they were left much alone. He replied that their
+appreciation of his music gratified him exceedingly, and that the piano
+was a great attraction, being a particularly fine instrument.
+
+The conversation during and after dinner showed Mary how accustomed
+these three were to be together; they could do without her. She felt
+really grateful, and they had a pleasant evening. There was much talk of
+home, for which the old people were longing.
+
+Jörgen was hardly gone before Mrs. Dawes said: "What a pleasant,
+well-bred man Jörgen is, child!"
+
+Anders looked at Mary and smiled.
+
+"At what are you smiling, Father?"
+
+"Nothing"--his smile growing broader.
+
+"You want to know my opinion of him?"
+
+"Yes, what do you think of him?"
+
+Mrs. Dawes was all ear.
+
+"Well...."
+
+"You have not made up your mind?"
+
+"Yes ... yes."
+
+"Speak out, then."
+
+"I do really like him."
+
+"But there is a something?"
+
+Now it was she who smiled. "I don't like the way his eyes seem to draw
+me in."
+
+Her father laughed:
+
+"To gloat over you like food. Eh?"
+
+"Yes, exactly."
+
+"He's a bon-viveur, you see--like his father."
+
+"But, like his father, he has so many good qualities," put in Mrs.
+Dawes.
+
+"He has," said Anders Krog seriously.
+
+Mary said no more. She bade them good-night, and offered him her
+forehead to kiss.
+
+A few days later Mary went to Alice's house at an early hour. Anders
+Krog had seen some old Chinese porcelain which he thought of buying;
+but Alice's advice was indispensable. At this time of day and in the
+studio Mary could be certain of finding her alone--at least alone with
+her model.
+
+She went straight in without speaking to the porter. Alice opened the
+door herself. She had on her studio-dress and her hand was dirty, so
+that she could not take Mary's.
+
+"You are busy with a model," whispered Mary.
+
+"I shall be presently," answered Alice with a curious smile. "The model
+is waiting in the next room. But come in."
+
+When Mary passed beyond the curtain she saw the reason why the model was
+waiting in the next room. In the studio sat Frans Röy. Thus early in the
+day and rapt in thought! He did not even notice them entering. This was
+the first time Mary had seen him serious; and seriousness became the
+manly figure and the strong face much better than wanton hilarity.
+
+"Do you not see who has come?" asked Alice.
+
+He sprang up....
+
+The conversation that day was serious. Frans was in a dejected mood; it
+was easy for Mary to divine that they had been talking about her.
+
+They all consequently felt a little awkward at first, until Alice
+turned the conversation on a topic from that morning's newspapers. Two
+murders, instigated by jealousy--one of them of the most terrible
+description--had horrified them all, but especially Frans. He maintained
+that the idea of the marriage relation peculiar to the Romance nations
+is still that of the age when the wife was the husband's property, and
+when, in consequence of this, unfaithfulness was punished by death.
+Christianity, he allowed, in course of time, also made the husband the
+wife's property, especially in Roman Catholic countries. In these the
+spouses rivalled each other in killing--the wife the husband, the
+husband the wife. This assertion gave rise to an argument. Mary agreed
+that neither of the contracting parties owned the other. After marriage,
+as before, they were free individuals, with a right to dispose of
+themselves. Love alone decided. If love ceased, because development made
+of one or other a different being from what he or she was at the time of
+marriage; or if one of them met another human being who took possession
+of his or her soul and thoughts and changed the whole tenor of life,
+then the deserted spouse must submit--neither condemn nor kill. But
+Frans Röy and she disagreed when they discussed what ought to separate
+husband and wife--and still more when they came to what ought to keep
+them together. She was much more exacting than he. He suggested jokingly
+that her theory was: Married people have full liberty to separate, but
+this liberty they must not use. She declared his to be: Married people
+ought as a rule to separate; if they have no real reason, they can
+borrow one.
+
+This conversation meant more to them than the words implied. It
+impressed him as a new beauty in her that she was queenly. This cast a
+new glory over all the rest.
+
+The queenliness did not consist in desire to rule. It was purely
+self-defence; but the loftiest. Her whole nature was concentrated in it,
+luminously. "Touch me not!" said eyes, voice, bearing. There was
+preparedness, undoubtedly, if need were, for the martyr's crown. She
+became much greater--but also more helpless. Such as she look too high
+and fall the first step they take. And great is generally their fall.
+
+Frans gazed at her; he forgot to answer, forgot what she had said. He
+seemed to hear a voice calling: "Protect her!" Chivalry entered into his
+love, and issued its high behests.
+
+Mary saw him withdraw himself from their conversation; but this did not
+stop her; the subject was too absorbing. When he came back to it again
+he heard her divulging her inmost thoughts, undoubtedly with no idea
+that she was doing so. She told what she had thought ever since she
+could think on such subjects at all. It came as naturally to her to do
+so as to lift her dress where the road was dirty, or to swim when she
+could no longer keep her footing.--Individuality must be preserved, must
+grow, be neither curbed nor soiled. With this she began, with this she
+ended. But she was all the time conscious of a curious attraction
+towards Frans which led her to speak out. It was so long since they had
+been together. She did not know that the person who can draw forth our
+thoughts is, in the nature of things, a person who has power over us.
+She only felt that she was obliged to speak--and to keep control over
+herself. A sweet feeling, which she experienced for the first time.
+
+The conversation changed into talk which became ever more intimate, and
+lost itself at last in a silence of looks and long-drawn breaths. Alice
+had gone to her model. They became confused when they discovered that
+they were alone. They stopped talking and looked away from each other.
+
+After short visits to one and another of the many works of art in the
+studio, their attention concentrated itself on a faun without arms. It
+stood laughing at them. They talked about this fragment of antique
+sculpture merely that there might not be silence. Where had it been
+found? To what age did it belong? It must surely have been an animal.
+They spoke in subdued tones, with caressing voices, and unsteady eyes.
+Nor were their feet steadier. They felt themselves lighter than before,
+as if they were in higher air. And it seemed to them as if their
+thoughts lay bare, and they themselves were transparent.
+
+Presently Alice joined them again. She looked at them with eyes that
+awoke both. "Have you done with marriage now?" she asked. It was about
+marriage they had been talking when she left them.
+
+Mary remembered that she had an errand, and that her carriage was
+waiting. Frans Röy also remembered what he ought to be doing. They went
+off together, across the court and through the outer gate, to her
+carriage. But they could not strike the same tone as before, so they did
+not speak.
+
+Hat in hand, Frans opened the carriage-door. Mary got in without raising
+her eyes. When, after seating herself, she turned to bow, the strongest
+eyes she had ever looked into were waiting for her--full of passion and
+reverence.
+
+Two hours later Frans was with Alice again. He could not remain longer
+alone with his heaven-storming hopes.
+
+Where had he been in the interval? In town, buying a cast of Donatello's
+St. Cecilia. He had been obliged to compare. But Alice of course knew,
+he said, how wretchedly inferior Donatello's Cecilia was.
+
+Alice began to be seriously alarmed. "My dear friend, you will spoil
+everything for yourself. It is in your nature."
+
+He answered proudly: "Never yet have I seriously set myself an aim which
+I have not accomplished."
+
+"I quite believe that. You can work, you can overcome difficulties, and
+you can also wait."
+
+"I can."
+
+"But you cannot suppress yourself; you cannot allow her to come to you."
+
+Frans was hurt. "What do you mean, Alice?"
+
+"I want to remind you, dear friend, that you don't know Mary; you don't
+know the world she lives in. You are a bear from the backwoods."
+
+"It may be that I am a bear. I don't deny that. But what if she should
+have become fond of a bear? One is not easily mistaken in such matters."
+
+He would not allow his high hopes to be cast down. He came beseechingly
+towards her--even tried to embrace her; he was given to hugging.
+
+"Come now, Frans; behave yourself. And remember, this is the second time
+you have disturbed me."
+
+"You shall be disturbed. You shall not go on modelling your prisoner in
+there. Dear Alice, my own friend--you shall model my happiness."
+
+"What more can I do for you than I have done?"
+
+"You can procure me admission to the house."
+
+"That is not such an easy matter."
+
+"Bah! You can manage it quite well. You must! you must!"
+
+He talked, coaxed, caressed, until she gave in and promised.
+
+Whatever the reason, her attempt was a failure.
+
+"If I asked my father to receive a young man who has not been introduced
+to him, he would misunderstand me," said Mary. Alice admitted this at
+once. She was angry with herself for not having thought of it. Instead
+of consulting with Mary as to whether the thing might not be managed in
+another way, she gave up the project altogether. She was still annoyed
+when she communicated the result to Frans Röy; she had the feeling, she
+said, that Mary objected to the interference of any third person. She
+impressed on him again that he must be careful. Frans was miserable.
+Alice made no attempt to comfort him.
+
+He came back next day. "I cannot give it up," said he. "And I cannot
+think of anything else."
+
+So long did he sit there, so often did he repeat exactly the same thing
+in different words, and so unhappy was he, that good-natured Alice
+became sorry for him.
+
+"Listen!" she said. "I'll invite you and the Krogs here together. Then
+perhaps the invitation to their house will come of itself."
+
+He jumped up. "That is a splendid idea! Please do, dear Alice!"
+
+"I can't do it immediately. Mr. Krog is ill. We must wait."
+
+He stood looking at her, much disappointed. "But can you not arrange a
+meeting between us two again?"
+
+"Yes, that I might do."
+
+"Do it then--as soon as possible! dear, dear Alice--as soon as
+possible!"
+
+This time Alice was successful. Mary was quite ready to meet him again.
+
+They met at Alice's house, to drive together to the exhibition in the
+Champs Elysées.
+
+To stand together before works of art is the real conversation without
+words. The few words that are spoken awake hundreds. But these remain
+unspoken. The one friend feels through the other, or at least they both
+believe that they do so. They meet in one picture, to separate in
+another. An hour thus spent teaches them more of each other than weeks
+of ordinary intercourse. Alice led the two from picture to picture, but
+was absorbed in her own thoughts--the more completely the farther they
+went. She saw as an artist sees. The others, who began with the
+pictures, gradually passed on to discovery of each other through these.
+With them it was soon a play of undertones, rapid glances, short
+ejaculations, pointing fingers. But those who feel their way to each
+other by secret paths enjoy the process exceedingly, and generally allow
+it to be perceived that they do so. They play a game like that of a pair
+of sea-birds that dive and come up again far away from each other--to
+find their way back to each other. The happiness of the moment was
+increased by the number of eyes which were turned on them.
+
+Downstairs amongst the statuary, Alice led them straight to the centre
+room. She stopped in front of an empty pedestal and turned to the
+official in charge. "Is the acrobat not ready yet?" "No, Mademoiselle,"
+he answered; "unfortunately not."
+
+"There must have been another accident?"
+
+"I do not know, Mademoiselle."
+
+Alice explained to Mary that the statue of an acrobat had been broken in
+the process of setting it up.
+
+"An acrobat?" called Frans Röy. He was standing a short way off; now he
+hastened up to them. "An acrobat? Did I hear you speaking about an
+acrobat?"
+
+"Yes," said they, and laughed.
+
+"Is that anything to laugh at?" said he. "I have a cousin who is an
+acrobat."
+
+The ladies laughed more heartily. Frans was greatly astonished.
+
+"I assure you he is one of the best fellows I know. And marvellously
+clever. The talent runs in our family. As a boy I was two whole summers
+in the circus with him."
+
+The others laughed.
+
+"What the deuce can you be laughing at? I never had a better time in my
+life than in the circus."
+
+The two ladies, unable to control their merriment, hurried towards the
+door. Röy was obliged to follow, but was offended.
+
+"I have not the faintest idea what is amusing you," he said, when they
+were all seated in the carriage. Nevertheless he laughed himself.
+
+The little misunderstanding resulted in all three being in the best of
+humours when they stopped in front of Mary's house. Alice and Frans Röy
+drove on without her. Frans turned blissfully to Alice and asked if he
+had not been a good boy to-day? if he had not kept himself well in hand?
+if his "affair" were not progressing splendidly? He did not wait for her
+answer; he laughed and chattered; and he was determined to go in with
+her. But this Alice had no intention of allowing. Then he demanded, as
+his reward for not persisting, that she should take them both for a
+drive in the Bois de Boulogne, in the direction of La Bagatelle. It was
+to be in the morning, about nine o'clock; then the scent of the trees
+would be strongest, the song of the birds fullest; and then they would
+still have the place to themselves. This she promised.
+
+On the following Friday she called for Mary before nine in the morning,
+and they drove on to pick up Frans Röy.
+
+From a long way off Alice saw him marching up and down on the pavement.
+His face and bearing filled her with a presentiment of mischief. Mary
+could not see him until they stopped. But then a flame rushed into her
+face, kindled by the fire in his. He boarded the carriage like a
+captured vessel. Alice hastened to attract his attention in order to
+avoid an immediate outburst.
+
+"How lovely the morning is," she said; "just because the sun is not
+shining in its full strength! Nothing can be more beautiful than this
+subdued tone over a scene as full of colour as that towards which we are
+driving."
+
+But Frans did not hear; he understood nothing but Mary. The white veil
+thrown back over her red hair, the fresh, half open mouth, deprived him
+of his senses. Alice remarked that the woods had become more fragrant
+since the Japanese trees had grown up. Each time these flung a wanton
+puff in among the sober European wood scents, it was as if foreign birds
+with foreign screams were flying among the trees. Frans Röy at once
+affirmed that the native birds were thereby inspired with new song.
+Never had they sung so gloriously as they were singing that morning.
+
+Alice's fear of an explosion increased. She tried to avoid it by drawing
+his attention to the contrasts of colour in wood and meadow and
+distance. The drive out to La Bagatelle is peculiarly rich in these. But
+Frans was sitting with his back to the horses; he had to turn away from
+Mary and Alice every time to see what Alice wanted him to look at. This
+made him impatient, the more so as Mary and he were each time
+interrupted in their conversation.
+
+"Shall we not rather get out and walk a little?" said he.
+
+But Alice was more afraid of this than anything. What might he not take
+into his head next?
+
+"Do look about you!" she exclaimed. "Is it not as if the colours here
+were singing in chorus?"
+
+"Where?" said Frans crossly.
+
+"Goodness! Don't you see all the varieties of green in the wood itself?
+Just look! And then the green of the meadow against these?"
+
+"I have no desire to see it! Not an atom!" He turned towards the ladies
+again and laughed. "Would it not really be better to get down?" he
+insisted again. "It's ever so much pleasanter to walk in the wood than
+to look at it. The same with the meadows."
+
+"It is forbidden to walk on the grass."
+
+"Confound it! Then let us walk on the road, and look at it all. That is
+surely better than being cooped up in a carriage."
+
+Mary agreed with him.
+
+"Do you suppose that it was to walk I drove you out here? It was to see
+that historic house, La Bagatelle, and the wood surrounding it. There is
+nothing like it anywhere. And then I meant to go as far into the country
+as possible. We can't do all this if we are to walk."
+
+This appeal kept them quiet for a time. The owner of the carriage must
+be allowed to decide. But now Mary, too, was in wild spirits. Her eyes,
+usually thoughtful, shone with happiness. To-day she laughed at all
+Frans's jokes; she laughed at nothing at all. She was perpetually
+coveting flowers which she saw; and each time they had to stop, to
+gather both flowers and leaves. She filled the carriage with them, until
+Alice at last protested. Then she flung them all out, and insisted on
+being allowed to get out herself.
+
+They stopped and alighted.
+
+They had long ago passed La Bagatelle. The carriage was ordered to turn
+and drive slowly back; they followed.
+
+They had not taken many steps before Frans Röy began to turn
+cart-wheels, that is to say, to throw himself forward side-ways upon his
+hands, turn in the air, and fall again upon his feet--then to go off
+again sideways upon his hands, ever onwards, ever faster. Presently he
+turned and came back in the same way. "That is one of my circus tricks,"
+he said, beaming. "Here is another!" He jumped up where he stood, turned
+round in the air, and came down again on his feet on the exact spot from
+which he had jumped--then did the same thing again. "Look. Exactly where
+I jumped from!" he exclaimed triumphantly, and did it two, three, four,
+five times more.
+
+They admired. And it was a sight worthy of admiration; for the ease with
+which the tall, strong man performed the feat made it beautiful.
+Inspired by their praise, he began to spin round at such a rate that
+they could not bear to look. Nor was it beautiful. They turned away and
+screamed. This delighted him tremendously. Annoyed by the fact, Alice
+called out:
+
+"You are a perfect boy; any one would take you for seventeen!"
+
+"How old are you?" asked Mary.
+
+"Over thirty."
+
+They shouted with laughter.
+
+This they should not have done. This he must punish. Before Alice
+divined his intention, he seized her round the waist, turned, and was
+off with her in the most frantic gallop up the road, raising clouds of
+dust. Stout Alice struggled with all her might and screamed. But this
+was of no avail; it only delighted him. Her hat and her shawl fell off.
+Mary ran and picked them up, helpless with laughter; for these ungainly
+and perfectly useless attempts at resistance were irresistibly comic. At
+last Frans turned, and they came back again at the same wild pace and
+stopped where Mary stood--Alice's face distorted, perspiring, and red.
+Her breathless rage, incapable of utterance, made Mary explode. Frans
+sang: Hop sa-sa! hop-sa-sa! in front of the angry lady, until she could
+speak and abuse him. Then he laughed.
+
+"And you--?" said Mary, now turning to Frans. "Has it not tired you at
+all?"
+
+"Not much. I'm quite prepared to take the same trip with you."
+
+Mary was horrified. She had just given Alice her hat, and was standing
+holding the shawl and her own hat, which she had taken off. With a cry
+she threw both from her and set off in the homeward direction, towards
+the waiting carriage.
+
+Not for an instant had Frans Röy thought of doing what he threatened. He
+had spoken in jest. But when he saw her run, and with a speed for which
+he would have given neither her nor any other woman credit, his
+soldier's blood took it as a challenge. Alice saw this and said
+hurriedly: "Don't do it." The words flung themselves in his way so
+insistently that he stood doubtful. But Mary yonder on the road in the
+white dress with the red hair above it, running with a step so swift and
+light that the very rhythm of it allured him, nay, bereft him of his
+senses ... he was off before he knew what he was about, just as Alice
+called for the second time, in an agonised tone: "Don't do it!"
+
+The strip of light above the dust of the road in front of him shone into
+his eyes and his imagination like the sun. It blinded him. He ran
+without consciousness of what he was doing. He ran as if: "Catch me!
+Catch me!" were being shouted in front the whole time. He ran as if the
+winning of life's highest prize depended on his reaching Mary.
+
+She had a long start of him. Precisely this incited to the uttermost
+exertion of all his powers. A race for happiness with one who desired to
+be beaten! Blood at the boiling point surged in his ears; desire burned
+in it. The longings of all these days and nights were tumultuously
+urging him on to victory. Speak they would at last. No, speech would be
+uncalled for; he would have her in his arms.
+
+Now Mary turned her head--saw him, gave a cry, gathered up her dress.
+She actually owned a still swifter pace, did she! Madness seized Frans.
+He believed that the cry was a lure. He saw Mary make a forward sign
+with her hand; he believed that she was showing where she would stop and
+consider herself safe. He must reach her before she got there. He, too,
+had a last spurt in reserve; it brought him with a rush close in upon
+her. He seemed to perceive the fragrance exhaling from her; next moment
+he must hear her breathing. He was so excited that he did not know he
+had touched her until she looked round. She let her dress fall at once,
+and after one or two more swift steps, stood still. His arm went round
+her waist; he was on fire; he drew her tightly to him--to hear the
+angriest: "Let me go!" Want of breath gave it its excessive sharpness.
+Frans was appalled, but felt that he must support her until she
+recovered breath, and therefore retained his hold. Again came with the
+same compressed sharpness of breathlessness: "You are no gentleman!" He
+let go.
+
+The clatter of horses' hoofs was heard; the carriage was approaching
+rapidly. The servants on the box must have witnessed the whole
+occurrence; it was to them she had waved. During his wild chase he had
+seen her alone.
+
+Now she walked towards the carriage. She held her handkerchief to her
+face; she was crying. The servant jumped down and opened the carriage
+door.
+
+Frans turned away, desperate, his mind paralysed. Alice came up. She was
+carrying her own shawl and Mary's hat, and went straight towards the
+carriage without taking notice of him. When he attempted to join her,
+she waved him off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The third day after the occurrence Frans called upon Alice. He was told
+that she was not at home. The following day he received the same answer.
+After this he was absent from Paris for some days; but immediately on
+his return he called again. "She has just gone out," answered the
+servant. But this time he simply pushed the man aside and went in.
+
+Alice stood eagerly examining a collection of objects of art; table and
+chairs were covered with them, they stood about everywhere. "Alice--!"
+said Frans, gently and reproachfully. She started, and at that moment he
+caught sight of her father behind her. He at once came forward as if he
+had said nothing.
+
+The art treasures were collected and laid aside, Frans assisting. Mr.
+Clerc left the room.
+
+"Alice!" now repeated Frans Röy in the same reproachful tone. "You
+surely do not mean to close your door to me? And just when I am so
+unhappy?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"We who have always been such good friends and had such good times
+together?"
+
+Alice looked away from him and gave no answer.
+
+"Even if I have behaved foolishly, we two surely know each other too
+well for that to separate us?"
+
+"There are limits to everything," he heard her say.
+
+He was silent for a moment. "Limits? limits? Come now, Alice. Between us
+there is surely no--"
+
+Before he could say more she broke out: "It is inexcusable to behave in
+such a way before other people!" She was scarlet.
+
+"Yes. You mean?" He did not understand.
+
+She turned away. "To treat me in such a manner before Mary----what must
+Mary think?"
+
+Never until now had it occurred to him that he had behaved badly to her,
+to Alice, too; all this time he had thought only of Mary. Now, ashamed
+of himself, dreadfully ashamed of himself, he came forward.
+
+"Will you pardon me, Alice? I was so happy that I did not think. I
+didn't understand till this moment. Forgive a poor sinner! Won't you
+look at me?"
+
+She turned her head towards him; her eyes were unhappy and full of
+tears; they met his, which were also unhappy, but beseeching. It was not
+long before his and hers melted into each other. He stretched out his
+arms, embraced her, tried to kiss her; but this he was not allowed to
+do.
+
+"Alice, dear, sweet Alice, you will help me again!"
+
+"It is of no use. You spoil everything."
+
+"After this, I will do every single thing you ask me."
+
+"You promised the same before."
+
+"But now I have learned a lesson. Now I shall keep my promise. On my
+honour!"
+
+"Your promises are not to be relied on. For you do not understand."
+
+"I don't understand?"
+
+"No, you don't understand in the least who she is!"
+
+"I confess that I must have been mistaken, for even now I fail to
+comprehend what made her so angry."
+
+"That I can quite believe."
+
+"Yes. When she threw everything away and ran, I felt certain that it was
+to get me to run after her."
+
+"Did you not hear me call twice: 'Don't do it!'?"
+
+"Yes, but I did not understand that either."
+
+Alice sat down with a hopeless feeling. She said no more; she thought it
+useless to do so. He seated himself opposite to her.
+
+"Explain it to me, Alice! Did you not see how she laughed when I danced
+off with you?"
+
+"Has it not dawned upon you yet that there is a difference between us
+and her?"
+
+"Mary Krog is most unassuming; she makes no pretensions whatever."
+
+"Quite so. But now you are misunderstanding me again. Whereas we are
+ordinary beings, whom other people may touch with impunity, she dwells
+in a remoteness which no one as yet has diminished by one foot. It is
+not from pride or vanity that she does so."
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"She _is_ like that. If she were not, she would have been captured and
+married long ago. You surely don't imagine that proposals have been
+wanting?"
+
+"Everyone knows they have not."
+
+"Ask Mrs. Dawes! She keeps a diary of them in her thousand letters. She
+writes about nothing else now."
+
+"But what, then, is the explanation of it, dear Alice?"
+
+"It is quite simple. She is gentle, sweet-tempered, obliging--all this
+and more. But she dwells in an enchanted land, into which none may
+intrude. She preserves it inviolate with extraordinary vigilance and
+tact."
+
+"To touch her is forbidden, you mean?"
+
+"Absolutely! Fancy your not understanding that yet!"
+
+"I did understand; but I forgot."
+
+Frans Röy sat silent as if he were listening to something far away.
+Again he heard the sharp cries of fear which thrilled through the air as
+he drew near, saw the terrified sign to the carriage, felt Mary's
+trembling body, heard the ejaculation uttered with all her remaining
+strength, saw her walk on, weeping. All at once he understood! What a
+stupid, coarse criminal he was!
+
+He sat there dumb, miserable.
+
+But it was not in his nature to give up. His face soon brightened.
+
+"After all, dear Alice, it was only a game."
+
+"To her it was more. You are surely not still in doubt as to that?"
+
+"She has been pursued before, you mean?"
+
+"In many different ways."
+
+"Consequently she imagined----?"
+
+"Of course. You saw that she did."
+
+He did not reply.
+
+"But now tell me, my dear Frans--was it not more than a game to you,
+too? Was it not all-decisive?"
+
+He bowed his head, ashamed. Then he walked across the room and came
+back.
+
+"She is a queen. She will not be captured. I should have stopped----?"
+
+"You should never have gone after her. And she would have been yours
+now."
+
+Frans seated himself again as if a heavy weight were pressing on his
+shoulders.
+
+"Did she say anything?" asked Alice with a searching look.
+
+He would have preferred not to tell, but the question was repeated.
+
+"She said that I was no gentleman."
+
+Alice declared this to be too bad. Frans then asked if Mary had said
+anything to her in the carriage.
+
+"Not a word. But I spoke. I abused you--well."
+
+"She has not referred to the matter since?"
+
+Alice shook her head. "Your name is erased from her dictionary, my
+friend."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some days after this Frans received by tube-post a hurried note which
+informed him that at eleven that morning the two ladies would again be
+at the exhibition in the Champs Elysées. It was eleven when the note
+came.
+
+Mary had called to ask Alice to go with her to look at a Dutch coast
+landscape which her father wished to buy. They considered the price
+rather high; possibly Alice would be able to make better terms. Mary's
+carriage was waiting at the door. Alice left her, wrote hastily to Frans
+Röy, and then went to dress, which to-day, contrary to custom, took her
+a long time. They drove to the exhibition, found the picture, and went
+to the office, where they had to wait. After making their offer and
+giving the address, they returned to the ground-floor of the exhibition
+in search of the acrobat. He stood there now in all his manly strength.
+Alice reached him first, and exclaimed "Why! it is----," then stopped
+short and walked away from Mary. She examined the statue from every
+side, over and over again, without saying a word. Precisely that which
+distinguished Frans Röy--that his strength did not announce itself in
+distended muscle, but in the elasticity of a beautifully formed, lithe
+body--was to be observed here. Frans Röy's toss of the head, his broad
+forehead aslant in the air, his hand, his short, strong foot--everything
+was here! The statue affected the beholder like a war-song. For the
+first time Alice found the word for the effect which Frans produced. She
+was carried away by the statue as by the rhythm of a march. Exactly what
+she had often felt when she saw Frans walk! Was this likeness a curious
+accident, or had he really ... she turned quite hot and had to walk away
+from the statue and look at something else.
+
+Mary had all the time kept behind Alice, who had quite forgotten her.
+The question now involuntarily occurred to Alice: Does Mary understand
+what she sees?
+
+She waited a little before she began to observe. Mary, who was now
+standing in front of the statue, with her back towards Alice, remained
+so long motionless that the latter's curiosity increased. She went
+round and stationed herself among the statues opposite, put on her
+eye-glass, and looked across. Mary's eyes were half closed; her bosom
+was heaving. She walked slowly round the statue, then retired to a
+distance, came back, and stood still again midway between front and
+side.
+
+Then she looked round for Alice and caught sight of the eye-glasses
+turned in her direction; Alice was actually holding them on, to see
+clearer. There could be no mistake--her face was one mischievous smile.
+
+There are things which one woman objects to another understanding.
+Mary's blood surged; angry and hurt, she took Alice's look as an insult.
+She turned her back quickly on the acrobat and walked towards the door.
+But she stopped once or twice, pretending to look at other pieces of
+sculpture, really to obtain mastery over the uproar in her breast. At
+last she reached the door. She did not look round to see if Alice were
+following; she passed through the entrance hall and left the building.
+
+But just as she did so, Frans Röy hurried up--as quickly as if he had
+been sent for and were arriving too late. He tore off his hat without
+getting even a nod in answer. He saw nothing but a pair of vacant eyes.
+
+"Oh, please don't be angry any longer!" he said with his broadest
+east-country accent, good-humouredly and boyishly. Mary's face cleared;
+she could not help herself; she smiled, and was actually going to take
+his outstretched hand--when she saw his eyes travel with the speed of
+lightning to a point behind her and come back with the least little
+particle of triumph in them. She turned her head and met Alice's eyes.
+In them there was any amount both of mischief and rejoicing. There had
+been a plot then! Mary was transformed. As if from the highest church
+steeple she looked down upon them both--and left them. Her carriage was
+waiting a short way off; she motioned, and it came in a wide sweep to
+where she stood. There was no footman; she opened the door before Frans
+Röy could come to her assistance, and got in as if no one were there.
+When seated she looked--past Frans--to see if Alice were coming. Fat
+Alice was waddling slowly along. It was plain, even from a distance,
+that a wild struggle with suppressed laughter was going on within her.
+And when she arrived and saw Mary sitting in state looking to the one
+side, and Frans Röy, the giant, standing on the other like a frightened
+recruit, she could resist no longer; she gave way to a fit of laughter
+which shook her heavy body from head to foot. She laughed until the
+tears rolled down her cheeks, laughed so that it was with difficulty and
+not without assistance she found the carriage-step and hauled herself
+up. She sank on the seat beside Mary, convulsed with laughter; the
+carriage shook, as she sat with her handkerchief to her face,
+suppressing screams. She caught a glimpse of Mary's scarlet anger and
+Frans Röy's pale dismay--and laughed the louder. The very coachman was
+obliged to laugh too, though what the devil it was about he did not
+know. And thus they drove off.
+
+Another unsuccessful expedition, another defeat of the highest hopes! It
+was a long time before Alice could say anything. Then she began by
+pitying Frans Röy.
+
+"You are too severe with him, Mary. Goodness! how miserable he looked!"
+And the laughter began again.
+
+But Mary, who had been sitting waiting for an opportunity, now broke
+out:
+
+"What have I to do with your protégé?"
+
+And as if this were not enough, she bent forward to face Alice's
+laughing eyes:
+
+"You are confusing me with yourself. It is you who are in love with
+him. Do you imagine that I have not seen that for ever so long? You know
+best yourselves in what relation you stand to each other. That is no
+affair of mine. But the 'De'[B] which you both keep up--is it for the
+purpose of concealment?"
+
+    [B] _You_ as distinguished from the familiar _thou_.
+
+Alice's laughter ceased. She turned pale, so pale that Mary was alarmed.
+Mary tried to withdraw her eyes, but could not; Alice's held them fast
+through painful changes until they lost all expression. Then Alice's
+head sank back, whilst a long, heavy sigh resembling the groan of a
+wounded animal escaped her.
+
+Mary sat motionless, aghast at her own speech.
+
+But it was irrevocable.
+
+Alice suddenly raised her head again and told the coachman to stop. "I
+have a call to make at this house." The carriage stopped; she opened the
+door, stepped out, and shut it after her.
+
+With a long look at Mary, she said:
+
+"Good-bye!"
+
+"Good-bye!" was answered in a low tone.
+
+Both felt that it was for ever.
+
+Mary drove on. As soon as she reached home, she went straight to the
+private drawing-room; she had something to say to her father. Before
+she opened the door, she heard piano-playing, and understood that Jörgen
+Thiis was there. But this did not stop her. With her hat and spring
+cloak still on, she unexpectedly appeared in the room. Jörgen Thiis
+jumped up from the piano and came towards her, his eyes filling with
+admiration; her face was all aglow from the tumult within. But something
+proud and repellent in its sparkle caused him to give up his intention
+of closer approach.
+
+Then his eyes assumed the gloating, greedy expression which Mary so
+detested. With a slight bow she passed him and went up to her father,
+who was sitting as usual in the big chair with a book upon his knee.
+
+"Father, what do you say to our going home now?"
+
+Every face brightened. Mrs. Dawes exclaimed: "Jörgen Thiis has just been
+asking when we intend to go; he wants to travel with us."
+
+Mary did not turn towards Jörgen but continued: "I think the steamer
+sails from Havre to-morrow?"
+
+"It does," answered her father; "but we can't possibly be ready by that
+time?"
+
+"Yes, we can!" said Mrs. Dawes. "We have this whole afternoon."
+
+"I shall be delighted to help," said Jörgen Thiis.
+
+Now Mary bestowed a friendly look on him, before mentioning the price
+which Alice had advised her to offer for the Dutch coast landscape her
+father wished to buy. She then went off to begin her own packing.
+
+The four met again before the hotel dinner at half-past seven. Mary came
+into the room looking tired. Jörgen Thiis went up to her and said:
+
+"I hear that you have made Frans Röy's acquaintance, Miss Krog?"
+
+Her father and Mrs. Dawes were listening attentively. This showed that
+Jörgen must have been talking with them on the subject before she
+entered. Every new male acquaintance she made was a source of anxiety to
+them. Mary coloured; she felt herself doing so, and the red deepened.
+The two were watching.
+
+"I have met him at Miss Clerc's," replied Mary. "She and her mother
+spent several summers in Norway, and were intimate with his family
+there; they belong to the same town. Is there anything more you wish to
+know?"
+
+Jörgen Thiis stood dismayed. The others stared. He said hastily: "I have
+just been telling your father and Mrs. Dawes that we younger officers
+consider Frans Röy the best man we have. So I spoke with no unfriendly
+intention."
+
+"Nor did I suspect you of any. But as I myself have not mentioned the
+acquaintance here, I do not think that the subject ought to be
+introduced by strangers."
+
+In utter consternation Jörgen stammered that, that, that he had had no
+other intention in doing so than to, to, to....
+
+"I know that," Mary replied, cutting short the conversation.
+
+They went down to dinner. At table Jörgen as a matter of course returned
+to the subject. It could not be allowed to drop thus. All Frans Röy's
+brother officers, he said, regretted that he had exchanged into the
+engineers. He was a particularly able strategist. Their military
+exercises, both theoretical and practical, had provided him with
+opportunities to distinguish himself. Jörgen gave instances, but the
+others did not understand them. So he went on to tell anecdotes of Frans
+Röy as a comrade, as an officer. These were supposed to show how popular
+and how ready-witted he was. Mary declared that they chiefly showed how
+boyish he was. Thereupon Jörgen said that he had only heard the stories
+from others; Frans Röy was older than he.
+
+"What do _you_ think of him?" he suddenly asked in a very innocent
+manner.
+
+Mary did not answer immediately. Her father and Mrs. Dawes looked up.
+
+"He talks a great deal too much."
+
+Jörgen laughed. "Yes; but how can he help that--he who has so much
+strength?"
+
+"Must it be exercised upon us?"
+
+They all laughed, and the strain which had been making them
+uncomfortable relaxed. Krog and Mrs. Dawes felt safe, as far as Frans
+Röy was concerned. So did Jörgen Thiis.
+
+At half-past eight they went upstairs again. Mary at once retired to her
+room, pleading fatigue. She lay and listened to Jörgen playing. Then she
+lay and wept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next evening, on the sea, wide and motionless, the faint twilight
+ushered in the summer night. Two pillars of smoke rose in the distance.
+Except for these, the dull grey above and beneath was unbroken. Mary
+leaned against the rail. No one was in sight, and the thud of the engine
+was the only sound.
+
+She had been listening to music downstairs, and had left the others
+there. An unspeakable feeling of loneliness had driven her up to this
+barren outlook--clouds as far as the eye could reach.
+
+Nothing but clouds; not even the reflection of the sun which had gone
+down.
+
+And was there anything more than this left of the brightness of the
+world from which she came? Was there not the very same emptiness in and
+around herself? The life of travel was now at an end; neither her father
+nor Mrs. Dawes could or would continue to lead it; this she understood.
+At Krogskogen there was not one neighbour she cared for. In the town,
+half an hour's journey off, there was not a human being to whom she was
+bound by any tie of intimacy. She had never given herself time to make
+such ties. She was at home nowhere. The life which springs from the soil
+of a place and unites us to everything that grows there was not hers.
+Wherever she made her appearance, the conversation seemed to stop, in
+order that another subject, suited to her, might be introduced. The
+globe-trotters who wandered about with her talked of incidents of
+travel, of the art-galleries and the music of the towns which they were
+visiting--occasionally, too, of problems which pursued them, let them
+go where they would. But of these not one affected her personally. The
+conventional utterances on such subjects she knew by heart. Indeed, the
+whole was either a kind of practice in language, or else aimless chat to
+pass the time.
+
+The homage paid her, which at times verged on worship, had begun when
+she was still a child and took it as fun. In course of time it had
+become as familiar to her as the figures of a quadrille. One incident
+which alarmed the whole family, a couple of incidents which were
+painful, had been long forgotten; the admiration she received meant
+nothing to her--she remained unsatisfied and lonely.
+
+A convulsive start--and Frans Röy's giant form suddenly appeared before
+her--so plain, so exact in the smallest detail, that she felt as if she
+could not stir because of him.
+
+He was not like the rest. Was it this that had frightened her?
+
+The very thought of him made her tremble. Without her willing it, Alice
+stood beside him, fat and sensual, with desire in her eyes.... What was
+the relation between these two?... A moment of darkness, one of pain,
+one of fury. Then Mary wept.
+
+She heard a loud, dull roar, and turned in its direction. An
+ocean-steamer was bearing down on them--an apparition so unexpected and
+so gigantic that it took away her breath. It rose out of the sea without
+warning, and rushed towards them at tremendous speed, becoming larger
+and larger, a fire-mountain of great and small lights. With a roar it
+came and it went. One moment, and it was seen in the far distance.
+
+What an impression it made on her, this life rushing past on its way
+from continent to continent, with its suggestion of constant, fruitful
+exchange of thoughts and labour! whilst she herself lay drifting in a
+little tub, which was rocked so violently by the waves from the
+world-colossus that she had to cling to the first support that offered.
+
+She was alone again in the great void. Deserted. For was it not
+desertion that everything she had seen and heard in three continents--of
+the life of the nations, their toil and their pleasure, their art, their
+music--should have to be left behind? She had seen and heard; and now
+she was alone, in a dreary, stagnant waste.
+
+
+
+
+AT HOME
+
+
+The reality was something quite different.
+
+She saw, the moment she set foot on land, that both old and young were
+unfeignedly happy to see her again. Every face brightened. Every one
+whom they met on the way up to the market-place recognised and greeted
+her with pleasure. She had not thought of them, but they had thought of
+her.
+
+From the house on the market-place they were to go on later in the day
+to Krogskogen, with the coasting-steamer. In the interval many of their
+relations called, who all expressed great pleasure at seeing them home
+again at last. They told what a success Mary's Spanish portrait had
+been--in their own town, in Christiania, and then on its tour with other
+pictures through the country. The notices--but these she had of course
+read? No, she had read no newspapers, except occasionally one published
+at the place where they were living. "Do you read no home newspapers?"
+"Yes, when Father shows me them." Had not her father, had not Mrs.
+Dawes, told her anything? "No." Why, she was famous now throughout the
+whole of Norway. For this was the third portrait of her--or was it the
+fourth? Anyhow it was the finest. It had been reproduced in the
+illustrated newspapers; and also in an English art-magazine, the
+_Studio_. Did she not know that? "No." The young people here were very
+proud of her. They had put off their spring picnic and dance until she
+came home.
+
+"You are to be fêted!"
+
+"I?"
+
+"The picnic is to be at Marielyst. One steamer goes from here, and
+another comes from the places on the opposite side. Jörgen Thiis planned
+it all in Paris."
+
+"Jörgen Thiis?"
+
+"Yes. Did he not tell you about it?"
+
+"No."
+
+As soon as the callers left, Mary went to her father, who was unpacking
+some of the art treasures which were to remain in town.
+
+"Father, is it the case that you sent my portraits to exhibitions?"
+
+He smiled, and said: "Yes, my child, I did. And they have given pleasure
+to many. I was asked to send them. They wrote and asked me each time."
+
+He spoke in such a gentle voice, and Mary thought it so considerate of
+him that he had not told her, and had forbidden Mrs. Dawes to
+tell--probably Jörgen Thiis too--that she did what she very seldom did,
+went up to him and kissed him.
+
+So this was what her father, Mrs. Dawes, and Jörgen Thiis had so often
+sat whispering about. This was why the home newspapers had been kept
+from her. Everything had been planned--even to the proposal to travel
+home at this particular moment! She almost began to like Jörgen Thiis.
+
+When they left for Krogskogen in the afternoon, a crowd of young people
+assembled on the pier called: "Au revoir on Sunday!"
+
+Mary was charmed with the view as they sailed along. The short half hour
+was spent, as it were, in recognising one old acquaintance after
+another. The new, or at least much altered, high road along the coast
+was now finished. It looked remarkably well, especially where it cut
+across the headlands, often through the rock. At Krogskogen it led, as
+before, from the one point across the level to the other, passing close
+to the landing-place and directly below the chapel and the churchyard.
+
+And Krogskogen itself--how snugly it lay! She had remembered its
+loneliness, but had forgotten how beautiful it was. This calm,
+glittering bay with the sea-birds! The ripple yonder where the river
+flows in, the level land stretching back between the heights, and these
+in their robes of green! Were the trees round the house really no
+higher? How nice it looked, the house--long and white, with black window
+frames and black foundation wall. From one chimney thick smoke was
+rising, in cheerful welcome. She jumped on shore before the others and
+ran on in front. A little girl, between eight and ten, who was running
+down from the house, stopped when she saw Mary, and rushed back as hard
+as she could. But Mary overtook her at the steps. "I've caught you!" she
+cried, turning her round. "Who are you?" The fair-haired, smiling
+creature was unable to answer. On the steps stood the maids, and one of
+them said that the child's name was Nanna, and that she was there to run
+errands. "You shall be my little maid!" said Mary, and led her up the
+steps. She nodded to each of the women, and felt that they were
+disappointed because she hurried on without speaking to them. She was
+longing to set foot on the thick carpets, to feel the peculiar light of
+the hall about her, to see the huge cupboards and all the pictures and
+curios of the Dutch days. And she was longing even more to reach her own
+room. The silence of the stairs and of the long, rather dark
+passage--never had it played such a game of whispers with her as it did
+to-day. She felt it like something soft, half-hidden, confidential and
+close. It was still speaking when she reached the door of her room; it
+actually kept her from opening the door for a moment.
+
+Ah!--the room lay steeped in sunshine from the open window which looked
+over the outbuildings to the ridge. Paler light entered from that
+looking on the orchard and the bay below, the water of which glittered
+between the trees. Beyond the trees were seen the islands and the open
+sea, at this moment pale grey. But from the hill, now in fairest leaf
+and flower, the fragrance of spring poured in. The room itself, in its
+white purity, lay like a receptacle for it. There everything arranged
+itself reverently round the bed, which stood in the middle of the floor.
+It was more than a bed for a princess; it was the princess herself;
+everything else seemed to do homage to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The excursion to Marielyst was in every way a success. But during the
+course of it a coolness arose between Mary and Jörgen Thiis.
+
+It happened thus. Jörgen came on board with a tall, strongly-built lady,
+the sight of whose broad forehead, kindly eyes, small nose, and
+projecting chin brought a slight blush to Mary's cheeks, which she
+concealed by rising and asking: "Are you not a sister of Captain Frans
+Röy?"
+
+"She is," answered Jörgen Thiis. "For safety's sake we are taking a
+doctor with us."
+
+"I am glad to meet you," said Mary. "Of course I have heard your brother
+speak of you; he has a great admiration for you."
+
+"So we all have," Jörgen Thiis declared as he left them.
+
+Miss Röy herself had not spoken yet. But her scrutinising eyes expressed
+admiration of Mary. Now she seated herself beside her.
+
+"Are you to be at home long?"
+
+"I can't say. Possibly we shall not travel any more; my father is not
+strong enough now."
+
+Miss Röy did not speak again for some time; she sat observing. Mary
+thought to herself: It is tactful of her not to begin a conversation
+about her brother.
+
+The two ladies kept together during the sail. And they also sat beside
+each other when dessert was served out of doors at Marielyst and
+speeches were made. The success of the entertainment went to Jörgen
+Thiis's head. One after another came round to him and drank his health;
+he became sentimental, and made a speech. His toast was "the ideal, the
+eternal ideal." Fortunate the man to whom it was revealed in his youth!
+He bore it in his breast as his inextinguishable guiding lamp on the
+path of life! Pale and excited, Jörgen emptied his glass and flung it
+away.
+
+This sudden earnestness came so unexpectedly upon the merry company that
+they laughed--one and all.
+
+Miss Röy said to Mary: "You met Lieutenant Thiis abroad?"
+
+"Both this winter and last," answered Mary carelessly; she was eating
+ice.
+
+A young girl was standing beside them. "He is a curious man, Jörgen
+Thiis," said she. "He is so amiable with us; but he is said to be a
+perfect tyrant with the soldiers."
+
+Mary turned towards her in surprise. "A tyrant--in what way?"
+
+"They say that he irritates them dreadfully--is exacting and
+ill-tempered, and punishes for nothing."
+
+Mary turned her largest eyes upon Margrete Röy.
+
+"Yes, it is true," said the latter indifferently; she, too, was eating
+ice.
+
+When, late in the evening, after the dance, they were all trooping down
+to the steamer, Mary and Jörgen arm in arm, she said to him: "Is it true
+that the soldiers under your command complain of you?"
+
+"It is quite likely that they do, Miss Krog." He laughed.
+
+"Is there anything to laugh about in that?"
+
+"There is certainly nothing to cry about."
+
+He was in a very jovial mood, and would fain have put his arm round her
+and danced down to the pier, as many of the others were doing. But Mary
+warded him off.
+
+"I was very sorry to hear it," she said.
+
+Then he understood that she was in earnest.
+
+"The fact is, Miss Krog, that Norwegians, generally speaking, don't know
+what obedience and discipline are. During the short time we have them
+under command, we must teach them."
+
+"Teach them in what way?"
+
+"In small things, of course."
+
+"By plaguing them about small things?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Giving orders for which they see no necessity?"
+
+"Precisely. They must learn to give up reasoning. They must obey. And
+what they do, they must do properly; exactly as it should be done."
+
+Mary did not answer. She addressed another couple who now made up to
+them, and continued doing so till they all reached the pier.
+
+On board the steamer she noticed that Jörgen Thiis was out of humour.
+When they landed, he was not standing at the gangway. Without any
+previous arrangement, the whole party accompanied her home to the house
+on the market-place. They sang and shouted under the windows until she
+came out on the balcony and threw flowers down on them--those she had
+brought home with her and any more she could find. Then they dispersed,
+laughing and joking.
+
+As they were going off, she looked for Jörgen; he was not there. This
+vexed her; she felt that she had rewarded him ill for one of the most
+delightful days in her life.
+
+Entertainments, large and small, followed one on the other. But Jörgen
+Thiis was absent from them all. He had first gone home to see his
+parents, then to Christiania. Mary had never devoted much thought to
+Jörgen Thiis, but now that he kept away, she could not help remembering
+that she had chiefly him to thank for the happy meeting with the young
+people of her own age. And that remarkable toast of his--"fidelity to
+the ideal"--at the time he proposed it she had merely thought: How
+sentimental Jörgen Thiis can be! Now she thought: Perhaps it was an
+allusion to me? She was accustomed to such exaggerations; and she did
+not care in the least for Jörgen Thiis. But when she remembered how
+deeply in love he had fallen at their first meeting, and how all these
+years he had been exactly the same whenever and wherever they met, the
+matter assumed a more serious aspect. The gloating, greedy eyes acquired
+something almost touching. The fact that he could not bear to be with
+her when she was the least displeased with him was another proof of the
+strength of his attachment. His saying nothing, but simply staying away,
+appealed to her.
+
+One day Mille Falke, the consumptive head-schoolmaster's pretty, gentle
+wife, came out to see Mary. She had had a letter from Jörgen Thiis. A
+party of ten Christiania people had arranged a trip to the North Cape.
+They had taken their berths two months ago; now circumstances prevented
+their going. Jörgen Thiis had been asked if he could not take the
+tickets and find nine people to accompany him on the glorious
+excursion. In the small towns there was more neighbourliness; it was
+easier there to make up such a party. Jörgen Thiis declared himself
+willing if Mary Krog would agree to go; he knew that in this case he
+would have no trouble in finding others.
+
+Mrs. Falke laid the matter before Mary with the soft, feline
+persuasiveness which few could resist. Mary had, however, not the
+slightest desire either to sit on the deck of a steamer in the midsummer
+heat, or to interrupt all that was going on at home--it was much too
+pleasant. At the same time she was unwilling to offend Jörgen Thiis
+again. She consulted with her father and Mrs. Dawes; she listened once
+again to Mrs. Falke--and consented.
+
+Early in July the party assembled at night on board the coasting-steamer
+which was to take them to Bergen, the starting-point of the excursion
+proper. They were six ladies and four gentlemen. The eldest lady was the
+respected principal of the chief girls' school in the town--mother of
+one of the gentlemen and former instructress of three of the other
+ladies. She was the moral support of the party. Two of its members were
+on their honeymoon, and they were teased by the others the whole time.
+It was worth doing, for they were quick-witted, both of them, and gave
+as good as they got. Then there was a young merchant, who paid attention
+to two of the ladies, unable--so it was averred--to make up his mind
+which he liked best. The whole party, including the ladies in question,
+did their best to assist him in coming to a decision. The very first
+night on the coasting-steamer, a schoolmaster was christened "the
+forsaken one." All the others, with the exception of the old lady kept
+up a constant racket; no one slept. He alone could neither dance nor
+sing, and he was incapable of flirting; he could not even be flirted
+with, it put him out so terribly. The consequence was that all the
+ladies, even Mary, made love to "the forsaken one," simply to enjoy his
+misery.
+
+The originator of most of the mischief that went on was Jörgen Thiis;
+teasing was his passion. His inventiveness in this domain was not always
+free from malice.
+
+At first he himself was unmolested. But in course of time even "the
+forsaken one" ventured to attack him. His appetite, his inclination to
+tyrannise, and especially his role as Mary's humble servant, were made
+subjects of jest. Mary had the Krogs' keen eye for exaggeration in every
+shape, so she laughed along with the rest, even when it was at his
+submissiveness to her they were laughing. Jörgen was not in the least
+disturbed. He ate as much as ever, was as strict as ever in his capacity
+of leader, and continued, unmoved, to play the part of Mary's inventive,
+ever-ready squire.
+
+The ship had its full complement of passengers, amongst them a number of
+foreigners; but Jörgen Thiis's merry party was the centre of attraction.
+Nature made such perpetual calls on the passengers' admiration that they
+were not in too close and constant contact with each other. It was as if
+they were attending some grand performance. One marvel followed the
+other. The length of the days, too, had its influence. Each night was
+shorter than the last, until there was none at all. They sailed on into
+unquenchable, inextinguishable light, and this produced a kind of
+intoxication. They drank, they danced, they sang; they were all equally
+highly strung. They proposed things which under other circumstances
+would have seemed impossible; here they were in keeping with the
+wildness of the landscape, the intoxication of the light. One day in a
+strong wind Mary lost her hat; two cavaliers jumped overboard after it.
+One of them was, of course, Jörgen Thiis. The minds of all were working
+at higher pressure than that of every day. Some of them became exhausted
+and slept whole days and nights. But most of them held out--at least as
+long as they were northward bound--Mary amongst the number.
+
+Jörgen Thiis, with his persistent deference, in the end obliged all of
+them to treat Mary more or less as he did himself. Nor did anything
+occur the whole time to disturb this position of hers--thanks
+principally to her own carefully cultivated reserve of manner.
+
+When they returned to the coasting-steamer, genuine gratitude prompted
+her to invite Jörgen Thiis to go home with her to Krogskogen. "I can't
+stand such a sudden break-up," she said.
+
+He stayed for some days, delighted with the beauty and comfort of
+everything. Such art taste as he possessed lay chiefly in the direction
+of knick-knacks; he was devoted to foreign curios, and of these there
+was abundance. The rooms and their furniture and decorations were
+exactly to his taste. To Mrs. Dawes, who encouraged him to speak freely,
+he confided that the comfort and quiet disposed him amorously. He sat
+often and long at the piano extemporising; and it was always in an
+erotic strain.
+
+He treated Mary with the same deference when they were alone as when
+they were in company with others. All the time she had known him he had
+not let fall a single word which could be interpreted as a preface to
+love-making, no, not even as the preface to a preface. And this she
+appreciated.
+
+They wandered together through the woods and the fields. They rowed
+together to relations' houses to pay calls. Jörgen had the key to the
+bathing-house, where he went before any one else was up, and often again
+after their excursions.
+
+Mary herself had become more sociable. Jörgen told her so.
+
+"Yes," answered she. "The Norwegian young people associate with each
+other more like brothers and sisters than those of other countries, and
+are consequently different--freer, franker. They have infected me."
+
+One morning Jörgen had to go to town, and Mary accompanied him. She
+wished to call on Uncle Klaus, his foster-father, whom she had not seen
+since she came home.
+
+Klaus was sitting behind a cloud of smoke, like a spider behind its grey
+web. He jumped up when he saw Mary enter, declared he was ashamed of
+himself, and led her into the big drawing-room. Jörgen had warned her
+that he was not likely to be in a good humour; he had been losing money
+again. And they had not sat long in the empty, stiff drawing-room before
+he began to complain of the times. As was his habit, he rounded his
+back and sprawled out his legs, supporting his elbows on them and
+pressing the points of his long fingers together.
+
+"Yes, you two are well off, who do nothing but amuse yourselves!"
+
+He possibly thought that this remark demanded some reparation, for his
+next was: "I have never seen a handsomer pair!"
+
+Jörgen laughed, but coloured to the roots of his hair. Mary sat unmoved.
+
+Jörgen accompanied her to the house on the market-place; it was quite
+near. He did not say a word on the way, and took leave immediately.
+Afterwards he sent to let her know that he would be obliged to stay in
+town till the evening; then he would cycle out. Mary herself left at the
+previously appointed hour.
+
+On her way home in the steamer she revolved the idea: Jörgen Thiis and
+herself a pair. No! This she had never contemplated. He was a handsome,
+well-bred man, a courteous, pleasant companion, a really gifted
+musician. His ability, his tact, were unanimously acknowledged. Even
+that which at one time had repelled her so strongly, the sensuality,
+which would suddenly leap into his eyes and produce that insufferable
+gloating expression--perhaps it was of this underlying quality that all
+the rest were cultivated developments? Might it not account for his
+appreciation of the perfect in art, in discipline, in language? Still
+there remained something unexplained. But it was a matter of
+indifference to her what it was. She cast all these reflections aside;
+it was no concern of hers.
+
+As she came on board she had noticed a peasant-woman who had once been
+their servant; now she went and sat down beside her. The woman was
+gratified.
+
+"And how is your father, Miss? I am old now, and I have known many
+people in my day, but never a kinder man than Mr. Krog. There's no one
+like him."
+
+The affectionate warmth of these words touched Mary. The woman mentioned
+one instance after the other of her father's considerateness and
+generosity; she was still talking of it when they arrived. At first Mary
+felt as if nothing so pleasant as this had happened to her for a long
+time. Then she felt afraid. She had actually forgotten how dearly she
+herself loved her father, and had left off giving expression to her
+affection. Why? Why did she give her time and thoughts to so much else
+and not to him, the best and dearest of all?
+
+She hurried up to the house. Although her father was very much of an
+invalid now, she had latterly spent hardly any of her time with him.
+
+As she approached she saw Jörgen's bicycle propped against the steps;
+she heard him playing. But she hurried past the drawing-room, and went
+straight to her father, who was sitting in the office at his desk,
+writing. She put her arms round him and kissed him, looked into his kind
+eyes and kissed him again. His bewilderment was so comic that she could
+not help laughing.
+
+"Yes, you may well look at me, for it is certainly not often I do this.
+But all the same you are dearer to me than I can tell." And she kissed
+him again.
+
+"My dear child!" he said, and smiled at her assault. He was happy, that
+she saw. Into his eyes there gradually crept that curious brightness
+which none ever forgot. She thought to herself: I'll do this every day
+now, every day!
+
+Jörgen and she had planned a cycling excursion back into the country.
+They set off next day. The relation at whose house they stopped that
+evening, a military man, was delighted to have a visit from them.
+They were persuaded to stay for several days. The young people of
+the neighbourhood were summoned; an excursion to a sæter was
+arranged--again something quite new to Mary. "I know every country
+except my own," said she. She was determined to travel the next year
+in Norway; there not much chaperonage would be necessary. With this
+prospect in view Jörgen and she rode home, enjoying themselves royally.
+
+As they were propping their bicycles against the house, little Nanna
+came rushing out at the door and down the steps. She was crying and did
+not see them, as she was looking in the other direction. When Mary
+called: "What is the matter?" she stopped and burst out: "Oh, come,
+come! I was to go and call people." Up she rushed again to tell that
+they were coming, Jörgen after her, Mary behind him--across the hall, up
+the stairs, along the passage to the last door on the right. Within, on
+the floor, lay Anders Krog, Mrs. Dawes on her knees beside him, weeping
+loudly. He was in an apoplectic fit. Jörgen lifted him up, carried him
+to his bed, and laid him carefully down. Mary had rushed to telephone
+for the doctor.
+
+The doctor was not at home; she tried place after place to find him, a
+voice within her all the time crying despairingly: Why had she not been
+beside her father when this happened? Immediately after vowing to
+herself that she would show him every day how much she loved him, she
+had left him! And this very day she had looked forward with pleasure to
+being able to travel without him! How had she come to be like this? What
+was the matter with her?
+
+As soon as she had found the doctor, she hurried back to her father. He
+was now undressed and Jörgen had gone. But Mrs. Dawes sat on a chair
+beside the pillow, with a letter in her hand, in the deepest distress.
+The moment she saw Mary, she handed her the letter without taking her
+eyes from the sick man's face.
+
+It was from a correspondent in America of whom Mary had never heard. It
+told that her uncle Hans had lost their money and his own. His mind was
+deranged, and probably had been so for a long time. Mary knew that on
+the male side of the Krog family it was not uncommon for the old people
+to become weak-minded. But she was horrified that her father should not
+have exercised any control over affairs. This, too, was a suspicious
+sign.
+
+He must have been on his way to Mrs. Dawes with this letter when the
+seizure occurred, for the door had been opened and he lay close to it.
+
+Mary read the letter twice, then turned towards Mrs. Dawes, who sat
+crying.
+
+"Well, well, Aunt Eva--it has to be borne."
+
+"Borne? borne? What do you mean? The money loss? Who cares for that? But
+your father! That man of men--my best friend!"
+
+She watched his closed eyes, weeping all the time, and heaping the best
+of names and the highest of praise on him--in English. The words in the
+foreign language seemed to belong to an earlier time; Mary knelt by her
+father, taking them all in. They told of the days which the two old
+people had spent together. Each a lament, each an expression of
+gratitude, they recalled his friendly words, his kind looks, his gifts,
+his forbearance. They flowed abundant and warm, uttered with the
+fearlessness of a good conscience; for Mrs. Dawes had tried, as far as
+it lay in her power, to be to him what he was to her. The more precious
+the words poured forth in her father's honour over Mary's head, the
+poorer did they make her feel. For she had been so little to him. Oh,
+how she repented! oh, how she despaired!
+
+Jörgen Thiis appeared outside the door just as she was rising to her
+feet. She stooped again, picked up the letter, and was about to give it
+to him, when Mrs. Dawes, who had also seen him, asked him to help her to
+her room; she must go to bed. "God only knows if I shall ever get up
+again! If this is the end with him, it is the end with me too."
+
+Jörgen at once raised the heavy body from the chair and staggered slowly
+off, supporting it. In Mrs. Dawes's room he rang for a maid; then he
+went back to Mary. She was standing motionless, holding the letter,
+which she now handed to him.
+
+He read it carefully and turned pale; for a time he was quite overcome;
+Mary went a few steps towards him, but this he did not see.
+
+"This has been the cause of the shock," she said.
+
+"Of course," whispered Jörgen, without looking at her. Presently he left
+the room.
+
+Mary remained alone with her father. His sweet, gentle face called to
+her; she threw herself down beside him again and sobbed. For him whom
+she loved best she had done least. Perhaps only because he never drew
+attention to himself?
+
+She did not leave him until the doctor came, and with him the nurse.
+Then she went to Mrs. Dawes.
+
+Mrs. Dawes was ill and in despair. Mary tried to comfort her, but she
+interrupted passionately: "I have been too well off. I have felt too
+secure. Now misfortune is at hand."
+
+Mary started, for the thought had been in her own heart all the time.
+
+"You are losing us both, poor child! And the money too!"
+
+Mary did not like her mentioning the money. Mrs. Dawes felt this and
+said:
+
+"You don't understand me, my poor child! It is not your fault, it is
+ours. We gave in to you too much. But you behaved so badly if we did
+not."
+
+Mary looked up, startled: "I behaved badly?"
+
+"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."
+
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen Thiis. When
+Jörgen returned, he asked softly: "Shall I go too--or can I be of any
+use?"
+
+"Oh, do not leave us!" wailed Mrs. Dawes.
+
+Jörgen 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, Jörgen 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."
+
+Jörgen 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--Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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.
+
+"Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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. Jörgen'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 Jörgen Thiis! Mary promptly lowered her head again; then the joy
+of revenge took possession of her, and she mounted quickly,
+determinedly. Jörgen 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 Jörgen, 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. Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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?"
+
+She smiled. "Thank you, really well, considering everything."
+
+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
+Jörgen'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. Jörgen 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 Jörgen came out of Anders Krog's room. Mary
+had just left Mrs. Dawes's, and was opening the door of her own. Jörgen
+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."
+
+Jörgen 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, Jörgen! Jörgen!" He felt a hand on
+his arm, and sank on to a chair. She had really said "Jörgen"--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
+Jörgen Thiis sprang forward and caught her. One servant after the other
+rushed upstairs--even little Nanna came. Jörgen 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. Jörgen 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 Jörgen'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.
+
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen. 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. Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen Thiis. When
+she was doing some small service for Mrs. Dawes, the latter said: "You
+know, child, that Jörgen 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, Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen, 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 Jörgen 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, Jörgen was not repellent. The atmosphere which he brought with
+him was actually sympathetic.
+
+That her father had been incapacitated by an apoplectic shock, that
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen'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 Jörgen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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 Jörgen and some
+of her girl friends who were standing beside him. All on board moved
+towards the gangway to watch the meeting.
+
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen's portmanteau had followed
+them in; Jörgen 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
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen enter. As soon
+as the door was closed, Mary went up to her father, bent over him, and
+said: "Jörgen 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 Jörgen, 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 Jörgen, 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. Jörgen 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?"
+
+Jörgen was radiant. Mary retired, that the two might have a confidential
+talk.
+
+When Jörgen 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
+Jörgen 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 Jörgen,
+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, Jörgen 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 Jörgen as if he would put more questions
+but for his presence. Mary understood, and made a sign to Jörgen, 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 Jörgen, 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 Jörgen 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. "Jörgen
+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 Jörgen asked you to sell out?"
+
+"Jörgen 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, Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen's misery was added as a
+finishing touch, the whole became ridiculous. She laughed so heartily,
+so exhilaratingly, that even Jörgen 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 Jörgen 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 Röy, the doctor," answered Jörgen, immediately adding: "Our
+annoyance and disappointment made me forget to tell you that I met Frans
+Röy in town."
+
+Unconsciously Mary stood still; involuntarily she blushed. "Frans Röy?"
+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 Röy 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 Jörgen.
+
+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, Jörgen, that Father has two hundred thousand kroner
+invested in Uncle Klaus's business?"
+
+"He has two hundred and fifty thousand," Jörgen answered.
+
+She was much surprised--in the first place by Jörgen'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 Jörgen 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 Jörgen----? 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!" Jörgen exclaimed.
+
+"But Jörgen--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, Jörgen!" she cried, radiant with
+health and courage.
+
+"Without Uncle's consent?" asked Jörgen in a despondent tone.
+
+Mary stood still again. "He would disinherit you?"
+
+Instead of answering directly, Jörgen 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 Jörgen--now I begin to understand!"
+
+They walked on. She reflected that Jörgen'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 Jörgen!" 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."
+
+But Mary would not give in. "There are our woods."
+
+"It will be several years before there is any timber to fell."
+
+How well informed Jörgen was! How carefully he had thought the whole
+thing out!
+
+They had now reached the stretch of level road which led along the shore
+to the last headland before Krogskogen. At a farm here there was a surly
+old Lapland dog. Mary and he were good friends. He always barked a
+little as people came up; probably he did not see well; but as soon as
+he scented an acquaintance his tail began to wag.
+
+To-day he was furious.
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Mary, "is it you who are making him so angry,
+Jörgen?"
+
+Jörgen did not answer, but stooped to pick up a small stone. When the
+dog saw this, he scurried off with his tail between his legs to the
+shelter of a heap of sticks, and there continued to bark.
+
+"Don't do it!" said Mary, as she saw Jörgen taking aim.
+
+"It will be interesting to see whether or not he retreats in the exact
+direction of my aim--if he does, the stone will hit him on the back." As
+Jörgen spoke, he pretended to throw. Off rushed the dog. Then he threw,
+and the stone landed exactly where he had said. The dog howled.
+
+"You see!" said Jörgen exultingly. "There are not many who can throw
+like that, I can tell you."
+
+"Do you shoot equally well?"
+
+"Certainly. What I do, Mary--it isn't much, I know--but I do it fairly
+well."
+
+This she was obliged to admit. The dog's distant fury also confirmed the
+statement.
+
+As they were taking the short cut up to the house, Jörgen began: "Do you
+think we should say anything to Mrs. Dawes or to your father about
+this?"
+
+"About Uncle Klaus?"
+
+"Yes. It will only distress them. Can't we say that Uncle Klaus asked us
+to wait till spring?"
+
+Mary stood still. Such a line of action was not to her mind. But Jörgen
+continued:
+
+"I know Uncle Klaus better than you do. He will repent soon. He will
+certainly not give in to us; but he will make a proposal of his
+own--probably what I am asking you to say--that we should wait till
+spring."
+
+Mary had already discovered how well informed Jörgen was; so she could
+not but allow that he was probably better able to judge than she. But
+she was unaccustomed to roundabout methods.
+
+"Let me manage it," Jörgen said. "I'll spare the old people a
+disappointment."
+
+"But what am _I_ to say, then?" asked Mary.
+
+"What is perfectly true. That Uncle Klaus was delighted to hear of our
+engagement; but that as times are so bad just now, we shall be obliged
+to wait. And this is really the case."
+
+Mary agreed, the more willingly because she thought it considerate of
+Jörgen to wish to spare the old people. For this he received her best
+thanks--and her hand again. He kept hold of it until they reached the
+house, and even whilst they mounted the steps. He thought to himself:
+"This is the pledge of a kiss in the hall. But I'll take ten!"
+
+He opened the door and let Mary pass in first. Nodding brightly to him
+as she passed, she made quickly for the stairs and disappeared up them.
+He heard her go into her own room.
+
+Carefully as Jörgen chose his words in communicating the result of their
+expedition, it was a sad disappointment to the old people. It was
+inexplicable to them both, but especially to Mrs. Dawes, who thought the
+decision arrived at cruel. Mary was to spend the long winter alone here,
+and Jörgen in Stockholm. They might possibly see each other for a few
+days at Christmas, but that would be all. Curiously enough, the old
+people's disappointment reacted upon Jörgen. He sat moping like a sick
+bird, had nothing to say, hardly answered Mrs. Dawes when she spoke to
+him, and presently went off to prepare for his departure next morning.
+His leave had expired, and he was going direct to Stockholm.
+
+Mary alone was in good spirits. One would have supposed that she had no
+concern whatever in the matter. To her the day had, to all appearance,
+brought no disappointment. The triumphant mood in which she had been
+ever since she graciously proclaimed their engagement in her father's
+room, far from having abated, was more pronounced than ever. She went
+humming about the rooms and passages, and seemed to have no end of
+arrangements to make, as if it were she who was about to take an
+important and long journey. At supper she joked and teased until Jörgen
+began to have an uncomfortable suspicion that she was making fun of him.
+At last he said plainly that he could not understand her. He thought she
+ought rather to be sorry for him. She was to remain here in her own
+comfortable home, working for those whom she loved, whilst he----. Now
+he _hated_ what he was going back to, because it took him away from her!
+He repented his exchange into the diplomatic service. He loathed
+Stockholm. He knew what an inferior position a young man occupied there
+who had no good introductions, and who, in addition to this, was
+Norwegian. He was, in short, unhappy, and grumbled freely.
+
+"You who distinguished yourself in the confirmation class, Jörgen, don't
+you know that Jacob had to work seven whole years for Rachel?"
+
+"And how many have I not worked for you, Mary?"
+
+"Ah! the reason of that is that you began far too early. It's a bad
+habit you have acquired--that of beginning too early."
+
+"Was it possible to see you without...? You are unjust to yourself."
+
+"You had other aims, Jörgen, besides winning me."
+
+"So had that business-man, Jacob. And he had the advantage over me, that
+whilst working and waiting he could see Rachel as often as he liked."
+
+"Well, well--he who has waited so many years, Jörgen, can surely wait
+half a year longer."
+
+"It is easy for you to talk, you who have never waited--never for
+anything!"
+
+Mary was silent.
+
+"But that you should tease me into the bargain, Mary--I who, even when I
+am beside you, must exist on such meagre fare!"
+
+"You think you have cause of complaint, Jörgen?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"You began far too early, remember!" And Mary laughed.
+
+This put Jörgen out, but presently he repeated: "You don't understand
+what it means to wait."
+
+"So much I do understand, that it comes easier to those who live on
+meagre fare." And she laughed again.
+
+Jörgen was both offended and perplexed. A woman who really cared for him
+would hardly have behaved thus on the eve of parting from him for
+several months, and with such poor prospects as they had of being able
+to marry.
+
+They sat for a short time beside her father, and longer beside Mrs.
+Dawes. Jörgen was quiet--hardly spoke. But Mary was gay. Mrs. Dawes
+watched them in surprise. Turning to Jörgen, she said: "Poor boy, you
+must come here at Christmas!" Mary answered for him: "Aunt Eva, it is
+just at Christmas that Stockholm is pleasantest."
+
+Suddenly Mary rose and very unexpectedly said good-night, first to
+Jörgen, then to Mrs. Dawes.
+
+"I am tired after the walk, and I must be up early to-morrow to see
+Jörgen off."
+
+Jörgen felt that this sudden departure was a piece of deliberate
+mischief. She wished to escape saying good-night to him in the passage.
+He vowed to revenge himself. He was skilled in the art.
+
+Mrs. Dawes asked if there were any misunderstanding between them. He
+said there was none. She did not believe it; he had to assure her again
+solemnly that he knew of none. But he could not conceal that he was out
+of temper; he could not even bear to sit there any longer. When he left
+he found the passage, contrary to custom, dark, and had to grope his way
+to his own door. Not till he had lit his lamp and listened involuntarily
+for any sound from Mary's room, did it occur to him that the door-handle
+had been made noiseless. In the morning it had creaked--very little; but
+it certainly had creaked. Never had he been in such a well-ordered house
+as this, where the very slightest thing amiss was instantly put
+right--even on a Sunday. He could not imagine greater happiness than to
+return here when everything should be satisfactorily arranged, to rest,
+and to live as long as he chose in the manner which his ardent desire
+for the pleasures of the senses pictured.
+
+Therefore patience! He would submit to Mary's caprices now, as he had
+submitted to his uncle's before--until his time came!
+
+He was undressing, when the door opened noiselessly, and Mary entered,
+in her night-dress--dazzlingly beautiful. She closed the door behind her
+and went forward to the lamp. "You shall not wait, Jörgen," said she, as
+she extinguished the light.
+
+
+
+
+ALONE
+
+
+Next morning she slept too long. She was awakened by singing and
+playing. First as in a dream and then consciously, through a rushing
+stream of memories, she heard Jörgen Thiis. He was at the piano, singing
+in the freshness of the early morning, the windows flung open, his
+clear, jubilant tenor wafting festal tones up to her.
+
+In a moment she was up and dressing, afraid lest she might be too late
+to go down with him to the steamer. The wider awake she became with the
+rapid motion, the more impetuously did her thoughts rush towards him and
+his joyful agitation. That heartfelt, soul and sense pervading gratitude
+and praise--she would fain enjoy it in his immediate neighbourhood. She
+longed to be uplifted and borne in triumph as his life's queen! Of her
+sovereign grace she had bestowed on him life's highest prize. He was
+rewarded now for his long sufferings!--without bargaining, without
+regard for established prejudices. She knew him now; she knew exactly
+how he would look, exactly in what manner he would make her the
+partaker of his happiness. Therefore her breast heaved high in
+expectation of the meeting--expectation of his gratitude and homage.
+
+In her blue morning dress she passed through the little Dutch ante-room
+and stretched out her hand to open the door of the big drawing-room with
+the windows to the sea; but so excited was she that she had to pause to
+take breath--enjoying Jörgen's triumph the while. He was so carried away
+with his own music that she was quite close to him before he noticed
+her. He looked up, radiant--rose slowly, silently, as to a festal rite.
+This impression he would do nothing to destroy. He opened his arms, drew
+her into his embrace, kissed her hair gently, stroked the cheek that lay
+bare--slowly, protectingly. He was trying to shield, to hide, to help
+her with manly tenderness to overcome the feeling of shame from which
+she must be suffering. His whole attitude was tender and reassuring.
+
+"But we must hurry in to breakfast now," he whispered affectionately,
+kissing her beautiful hair again, and inhaling its fragrance. Then he
+passed his arm gently, yet in a controlling manner, round her waist.
+Near the door he said in a low tone: "You have slept well, since you
+come so late?" He opened the door with his disengaged hand, and,
+receiving no answer, looked sympathisingly at her. She was pale and
+confused. "My sweet one!" he whispered soothingly.
+
+At breakfast there was no end to his consideration for her, especially
+when it became evident that she could not eat. But time was short; he
+had to attend to himself; so he could not talk much. Mary did not say a
+word. But it struck her that Jörgen handled his knife and fork in a new,
+masterful manner, of a piece with that in which he now spoke to her and
+looked at her. He evidently desired to inspire her with courage--after
+what had happened last night. She could have taken her plate with what
+was on it and flung it in his face!
+
+His triumphal song had been in his own honour! He had been hymning his
+own worthiness!
+
+A decanter with wine stood on the table. Jörgen poured out a large
+glass, drank it slowly, and rose with a dignified: "Excuse me!" adding
+in the doorway: "I must look if the boy has taken my portmanteau."
+
+In a moment he was back again. "Time is almost up." He closed the door,
+and hurried across the room to Mary, who was now standing at the
+window. This time he drew her quickly into his arms and began to kiss.
+
+"No more of that, please!" she said with all her old queenliness, and
+turned away from him. She walked proudly into the hall, put on her coat
+with the assistance of the maid who hastened to help, chose a hat,
+looked out to see the state of the weather, and then took her parasol.
+The maid opened the front door. Mary passed out quickly, Jörgen
+following, mortally offended. He was unconscious of any transgression.
+
+They walked on for a time silent. But Mary was in such a state of
+suppressed rage that when she at last remembered to put up her parasol,
+she almost broke it. Jörgen saw this.
+
+"Remember," she said--and it sounded as if she had suddenly acquired a
+new voice--"I don't care about letters. And I can't write letters."
+
+"You don't wish me to write to you?" He had also a new voice.
+
+She did not answer, nor did she look at him.
+
+"But if anything should happen--?" said he.
+
+"Well, of course then--! But you forget that you have Mrs. Dawes."
+
+And as if this were not enough, she added: "I don't imagine that you,
+either, are a good letter-writer, Jörgen. So there will be nothing
+lost."
+
+He could have struck her.
+
+As ill luck would have it, the surly old Lapland dog was at the
+landing-place with his master. No sooner did he catch sight of Jörgen
+than he began to bark. All his master's attempts to silence him were in
+vain.
+
+Every one turned to look at the new-comers. Jörgen had at once picked up
+a small stone, and Mary had asked him in a low voice not to throw it.
+The steamer was now lying to; it diverted the attention of all,
+including the dog. For this moment Jörgen had been waiting; he flung the
+stone with all his might, and a loud howl arose. He immediately turned
+to Mary, swept off his hat with his best smile, and thanked her for the
+hospitality shown him.
+
+For the sake of appearances she could not but remain on the pier until
+the steamer went; she was even obliged to wave her parasol once or
+twice. Smiling and triumphant, Jörgen returned sweeping bows from the
+steamer's deck.
+
+How furious she was! But he was hardly less so.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"He, who should have thrown himself in the dust before me, and kissed
+the hem of my dress!" This was Mary's feeling.
+
+She had had a dawning suspicion last night of a want of delicacy in her
+lover. He would not let her go. She had had to resort to artifice, and
+had been obliged to lock her door. But she had explained his behaviour
+to herself as an unfortunate result of those years of longing which had
+turned his passion into a morbid possession.
+
+Now uncertainty was no longer possible! Only an "experienced hand" could
+behave like this. She had been deceived! The very best that was in her,
+fostered and guarded by her noblest instincts, had been led loathsomely
+astray.
+
+With this thought she wrestled and strove all day long. She called
+herself betrayed, dishonoured. At first she thrust the blame away from
+herself. Then she took it all upon herself, and pronounced herself
+unworthy to live. She did nothing but make mistakes; she was her own
+betrayer! One hour she said to herself: "Violence was done me, although
+I gave myself to him voluntarily!" The next she said: "All this has its
+beginning farther back, and I cannot unravel it."
+
+What a blessing that her own room remained undefiled! The one next it
+she would never enter again.
+
+With Jörgen she would have nothing more to do! But would he in these
+circumstances keep silence? She felt certain that he would. His faults
+did not lie in this direction--otherwise she, too, must have heard
+something. But that even one human being should exist who----! She wept
+with anger and impotence. It would break her spirit. It would weigh on
+her like an incubus--heaviest when she rose highest.
+
+She would meet him! She would tell him what she had taken him for, and
+what he was--to whom she thought she was going that night and whom she
+found. He should not be able to boast! But to carry out this intention
+she must know something about his life. Whom dared she ask? who knew?
+
+When she awoke next morning, her mind was clearer--clearer in the first
+place as to how she must proceed in acquiring information regarding
+Jörgen. It must be gathered as opportunity offered, so that no one's
+attention should be attracted. It was also clear to her that the breach
+with him, and the meeting which was to prepare it, must be
+postponed--chiefly for the sake of the old people. But her second and
+much more important resolve was to restore the equilibrium of her own
+life, to escape from the unhealthy atmosphere which had been her
+undoing. This could be done in only one way; she must take up her work
+again, fit herself to do it better, and gain new courage by success.
+
+Work and duty! She raised herself on her elbow, as if imitating the
+corresponding uplifting of her mind. The next moment she was out of bed,
+preparing to begin.
+
+The 50,000 kroner which her father had given to Uncle Klaus, and of
+which she had found no record in his books--did they not indicate that
+he probably had money in America over and above that which had been in
+his brother's business? that the interest which he had not spent had
+been invested there? that 50,000 kroner of capital had lately been paid
+up and sent home?
+
+Ever since Jörgen had told her about these 50,000 kroner, the thought of
+them had been haunting her. Now she must examine her father's American
+correspondence; they must be mentioned in it. But no American letters
+could she find, until she opened a small box which was shoved under a
+book-shelf, and the key of which she found in her father's purse. She
+remembered that this box had accompanied them on their travels, but she
+had never known what it contained. In it lay the American correspondence
+and accounts. It seemed as if, ever since her mother's days, he had
+kept this American part of his fortune, and everything relating to it,
+separate from the rest. And a very considerable sum he must still own
+over there, even although the principal part, the million, was lost.
+Mary became quite excited. Her father had undoubtedly understood from
+the fatal letter that everything he possessed in America was lost; and
+she and the others had received the same impression.
+
+She now went to her father's room, explained things carefully to him,
+and said that she intended to go to America at once to investigate the
+matter. He was startled, but soon recognised the necessity of the step,
+and agreed to it.
+
+Mrs. Dawes was not so confiding. She felt that there was something
+wrong, and that Mary was seeking distraction. But Mary's manner in
+telling of her discovery and intention was quite determined. Therefore
+the old lady confined herself to a gentle reminder of the gales likely
+to be encountered at this season.
+
+Three days later Mary, with an English-speaking maid, was on her way to
+America, confident, as she had assured her father, of finding some one
+among her many acquaintances capable of giving her the assistance she
+required.
+
+Everything happened as she had hoped, and in six weeks she was home
+again. It was fortunate that she had gone out when she did, for
+proceedings were on the point of being taken on the assumption that
+Anders Krog had been his brother's full partner, whereas his partnership
+was limited to the amount which he had invested in the business. This
+Mary was in a position to prove.
+
+Her business success inspired her with courage. Why not go on? She had
+capital at her disposal now with which to commence operations. She felt
+very much inclined to try. And the timber trade too! Was she not as
+capable as any one of learning it? Was book-keeping by double-entry so
+very difficult? She set to work at once.
+
+Anders Krog seemed to revive after his daughter's return. The certainty
+that the money which had not been in his brother's business was saved
+gave him the greatest satisfaction. Mary's future was his one thought.
+
+Mrs. Dawes, on the contrary, became visibly worse. It seemed as if the
+once active, indefatigable woman had no strength left to draw upon. She
+did not even ask after Jörgen; her correspondence she had quite given
+up.
+
+Mary managed the property with the assistance of the overseer, and her
+father's money with the aid of a lawyer. She took lessons and studied.
+Twice a week she went to town.
+
+The time passed thus until the beginning of November. Then Anders Krog
+received a letter from a near relation in Christiania, whose only child,
+a daughter, had just become engaged. He was particularly anxious that
+Mary should come and take part in the festivities to be held on this
+occasion. Several entertainments were to be given by both families
+concerned.
+
+Mary was surprised at the pleasure with which the prospect suddenly
+filled her. The old Adam was not dead! She hummed cheerfully as she went
+about the house making her preparations. She was longing for new
+surroundings--and for new homage! It was as reparation she desired it;
+this she was obliged to confess to herself.
+
+She had not been in Christiania many days before Anders received a
+letter proclaiming her praises in the strongest words in the language.
+It was not the engaged couple, but Mary, who attracted most attention at
+the balls; it was she who was distinguished and fêted--the young couple
+themselves being amongst her most devoted admirers! Her unique style of
+beauty, her charm of manner, her accomplishments, her tact, had made an
+indelible impression upon them all. They must be allowed to keep her a
+little longer.
+
+Anders Krog sent the letter in to Mrs. Dawes, with the request that it
+should be returned soon. He spent most of the day reading it.
+
+Next morning Mary came home. She went upstairs quietly to her father's
+room. He was shocked with her look. She was ill, she said; and this was
+plainly visible. She was not pale, but grey; her eyes were heavy with
+sleep, her voice was faint. She embraced her father long and tenderly,
+but would neither look at his letter nor tell him about her visit. She
+must go to bed and rest, she told him, as soon as she had seen Mrs.
+Dawes.
+
+She did not stay half a minute with Mrs. Dawes, whom she left terribly
+anxious.
+
+She slept all day, ate a little at supper-time, and slept again all
+night.
+
+When she got up she looked much as usual, and was active and interested
+in everything. Overseer, gardener, and housekeeper came with their
+reports, and she went her usual rounds. Then she made her father happy
+again by coming smiling into his room.
+
+She had come to tell him that there was nothing now to prevent her
+marrying at once. They would be quite well enough off. Her father
+managed with great difficulty to say that he had been thinking the same
+himself. His eyes and the one hand said more, namely, that nothing would
+please him better.
+
+But when she told Mrs. Dawes, and added that she thought of going at
+once to Stockholm to propose it (Jörgen's name was not mentioned), Mrs.
+Dawes's usual perspicacity returned; she sat up in bed and began to weep
+bitterly. Then Mary's courage failed her; she threw herself on the bed
+and whispered: "It's only too true, Aunt Eva!" She wept as she had never
+wept in her life before. But as Mrs. Dawes's agitation was increased by
+this, she was obliged to raise her head and say: "Aunt Eva, dear, Father
+will hear us!" This subdued them a little. Then Mrs. Dawes told, through
+her tears, that this was her own story over again. Not until after her
+fiancé had induced her to go the same length did she discover what a
+despicable man he was.
+
+"Then we were obliged to marry. You see now, child, what we women are;
+we never learn."
+
+"Oh, if only you and Father had not insisted on bringing this man into
+my life!" moaned Mary. "My instinct warned me to keep him at a
+distance, but you deadened it." She added at once: "No, don't take it
+like that, Aunt Eva! I am not reproaching you and Father. Besides,
+there's no use in complaining now. There is only one thing to be
+done--to shut my eyes and take the plunge."
+
+In this Mrs. Dawes entirely agreed with her. "Afterwards you will do as
+I did; when your reputation is saved, you will separate from him."
+
+"No, that I shall not do. There will be something then that will bind us
+together. Good God! good God!" she moaned, clinging to her old friend
+and smothering her cry in the bed-clothes.
+
+Mrs. Dawes sat helpless, holding her. "I don't understand this," she
+said.
+
+Mary raised her head quickly: "Do you not understand? He did it on
+purpose to bind me. He knew me."
+
+Then she threw herself across the bed again, miserable, despairing.
+Between her outbursts of weeping came the cry: "There is no way out of
+it! no way out of it!"
+
+Mrs. Dawes had neither the strength nor the courage to seek for words to
+comfort such distress.
+
+It took its free course, until the anger cooled. Mrs. Dawes could feel
+that another emotion was gradually taking the upper hand. Mary raised
+her head; in her eyes, red with weeping, was hatred.
+
+"I thought that I was giving myself to a gentleman; I discovered that it
+was to a speculator." She rose slowly.
+
+"Will you say that to him, child?"
+
+"Most certainly not! Nothing whatever to that effect. I shall merely say
+that it is necessary we should marry."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three days later a letter was brought in to Jörgen Thiis at the Foreign
+Office. It was from Mary. "I am at the Grand Hotel, and expect you to
+meet me there, outside the entrance, at two o'clock punctually."
+
+He understood at once what this implied, and hurried off, for it was now
+a quarter to two. It did not strike him until he was on his way
+downstairs that their meeting was to be "outside the entrance"!
+
+She did not wish to be alone with him in her room.
+
+This altered his intentions. He ran up to his rooms and released from
+imprisonment a little black poodle puppy, a valuable animal, which he
+was training.
+
+The middle of the road was filthy with slush and mud, and the dog was at
+once ordered to keep beside his master on the pavement, which was clean.
+After a few sprightly excursions he became obedient; he was afraid of
+Jörgen's thin cane.
+
+Mary's erect figure was distinguishable from a long distance. She stood
+with her back to them, looking in the direction of the palace. Jörgen's
+heart beat violently; his courage was failing him.
+
+Mary became aware of his approach by the dog's rushing up to her as to
+an old friend. She loved dogs; nothing but her constant change of abode
+had prevented her keeping one. And this was such a beautiful, healthy,
+well-kept animal, so entirely to her taste in every way, that she
+involuntarily bent down to take notice of him. As she did so she saw
+Jörgen. She drew herself up again at once.
+
+"Is this your dog?" she asked, as if they had parted half an hour ago.
+
+"Yes," answered he, taking off his hat respectfully.
+
+Then she bent down again and patted the dog: "What a beauty you are! a
+real beauty! No--keep down!"
+
+"Keep down!" came in a more peremptory tone from Jörgen.
+
+Mary straightened herself again. "Where shall we go?" she asked. "I have
+never been in Stockholm before."
+
+"We may as well go straight on. If we take the turning yonder we shall
+come to John Ericson's monument."
+
+"Yes, I should like to see that." They walked on.
+
+"Come here!" called Jörgen to the dog, indicating the spot with his
+stick. He was offended by Mary's not even having offered him her hand.
+The dog came dejectedly, but cheered up immediately, for Mary spoke to
+him and patted him again.
+
+"I have been over in America," she said.
+
+"Yes, I heard that."
+
+"The 50,000 kroner of which you spoke were not in my father's books,
+which made me certain that he must keep a separate account of the money
+in America. This account I found. It showed me the necessity for going
+across and saving what could be saved. The main sum was, of course,
+hopelessly lost."
+
+"What success had you?"
+
+"I brought home with me the accumulated interest of all these years."
+
+"The money had been well invested?"
+
+"Better, I believe, than it could have been in Europe."
+
+Here followed a short intermezzo. The dog had been off the pavement, and
+now received a few cuts with the cane. This made Mary indignant.
+
+"Dear me! the dog doesn't understand."
+
+"Yes, he understands perfectly; but he has not learned to obey."
+
+They walked on quickly. "What is your intention in telling me this?"
+asked Jörgen.
+
+"To show you that we can marry at once."
+
+"How much is there?"
+
+"About two hundred thousand."
+
+"Dollars?"
+
+"No, kroner. And the 50,000 besides."
+
+"It is not enough."
+
+"Along with the rest?"
+
+"The 'rest' is hardly yielding anything at present. That you know."
+
+Mary began to feel ill. He knew it by her voice when she said: "We have
+the timber to fall back upon."
+
+"Which cannot be felled for three years; possibly not for four, or even
+five? That depends entirely on its growth."
+
+Mary knew that he was right. Why had she mentioned it? "But--ten to
+twelve thousand kroner a year...?"
+
+"Is not enough in our position."
+
+Another intermezzo. There was no pavement here. They had come to a
+large, open space, thick with mud. Both had forgotten the dog. A fat,
+dirty ship-dog, also of the poodle tribe, had come on shore with some
+sailors, who were sauntering along in the same direction as Mary and
+Jörgen. With this welcome playfellow Jörgen's dog had joined company.
+Jörgen had the greatest trouble in inducing him to come back--dirty as
+he already was. As soon as Mary called too, he came boldly and joyfully.
+But a stroke with the cane awaited him, and called forth a howl.
+
+"It is strange," said Mary, "that you cannot treat a nice dog kindly!"
+She was thinking of his cruelty to their neighbour's old Lapland dog.
+
+Jörgen did not answer. But as soon as he felt sure that the dog was
+following meekly, he said: "Does Uncle Klaus know anything about this
+money?"
+
+"I do not believe that any one knows about it except ourselves. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"Because it will be our best plan to speak to Uncle Klaus."
+
+Mary stood still, astonished. "To Uncle Klaus?"
+
+Jörgen also stood still. They looked at each other now.
+
+"It will be to our interest," continued Jörgen.
+
+"With Uncle Klaus----?" Mary stared. She did not understand him.
+
+"For the sake of the family's honour he will do a great deal," said
+Jörgen, giving her a quick side-glance as he moved on.
+
+She had turned ghastly white, but she followed. "Must we confide in
+Uncle Klaus?" she whispered behind him. A lower depth of humiliation
+there could not be.
+
+"Yes, we'll do so!" he answered encouragingly, almost gaily. "Now he
+will not say 'No'!"
+
+Had this, too, entered into his calculations?
+
+He went closer to her. "If Uncle Klaus knows nothing about the American
+money, we shall get more--do you see?"
+
+How well he had thought it all out! In spite of her disgust, Mary was
+impressed. Jörgen was a cleverer man than she had taken him for. Once he
+had the opportunity to develop all his gifts, he would surprise many
+besides herself.
+
+She walked along, shrinking into herself like a leaf in too dry heat.
+
+"You will manage this with Uncle Klaus yourself?"
+
+"I shall go back with you now, as you may suppose. You need not have
+come. You had only to let me know."
+
+Her head was bent and she was trembling. His superiority robbed her of
+her strength and courage; his words sickened her. As on a previous
+occasion, one foot refused to plant itself in front of the other; she
+could follow no farther.
+
+Then she heard Jörgen call: "Come here, you little devil!" The dog
+again! His dirty scamp of a playfellow had once more tempted him from
+the path of duty.
+
+There was something peculiar about Jörgen's voice when it commanded--it
+was subdued and sharp at the same time. The dog recognised it, but only
+looked round, irresolute. Being endowed with a happy frivolity of
+disposition, he rushed again merrily up to his comrade and went on with
+the game as if nothing had been said.
+
+Mary stood learning a lesson. It was just underneath John Ericson's
+statue that this happened. She looked up at the statue, looked into John
+Ericson's kind, thoughtful eyes, until tears filled her own. She was
+utterly miserable.
+
+Jörgen was engrossed with the dog. The animal's education was conducted
+on the principle that he must never be allowed to have his own will when
+it conflicted with his master's. "Come here, you little rogue," said
+Jörgen ingratiatingly. The dog was so surprised that he stopped in the
+middle of his game. "Good dog! come along!" He made one or two joyful
+bounds in Jörgen's direction; he remembered the good times they had had
+together--perhaps such a time awaited him now. But, whatever the reason,
+doubt seized him--he turned back and was soon between his dirty friend's
+paws again, both of them sprawling in the mud.
+
+The passers-by stopped, amused by the animal's disobedience. This
+annoyed Jörgen. Mary knew it, and made an attempt to save the dog.
+Standing behind Jörgen, she said softly in French: "It is not fair first
+to coax and then to strike." Her words only made him more obstinate.
+"This is a matter you don't understand," he answered, also in French,
+and continued coaxing.
+
+With the short-sighted trustfulness common to sweet-tempered puppies,
+the dog stopped in his game and looked at Jörgen. Jörgen, with his stick
+behind his back, advanced persuasively. He was furious at the laughter
+of the onlookers, but muffled his rage in soft words. "Come on, old
+fellow, come on!"
+
+"Don't believe him!" shouted an English sailor. But it was too late.
+Jörgen had hold of one of the long ears. The dog howled; Jörgen must
+have pinched hard. Mary called in French: "Don't beat him!" Jörgen
+struck--not hard; but the terrified puppy yelled piercingly. He struck
+again--not hard this time either; it was done chiefly to annoy them all.
+The dog howled so pitifully that Mary could not bear to look in that
+direction. Gazing into John Ericson's good, kind eyes, she said: "These
+blows have separated you and me, Jörgen!"
+
+Instantaneously he let the dog go and stood up. He saw her eyes flame;
+her cheeks were white; she held herself erect and faced him--above her
+John Ericson's head.
+
+A moment later, and she had turned her back on him and was walking
+quickly away, with light, glad steps--the dog following.
+
+The onlookers laughed, the English sailors derisively; Jörgen started in
+pursuit.
+
+But when Mary saw that the dog was following her and not him, and that
+the creature's eyes sought hers to learn what she intended to do, the
+fear she had felt before turned into wild exhilaration. Such revulsions
+of feeling were not uncommon with her. She clapped her hands and ran,
+and the dog sprang along at her side, barking. The spell was broken, the
+disgrace was cast from her! Farewell to Jörgen and all his ways!
+
+"That's what we are saying, my little rescuer, eh?" The dog barked.
+
+She looked round to see Jörgen. He dared not hurry, for the sake of
+appearances.
+
+"But we two dare, don't we?" Again she clapped her hands and ran, and
+the dog ran with her, barking.
+
+Then she slackened her pace, and played with him and talked to him;
+Jörgen was so far behind. "You ought to be called 'liberator'; but that
+is too long a name for a little black puppy. You shall be called
+John--be named after him who looked at me and gave me courage." Off she
+and the dog ran again. "You follow me and not him! Well done, well done!
+That is what he whom you are called after did. He would have nothing to
+do with the slave-drivers; his friends were those who set free!"
+
+Now they were round the corner. Jörgen was not visible. When he came to
+the hotel, he was told, though he had seen Mary go in, that she was not
+at home. He said that she had his dog. The waiter professed ignorance.
+There was nothing for it but to go. He had lost both her and the dog.
+
+Up in her room Mary asked the dog: "Will you be mine? Will you go with
+me, little black John?" She clapped her hands to make him bark his
+joyful: Yes. The question of ownership was settled thus. A letter which
+came from Jörgen, probably on this subject, she burned unread.
+
+She expected him to appear at the station, at the time when the train
+for Norway left, to claim his property. She drove boldly up with her dog
+at her side, washed, combed, perfumed. Jörgen was not there.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary slept all night with the dog at her feet, on her travelling rug.
+
+But with morning came reflection. Now she was alone, alone with the
+responsibility.
+
+Hitherto she had been forcing herself into the one narrow way of
+escape--to marry Jörgen at once, bear her child abroad, and after
+that--endure as long as she could.
+
+But to marry the man she loathed, merely in order to save her good
+name--how inconceivable such a step now seemed to her! She had tried to
+take it, because she knew what those around her thought on such
+subjects, and because she occupied a peculiar position; upon festal
+garments a stain was unendurable.
+
+But now she said "For shame!" at the thought of it--said it aloud. And
+the dog instantly looking up, she added: "Yes, John, it was 'to the
+dogs' I was going when I set off on this journey!"
+
+But what was she to do now?
+
+She knew what could be done. But two besides herself would be in that
+secret--Jörgen and another. This in itself was prohibitive. She could
+never again hold up her head proudly and independently--and to be able
+to do so was a necessity to her.
+
+Well, what then?
+
+As long as her journey and what it entailed had seemed to her to be
+imperative, for honour's sake inevitable, the idea of the last, the very
+last refuge had not suggested itself seriously.
+
+Now it faced her in sad earnest!
+
+She looked mournfully into the dog's honest eyes, as if she were
+searching for a way of escape from this too. She read in them the most
+unmixed happiness and devotion. Burying her face in his curls, she wept.
+She was so young still, she did not want to die.
+
+For the first time she wept for herself, was sorry for herself. It did
+not seem to her that she had done anything to deserve this. Nor could
+she account to herself for the manner in which it had all come about.
+
+The dog understood that she was unhappy. He licked her hands, looked up
+into her face, and whined to be allowed to jump up and comfort her.
+
+She lifted him up and bent over him. Imagining that she meant to play
+with him, he began to snap at her hands. She let him have his way, and
+the two were soon engaged in a merry, babyish game, which lasted a long
+time, because John refused to be satisfied; every time she stopped, he
+began again.
+
+Then she talked to him. "Little black John, you remind me of the
+negroes. You remind me that your namesake ransomed negroes from slavery.
+You have saved me from being enslaved. But it is a sorry deliverance, I
+can tell you, if I am not to have the right to live as well as you.
+Don't you think so too?" Then she began to cry again.
+
+In Christiania she drove from one station to the other wearing a thick
+veil, the dog beside her on the seat. She saw none of her acquaintances.
+If they knew----!
+
+Oh, that condemned and executed crow, which Jörgen wanted to pick up
+and she fled from--she had no idea how well she had seen it, seen the
+torn neck, the hacked body, the empty eye-sockets! The red wounds gaped
+at her; she could not get them out of her thoughts during this terrible
+drive.
+
+It was winter now. She had not seen winter for many years. Dying,
+withered vegetation she had seen, but not winter's transforming power,
+not desolation decked in the fairest, purest white, with capricious
+variations where the landscape was wooded. The fjord was not yet
+ice-covered; steel-grey, defiant, hard, the sea came rolling up from
+every direction, like a hydra-headed monster challenging to combat.
+
+Her imagination had been excited by the drive through the town; now the
+powers of nature took possession of it. All the more intensely did she
+feel her impotence. Could _she_ accept any challenge to combat? Would
+_she_ ever know the period of transformation? For her there was no
+course open but to die.
+
+Whilst she was wrestling with these thoughts she suddenly saw her
+father's face. How could she live without telling him what was
+impending? And never, never would she be able to tell him! She could not
+even let him know that she had broken off her engagement. This alone
+would be more than he could bear.
+
+What if, instead of speaking, she were to disappear? Good God! that
+would kill him at once.
+
+During the rest of the journey she felt no more fear of others, none
+whatever for herself--it was all for him, for him alone!
+
+She arrived in such an exhausted and miserable condition that she began
+to cry when she saw the house. There can have been few sadder walks than
+hers up to it. Even the dog's joyful antics when he reached firm ground
+could not distract her. She went straight to her own room to wash and
+change her dress, requesting that her father and Mrs. Dawes should be
+told of her arrival. Little Nanna went with her, to help her. The child
+played with the dog whenever she had an unoccupied moment; this annoyed
+Mary, but she said nothing.
+
+She looked utterly worn-out, and it was only too evident that she had
+wept. But perhaps this was fortunate. Her father would understand at
+once that all was not well. If he were only able to bear it! She would
+tell him that she had had a long, fatiguing journey, and that Jörgen did
+not consider the means at their disposal sufficient for people in their
+position to marry upon. They must wait and see what Uncle Klaus would
+do.
+
+If she cried--and she was sure to cry, so tired and heart-broken was
+she--it would prepare him for what was to follow. Oh, if he were only
+able to bear it!
+
+But what else could she do? If she did not go to him at once he would
+suspect mischief, and feel alarmed, and that would be quite as bad for
+him.
+
+She trembled as she stood at his door. Not only from anxiety for
+him--no, also because she must not throw herself down beside him, tell
+him everything, and weep till she could weep no more. How dreadful it
+all was!
+
+But life is sometimes merciful!
+
+Anders had not been told of his daughter's arrival, because he was
+asleep. The nurse had waited in the passage to let Mary know this when
+she came out of her room. Why did the woman not knock at the door and
+tell her? Simply because it was not natural to her to act thus. However,
+when Mary did come out, she was no longer in the passage, but half way
+downstairs. One of the servants was carrying up the invalid's dinner.
+The nurse, distressed at being unable to do this herself as usual, had
+thought that she would at least take it from her on the stairs.
+
+Whilst she was doing this, Mary opened the door of her father's room.
+She stood still in the doorway, because the nurse, who had hastened up
+again, was whispering: "He is asleep, Miss Krog."
+
+But the dog, understanding nothing, was in the room already, already had
+his paws on the edge of the bed and his face close to the face of the
+sick man, who was awaking--who awoke, with this black apparition staring
+into his eyes. The eyes opened wide with terror, gazed round the room,
+and met Mary's. She stood in the doorway, horror-struck, pale as death.
+Her father raised his head towards her; then the eyes became fixed and a
+far-away look came into them. The head sank back.
+
+"He is dying!" cried the nurse behind Mary, setting down the tray and
+rushing forwards.
+
+Mary would not believe it at first; but when she understood that it was
+true, she threw herself upon him with a heartrending scream. It was
+answered by one from Mrs. Dawes in the next room. The servants who
+hurried there found her lying unconscious. She recovered sufficiently to
+be able to stammer some unintelligible English words. The doctor said:
+"It will soon be all over with her too." Anders Krog was dead.
+
+Mary clung to her reason as if she were grasping it with her hands. She
+must not, must not give way--must not scream, must not think. _She_ had
+not killed him! She must listen to and remember what the others said,
+must give her consent to what they were proposing, which was to send for
+her father's sister. When she witnessed that sister's grief, she felt
+that she must not give way to her own. She must not, must not! "Help me,
+help me," she cried, "that I may not go mad!" And, turning to the
+doctor, she said: "_I_ did not kill him, did I?"
+
+The doctor ordered her to bed, prescribed cold compresses, and remained
+beside her. He, too, impressed on her the necessity of self-control.
+
+Not till little Nanna brought the dog to her next morning, and the
+animal insisted on being taken into her arms, was she able to shed
+tears.
+
+During the course of the day she improved a little. Her grief was
+alleviated by the heartfelt sympathy, often expressed in the most moving
+terms, which was conveyed to her by the numberless telegrams that
+arrived in town and were telephoned from there. All this sympathy for
+herself, admiration for her father, and intense desire to comfort and
+strengthen her, helped her greatly. From the incautious manner in which
+one of these telegrams was transmitted she learned that Mrs. Dawes, too,
+was dead. They had not dared to tell her. But the great and general
+sympathy helped her to bear this also. Now she understood how it was so
+great and general. Every one but herself knew that she had lost both,
+that she was alone in the world.
+
+The message which touched her most came from Paris, and was as follows:
+"My beloved Mary,--Can it comfort you in your great sorrow to know that
+there is a resting-place here for you, and that I am at your service--to
+travel with you, to come to you, to do whatever you wish!--Yours
+unalterably, ALICE."
+
+She knew who had sent Alice intimation.
+
+Jörgen, too, telegraphed. "If I could be of the slightest service or
+comfort to you I would come at once. I am broken-hearted."
+
+The same touching, reverential sympathy was shown on the occasion of the
+funeral, which was hastened on Mary's account, and took place three days
+after the deaths. Amongst the countless wreaths, the most beautiful of
+all was Alice's. It was taken up to Mary--she wished to see it. The
+whole house was fragrant with flowers on that winter day, their sweet
+breath a message of love to those who slept there.
+
+Mary did not go downstairs; she refused to see the coffins, or the
+flowers, or any of the preparations that had been made for the
+entertainment of friends who came from a distance.
+
+More people came than the house could hold, and at the chapel there was
+a still larger gathering.
+
+The clergyman asked if he might go upstairs and see Miss Krog. Mary sent
+him her best thanks, but declined the visit.
+
+Immediately afterwards little Nanna came to ask if she would see Uncle
+Klaus. The old man had sent her a very touching telegram, in which he
+asked if he could not be of service to her in any way. And his wreath
+was so magnificent that, after hearing the servants' description of it,
+Mary had made them bring it, too, for her to look at.
+
+She now answered: Yes. And in came the tall man, in deep mourning,
+gasping as if he had difficulty in breathing. No sooner did he see Mary
+standing by the bed, a figure of ivory draped in black, than he sank on
+to the first chair he could reach, and burst into loud weeping. The
+sound resembled what is heard when the mainspring of a large clock
+breaks, and the whole machinery unreels itself. It was the weeping of a
+man who had not wept since he was a child--a sound alarmed at itself. He
+did not look up.
+
+But he had an errand, so much Mary understood. He tried twice to speak,
+but the attempt only increased the violence of the weeping fit. Then,
+motioning despairingly, he rose and left the room. He did not shut the
+door, and she heard him sobbing as he went along the passage and
+downstairs, to go straight home.
+
+Mary was deeply touched. She knew that her father had been the old man's
+best, perhaps his only friend. But she understood that it was not for
+him alone the tears had been shed; they told also of sympathy with her,
+and of remorse. Had it not been so, Uncle Klaus would have stayed beside
+the coffin.
+
+The sweet-toned chapel bell began to toll. The dog, which had been kept
+prisoner in Mary's room all day, and was very restless, rushed to the
+window towards the sea, and put his fore-paws up on the sill, to look
+out. Mary followed him.
+
+At that moment Uncle Klaus drove off. The singing of a psalm began in
+the rooms below, and the funeral procession issued from the house. The
+coffins were carried by the peasants from the neighbouring farms. When
+the first came in sight, Mary fell on her knees and wept as if her heart
+would break. She saw no more.
+
+She flung herself across the bed. The strokes of the bell seemed to cut
+into her flesh; she imagined that she felt the stripes they raised. Her
+mind became more and more confused. She was certain now that her father,
+when he caught sight of her in the doorway, had guessed the truth, and
+that this had killed him. Mrs. Dawes had followed him, as she always
+did. Her love for Anders Krog was the one great love of her life. They
+were both here now. And Mary's mother, too, was in the room, in a long
+white robe. "You are cold, child!" she said, and took her into her
+arms--for Mary had become a child again, a little innocent child. She
+fell asleep.
+
+When she awoke and heard no sound, outside the house or in, she folded
+her hands and said, half aloud: "This was best for us, for all three. We
+have been mercifully dealt with."
+
+She looked round for the dog; she craved for sympathy. But some one must
+have taken him away whilst she was asleep.
+
+No more was needed to make the tears flow again. Welling forth from the
+inexhaustible fountain of grief within, they poured down her cheeks and
+over the hands with which she was supporting her heavy head.
+
+"Now I can begin to think of myself again. I am alone now."
+
+
+
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+
+When Mary was visiting the graves next day, her grief was distracted by
+the following little occurrence.
+
+It was Saturday, and the eve of one of the few Sundays in the year when
+service was held in the chapel. On such occasions it was customary to
+decorate the graves. As the farm to the right of Krogskogen had once
+formed part of that estate, its owners had their burial-place here. The
+peasant's wife had come with flowers to deck a new grave, and the old
+Lapland dog was with her. Mary's little poodle at once rushed at him
+fearlessly, and to the woman's and Mary's surprise the old dog, after
+cautious and minute inspection, made friends with the giddy youngster.
+Though he as a rule could not bear puppies, he quite fell in love with
+this one. He allowed his ears to be pulled and his legs to be bitten; he
+even laid himself down and pretended to be vanquished. This delighted
+Mary so much that she accompanied the woman part of the way home, to
+watch the game. And she was more than repaid for so doing. She heard
+warm praise of her father, and some of the anecdotes of him that were
+circulating in the neighbourhood at this time, and were ensuring him an
+honoured memory.
+
+She thought as she walked home with her excited dog: "Am I beginning to
+resemble Mother? Has there always been in me something of her which
+until now has not had room to develop; something of her simple nature?"
+
+This day brought two surprises.
+
+The first was a letter from Uncle Klaus. He addressed her as: "My
+honoured and dear god-daughter, Miss Mary Krog." She had had no idea
+that she was his god-daughter; her father had never told her, probably
+did not know it himself.
+
+Uncle Klaus wrote: "There are feelings which are too strong for words,
+especially for written words. I am no letter-writer; but I take the
+liberty of intimating to you in this manner, since I was unable to do it
+by word of mouth, that on the day when your father, my best friend, and
+Mrs. Dawes, your revered foster-mother, died, and you were left alone, I
+made you, my dear god-daughter, my heiress.
+
+"My fortune is not nearly so large as is generally supposed; I have had
+great losses of late. But there is still enough for us both--that is to
+say, if your share is under your own management _and not Jörgen's_. I
+write on the supposition that you will now marry.
+
+"Mrs. Dawes's will has been in my hands for many years, and I have had
+charge of her money. I opened the will yesterday. She has left
+everything to you. This means about 60,000 kroner. But the same holds
+good of this money as of your father's; it is for the moment yielding
+almost no interest.
+
+    "Your godfather,
+        "KLAUS KROG."
+
+Mary answered at once:
+
+"MY DEAR GODFATHER,--Your letter has touched me deeply. I thank you with
+all my heart.
+
+"But I dare not accept your generous gift.
+
+"Jörgen is your adopted son, and on no account will I stand in his way.
+
+"You must not be angry with me for this. I cannot possibly act
+differently.
+
+"In the matter of Mrs. Dawes's will, I shall come to a decision ere
+long, and shall then write to you again.
+
+    "Your grateful
+        "MARY KROG."
+
+Whilst she was despatching this letter she heard a carriage drive up,
+and presently a card was brought in to her, on which she read: "Dr.
+Margrete Röy."
+
+It was a little time before Miss Röy came in. She had been taking off
+her wraps. It was a cold day. The delay increased Mary's excitement,
+with the result that she trembled and turned pale as the tall, strong
+woman with the kind eyes entered the room. She saw the impression made
+by this on the kind eyes, which now poured forth all their compassion
+upon her. As if they had known each other for many years, Mary went up
+to her visitor, laid her head on her shoulder, and wept. Margrete Röy
+pressed the unhappy girl affectionately to her breast.
+
+After they had seated themselves, she told her errand, which was to
+inquire when Mary intended to go abroad. Mary asked in surprise: "Have I
+spoken to any one about that?"
+
+Miss Röy said that she had heard it from the nurse.
+
+"Oh!" said Mary, "I have no idea what I said in the state I was in at
+that time. I have certainly given the matter no thought since."
+
+"Then you are not going abroad?"
+
+Mary sat silent for a moment. "All I can say is that I don't know. I
+have not yet made any plans."
+
+Margrete Röy was embarrassed. Mary saw this, or rather felt it. "You
+also have perhaps had thoughts of travelling!" she said.
+
+"Yes, and I wanted to know if I could be of any use to you. I should be
+happy to arrange my journey so that we could travel together."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"I am going abroad to study--Paris first. The nurse told me it was there
+you meant to go," said Margrete, beginning to feel very awkward. Her
+wish had been to help Mary, but it seemed to her now that she was
+intruding.
+
+"I appreciate your kindness," said Mary. "It is possible that I
+mentioned Paris. I don't remember. The truth is that I have come to no
+decision."
+
+"Please forgive me, then. The whole has been a misunderstanding," said
+Miss Röy, rising.
+
+Mary felt that she must not let her go, but her strength seemed to fail
+her. It was not until Margrete had reached the door that she managed to
+say: "I am coming to speak to you one day soon, Miss Röy." She said it
+in a low voice, without looking up. "I am not well enough to do it
+to-day," she added.
+
+"I can see that. It is only what I expected; so I brought something with
+me for you--if you will only take it. It is the most invigorating tonic
+I know."
+
+Mary felt all her sympathies go out to this woman. She thanked her
+heartily, adding: "Then, as soon as I am a little stronger, I may come?"
+
+"You will be very welcome."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mary, blushing, "you would not mind coming to me?"
+
+"To your house in the market-place?" asked Miss Röy.
+
+"Yes, to our house in the market-place. Though I ought no longer to say
+'our' house!" The tears came again.
+
+"You have only to let me know, and I shall come at once."
+
+A week later Mary went to town--in the wildest November storm, the worst
+they had had in these parts. The fjords were not yet frozen over, so the
+steamer managed to reach town, but had to remain there.
+
+Margrete Röy was much astonished at being summoned on such a day. It was
+to a warm, comfortable house she came, not the deserted one with the
+drawn down blinds which she was accustomed to see. She was conducted up
+an old-fashioned broad stair; the whole interior was in the style of the
+old town-houses of the beginning of last century.
+
+Mary was in the farthest away of the suite of sitting-rooms, a red
+boudoir, unchanged since her mother's day. She was sitting on a sofa,
+beneath a large portrait of her mother. When she stood up in her black
+dress, pale and heavy-eyed under her crown of red hair, it struck
+Margrete Röy that she was the very image of sorrow, the most beautiful
+one that could be imagined. A solemn tranquillity surrounded her. She
+spoke as low as the storm outside permitted.
+
+"I feel that you respect another's grief. I am also certain that you
+betray no secrets."
+
+"I do not."
+
+A little time passed before Mary said: "Who is Jörgen Thiis?"
+
+"Who is he----?"
+
+"I have several reasons for believing that you can tell me."
+
+"You must first allow me to put a question. Are you not engaged to
+Jörgen Thiis?"
+
+"No."
+
+"People say that you are."
+
+Mary remained silent.
+
+"You have perhaps been engaged to him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But," said Margrete quickly and joyously, "you have broken off the
+engagement?"
+
+Mary nodded.
+
+"Many will rejoice to hear it; for Jörgen Thiis is not worthy of you."
+
+Mary showed no signs of surprise.
+
+"You know something?" she asked.
+
+"Doctors, Miss Krog, know more than they may tell."
+
+"Yet I do believe that he loved me," said Mary, to excuse herself.
+
+"We all saw that," replied Margrete. "He undoubtedly loved you better
+than he had ever loved before. Nor was it surprising," she added. "But
+when I lived in Christiania I knew a sweet young girl who at that time
+was the one love of his life! She allowed herself to be deeply moved by
+this, and as they could not marry, she gave herself to him."
+
+"What did she do?" asked Mary, startled. Had she understood aright? The
+storm was howling so loudly outside that it was difficult to hear.
+
+Margrete repeated distinctly and impressively: "She was a warm-hearted
+girl, who believed that she was doing right, as she was his one and only
+love."
+
+"They could not marry?"
+
+"It was not possible. So she gave herself to him without marriage."
+
+Mary started up, but did not move forward. She was going to say
+something, but stopped.
+
+"Do not be so startled, Miss Krog. It is nothing very uncommon."
+
+This information lowered Mary considerably in her own estimation. She
+slowly seated herself again.
+
+"You cannot have had any experience of this sort of thing, Miss Krog?"
+
+Mary shook her head.
+
+"In which case it surprises me that you were able to escape from Jörgen
+Thiis in time; _he_ has had plenty."
+
+Mary made no reply.
+
+"We expected, especially after your father and Mrs. Dawes both became
+invalids, that you would have been married before autumn."
+
+"We intended to be, but it proved impossible."
+
+Margrete could not fathom what lay beneath this enigmatic answer; but
+she said, with a searching glance: "This, doubtless, added very
+considerably to his ardour?"
+
+Mary trembled inwardly, but controlled herself.
+
+"You seem to know him?" she said.
+
+Margrete reflected for a moment, then answered: "Yes. I am older than
+you, older than Jörgen, too. But in Christiania I also, to my shame be
+it spoken, was infatuated with him. This he discovered--and tried to
+take advantage of." She laughed.
+
+Mary turned pale, rose, and walked to the window. The wind was lashing
+the rain against the panes with ever-increasing force. She remained for
+a few moments gazing out into the storm, then came and stood in front of
+Margrete, agitated, restless.
+
+"Will you promise me never to tell any one what we have spoken about
+to-day--under any circumstances whatever?"
+
+Margrete looked at her in surprise. "You wish me to tell no one that you
+have asked me about Jörgen Thiis?"
+
+"It is my express desire that no one should know it."
+
+"Do you mean any one in particular?"
+
+Mary looked at her. "Any one in particular?" She did not understand.
+
+Margrete rose. "A man came to this town on purpose to tell you that
+Jörgen Thiis was not worthy of you. He came too late; but I think he
+deserves to know that you have discovered for yourself what Jörgen Thiis
+is."
+
+Mary answered, eagerly: "Tell _him_. By all means tell _him_!... So
+that was why he came," she added slowly. "I am glad that you have told
+me. Because my other reason for wishing to see you was--" she hesitated
+a little, "the other thing I wanted to ask you was--to give my kind
+remembrances to your brother."
+
+"That I shall do, gladly. Thank you for the message. You know what you
+are to my brother."
+
+Mary looked away. She struggled with herself a moment, then said: "I am
+one of the unhappy people who cannot understand their own lives--cannot
+understand what has happened. I can find no clue to it. But something
+tells me that your brother has had his share in it."
+
+She evidently wished to say more, but could not. Instead, she returned
+to the window and remained standing there again. The storm without
+called into the room with its thousand-voiced wrath. It was calling her.
+
+"What a terrible storm!" said Margrete, raising her voice.
+
+"I am rejoicing at the thought of going out into it," said Mary, turning
+round with sparkling eyes.
+
+"You are never going out in this weather!" exclaimed Margrete.
+
+"I mean to walk home," answered Mary.
+
+"To _walk_?"
+
+Mary came forward and placed herself in front of Margrete, as if she
+were about to say something wild and dreadful. She stopped short, but
+what she had not said rushed into her eyes, into her whole face, to her
+heart. She flung up her arms and with a loud groan threw herself back on
+her mother's sofa, and covered her face with her hands.
+
+Margrete knelt down beside her. Mary allowed her friend to put her arms
+round her and draw her to her like a tired, suffering child. And she
+began to cry, as a child cries, touchingly and helplessly; her head sank
+on to Margrete's shoulder.
+
+But only for a moment; then she sat up with a sudden start. For Margrete
+had whispered into her ear: "There is something the matter with you.
+Speak to me."
+
+Not a word came in answer. Margrete dared not say more. She rose; she
+felt that it was time to go.
+
+Nor did Mary do anything to retain her. She too had risen to her feet.
+They bade each other good-bye.
+
+But Margrete could not help saying, as she left the room: "Do you really
+mean to walk----?"
+
+Mary gave a nod which implied: "Enough has been said! That is my
+affair!"
+
+Margrete closed the door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The lamps were lit in the streets when Mary left the house. It was with
+difficulty she could keep her feet in the gusts that blew from the
+south-west, strengthened by compression between the houses. She had on a
+waterproof cloak and hood, firmly secured, and long waterproof boots.
+She walked as fast as she could. One thought alone remained to her after
+the conversation with Margrete Röy. But it united with the wind and the
+rain in driving her, lashing her on--the thought of Margrete's horrified
+eyes and pale face when she said: "There is something the matter with
+you; speak to me!" Good God! Margrete understood. They would all look at
+her like this when they heard. Thus terribly had she disappointed and
+wounded those who had believed in her. She felt as if she had them all
+behind her, as if it were from them she was fleeing--the flock of crows!
+She flew on, and had reached the outskirts of the town before she knew
+where she was. Here, beyond the last lamp, it was pitch dark; she had to
+wait a little before she could see her way. But what a pace she set off
+at then! The gale was coming half from behind, half from the side.
+
+The judgment passed upon her was driving her out into the wide
+world--no, much farther than that! It seemed to her that at the moment
+when she first understood her position a packet had been given her,
+which she had not opened until now. She had felt all the time what was
+in it, but it was only yesterday she had opened it. It contained a large
+black veil, large enough for her to conceal herself and her shame
+in--the veil of death. But even this was given upon a certain
+condition--a condition she had known about since she was a child. For as
+a child she had heard the story of a grand-aunt of her own, who, in the
+hope of concealing that she had become pregnant during her husband's
+absence, walked barefooted upon an ice-cold floor, secretly, night after
+night, in order that she might die a natural death. It would never be
+known that she had brought it about herself, so there would be no
+occasion to ask why she had done it.
+
+But some one had heard her pacing thus night after night, and the
+question was asked after all.
+
+Things should be managed better this time! The weakness to which Mary
+had so unexpectedly given way in Margrete's presence was quite gone. Now
+she had the strength to carry out her purpose.
+
+As if it were to be put to the test at once, something shadowy appeared
+at her side. It rose unexpectedly out of the darkness, so alarmingly
+near that she set off running. To her horror she seemed to hear through
+the roar of the storm that she was being pursued! Then she took courage
+and stood still. Whatever was following her stopped too. Mary moved on;
+it also moved on. "This will never do," thought she. "If I am not brave
+enough to face this, I am not brave enough to face what comes next." She
+thereupon turned and went straight up to the pursuing monster, which
+whinnied good-naturedly. It was a young horse, seeking in its
+desolateness the neighbourhood of a human being. She patted it and spoke
+to it. It was a messenger from life--the desolate was comforting the
+despairing. But, as the animal continued to follow her, she took it in
+to the next farm. She must be alone. The people at the farm were much
+astonished. They could not understand any one being out in such weather,
+least of all a woman! Mary hurried away from the light and out into the
+darkness again.
+
+The little occurrence had strengthened her. She knew now that she had
+courage, and walked on quickly.
+
+She was nearing the first headland round the face of which the road was
+cut. It either really was the case, or it seemed to her, that the
+hurricane was increasing. It must surely soon have reached its worst. To
+her it represented her own misery and shame. This thought strengthened
+her. It was not death she feared, but life.
+
+She thought it all out again as she pressed on. She would not save
+herself by allowing her child to be killed, nor would she send it away
+to strangers and thus disown it; she could not live without
+self-respect.
+
+If a suitor were to come--and doubtless as many would come now as in
+days past--should she begin by confessing? Or should she maintain a
+dishonourable silence? There was only one thing she could do with
+honour--die with her child. She felt incapable of anything else. But no
+one must have any suspicions. She must die of an illness; therefore an
+illness must be ensured that would end in death.
+
+This much she owed to herself; for she was as certain to-day as on the
+evening when she went into Jörgen's room that her action was not one for
+which she deserved to be disgraced.
+
+It had been a terrible mistake, that was certain; but the fault did not
+lie with her. There had no doubt been a considerable admixture of
+natural instinct in the feeling that prompted it; but even granting
+this, it was an action of which she was not ashamed. She owed it to
+herself to die with the undiminished sympathy of all who knew her; she
+also owed it to the companions who had recognised her as their leader.
+She had not disloyally forfeited their faith in her.
+
+She was reaching the most exposed part of a headland now, and the
+struggle which began there unconsciously became to her a struggle to
+settle this question. It was as if all the powers of nature were trying
+to wrest her self-respect from her and procure her condemnation. The sea
+was open here, and from miles out the waves came rolling in, gathering
+force as they came. When they struck the cliff they leaped yards into
+the air. The largest of them lashed her with their highest jets. "Take
+that! Take that!" And the gale put forth all its strength in its
+endeavour to force her away from the hewn cliff. It seemed, moreover, to
+be trying, though her skirts were well protected by her cloak, to twist
+and tear them off her. "Stand naked in your shame, in your shame!"
+
+But the raging waves did not frighten her into feeling herself guilty,
+nor did the gale succeed in blowing her against the parapet, and over
+it into the sea. She had to walk bent; she had even to stand still when
+the worst gusts came; but as soon as they were over she set off again,
+and held steadily on her way. "I will not part with my wreath of honour;
+I will die with it. Therefore _you_ shall not have me!"
+
+She rounded the point, and turned inland towards the low ground between
+it and the next headland. There had once been a landslip here; the piece
+of the cliff which had fallen lay as heaps of stones below, and through
+these the road now passed. Amongst the crumbling blocks by the wayside
+stood a slender birch, quite alone. Mary remembered it as she came up to
+it. Had it weathered such a storm uninjured? Yes, it was safe and sound.
+She paused beside it to recover her breath. It bent so low that every
+moment she thought: Now it must break! But up it came again as fresh as
+ever. She herself could not stand still, with such hurricane force was
+the gale blowing here; but the young birch, which was so tall and had
+such a spreading top and such a slender, swaying stem--it stood, quite
+alone.
+
+She was thinking about this as she descended towards the level ground,
+when the gale suddenly lashed the rain into her face; each jet was a
+sharp arrow. "Ah, no!" she thought; "_this_ would be what I should feel
+if I tried to face the storm which awaits me."
+
+The lights from the little farmhouses, the only thing that she saw,
+proclaimed peace. But she knew that it was not for her.
+
+She sped swiftly along the shore, but she was becoming tired now. One
+sign of this was that imagination began to take the upper hand; the
+reality disappeared in the semblance--in old mythical conceptions. As
+she toiled up and outwards to the next point, the sea was no longer sea,
+but hundreds upon hundreds of gaping sea monsters, roaring with desire.
+And raging aerial monsters with tremendous wings had promised those
+below to fling her out to them. With all the strength remaining to her
+she kept close to the rocky wall; but beneath it here there was a ditch,
+into which she fell and was wet through. More enemies still are abroad
+to-night, she thought, as she crawled out. Fortunately this headland was
+a narrow one; she soon reached the next stretch of level ground. Now
+there was only one more point to round. It was not to save her life that
+she was so unwilling to be blown into the sea, but to save her honour!
+If she were found in the sea, or disappeared altogether, they would say
+that she had sought death--and would try to discover her reason for
+doing so.
+
+But now she heard through the darkness the bark of the old Lapland dog.
+It sounded quite near. She had been walking faster than she thought; she
+was close to his home. There were its lights!
+
+The mere thought of meeting a living creature that cared for her moved
+her. She loved life, and she no longer believed that she was so unfit to
+live. This familiar voice calling to her through the darkness affected
+her as the sight of people on shore affects those clinging to a wreck.
+
+As she passed the farm, the dog left his sentinel's post and came to be
+spoken to, wagging his tail and giving friendly little barks. Mary gave
+his wet coat three farewell pats and hastened on. She soon heard him
+bark again, but it was another, angrier bark. She involuntarily thought
+of Jörgen--and continued to think of him all this last part of the road,
+which, but for him, would have been sacred to her father. How many
+hundred times, beginning as a little child, she had walked and cycled
+with her father here! Now this place too had been spoiled by Jörgen.
+Never could she walk here again without _him_. Not a step further in
+her life could she take without him!
+
+Involuntarily she looked heavenwards--to see nothing but clouds and
+thick darkness. She reached the last headland utterly exhausted, and
+rounded it without thinking at all, without any feeling that it was the
+last time, but also without fear.
+
+Of what was before her now Mary was as certain as of the road beneath
+her feet, which was leading her through the Krogskogen fields to the
+landing-stage. It was so dark that her eyes, though by this time
+accustomed to the darkness, did not distinguish the white walls of the
+chapel until she was close to the landing-place. Her thoughts rushed to
+the graves in the churchyard, but deserted them again instantly in order
+to concentrate themselves on what she was about. She stepped on to the
+quay without hesitation and walked quickly along it. The gale did not
+threaten here, the rain no longer lashed her face; both had become
+subdued and friendly powers from the time she had set foot on Krogskogen
+soil, with its protecting ridge and islands. In other circumstances she
+would have felt relief and possibly peace in return to the shelter of
+her home--now every thought was blunted. Quite mechanically she hurried
+on. Mechanically she unfastened some of the buttons of her cloak to get
+at the key, mechanically inserted it in the key-hole and opened the door
+of the bathing-house. Not until she was standing inside in the
+pitch-darkness did her senses awake and feel alarm. When the remnant of
+south-west wind which was blowing here slammed the door, she shuddered.
+She felt as if she were not alone.
+
+And now she must undress and go down the steps to become
+ice-cold--ice-cold! Then dress again and go home to fever, and to its
+consequences.
+
+If the fever did not do what she expected of it, she had what would
+help. She had found it amongst Mrs. Dawes's stores. The blame would be
+laid on the fever.
+
+But now that the moment had come for her to begin and undress, she
+shrank and shivered. It was the water, the ice-cold water she was
+shrinking from. There would likely be ice at the edge here, and she
+would have to walk over it with her bare feet. No, she would keep on her
+stockings; she could dry them afterwards, and no one would have any
+suspicion. But the ice-cold water ... what if she took cramp in it? No,
+she would keep herself in motion, she would swim. But what if she cut
+herself on the ice in coming out? She must keep on her underclothing
+too. But would it be dry by to-morrow morning? Yes, if she hung it near
+the stove. She would lock her door, and have everything in order before
+the maid came. If only she were in her right mind in the morning! She
+had never been ill; she had no idea what would happen.
+
+Before falling into this long train of reflections, she had unbuttoned
+her waterproof. Now, instead of taking off the hood, as was natural, she
+began, without conscious intention, to unfasten her dress at the neck,
+where the locket with her mother's portrait hung. Her hands shook as she
+did it, and her body also began to tremble. She had not thought of the
+locket for many years, nor was she thinking of it now; the trembling had
+no connection with it. But the locket became, as it were, involved in
+the trembling. She must take it off. If only she did not forget it! She
+would make sure by putting it into her pocket at once.
+
+Oh, horror of horrors! what did she hear? Firm steps on the landing
+stage, coming nearer and nearer. The trembling stopped; instinctively
+Mary fastened, first the collar of her dress, then her cloak--quickly,
+quickly. Who could have any errand here? It could not be to the
+bathing-house at any rate.
+
+But it was straight there the steps came. The handle was seized, the
+door flew open, and the doorway was filled by a huge figure in a
+waterproof cloak. The hooded head was considerably higher than the door.
+An electric lamp threw light straight into Mary's face. She gave a wild
+scream as she recognised Frans Röy.
+
+Such a feeling of faintness came over her that she was on the point of
+falling; but she was seized and carried out. It all happened in an
+instant. She heard the door banged; she was lifted and carried off. She
+could not say a word, nor did Frans say anything.
+
+But before they had left the landing-stage she had come to herself
+again. Of this Frans was conscious; and presently he heard her say:
+"This is violence!" No answer. After a determined struggle to free
+herself, she repeated in a clearer, stronger voice: "This is violence!"
+No answer. But his free arm was put gently round her. She asked
+excitedly: "How do you come here?" Now he answered. "My sister told me."
+His voice embraced her as gently as his arm. But she struggled against
+both. "If your sister has any affection for me at all, or if you have,
+leave me alone!" He walked on. "Let me go, I say! This is shameful!" She
+struggled so vigorously that he was obliged to change his hold; but
+where she was she had to remain. With tears in her voice she said: "I
+allow no one to decide for me." Then he answered: "You may struggle your
+hardest, but I will carry you home. And if you do not obey me, I shall
+have you placed under restraint."
+
+The words acted like a fetter of iron. She became motionless.
+
+"You will place me under restraint?"
+
+"I shall, for you have lost control over yourself."
+
+Never since she could hear at all had she heard anything so silly as
+this. But she would not discuss the matter with him. She merely said:
+"And do you imagine this will be of any use?"
+
+"I think so. When you see that we are doing everything in our power for
+you, you will give in to us, because you are good."
+
+After a short silence she said: "I cannot accept help from any one who
+has not entire respect for me--" and she began to cry.
+
+Then Frans Röy stood still and peered under her hood. "You don't imagine
+that _I_ have not entire respect for you? Do you suppose that I would be
+carrying you now if I had not? To me you are all that is noblest and
+most beautiful. That is why I am carrying you. You may have done Heaven
+knows what wrong deed--_I_ know that if you did it, it was from the
+noblest of motives. You can't act otherwise! If you have been deceived,
+if you have made a terrible mistake--why, I love you all the
+better!--for then you are unhappy--that I know. And perhaps now it may
+be possible for me, too, to help you. No greater happiness could befall
+me. I will leave you, if you insist upon it. I will marry you, if you
+can trust yourself to me. I will kill the fellow, if _that_ is your
+wish. I will do anything whatever for you, if you will only be
+happy--for that is my chief desire."
+
+He stopped short, but began again.
+
+"When I set off after you this evening, I was in greater misery than I
+had ever imagined possible. She is going to throw herself into the sea,
+I thought. Of course I shall go after her. In this storm it means death
+to us both; but there is no help for that. Nor was that what distressed
+me. No, it was your unhappiness, your despair--the idea that you could
+believe yourself unworthy to live--you who could not act unworthily to
+gain life's highest prize! Never, never have I known a human being for
+whom I could answer as confidently. And I could not tell you this; I
+could not help you. I knew you; I dared not come near you. But I have
+been able to save you after all. For you cannot possibly wish to die
+now, after you have heard me?"
+
+He had heard her sob; her arms were round his neck now, almost stifling
+his words. He let her slip slowly down. But she still held fast with the
+arm which was round his neck; and when she reached the ground she flung
+the other round it too, and laid her head upon his breast, sobbing--but
+with happiness now. He could feel the quick beat of her heart; it was
+the speed of joy.
+
+The housekeeper in town had telephoned to Krogskogen that Miss Krog was
+walking home, in a worse storm than any one remembered, and had inquired
+again and again if she had arrived.
+
+Nanna and the dog had been out on the steps several times, but the dog
+had never barked. Now he not only barked, but scampered off down the
+road.
+
+The servants had been in the greatest anxiety. It did not seem to them
+at all remarkable that Mary's unhappiness and distress should have
+driven her out into the storm. Some such action as this hazarding of a
+life which she no longer valued had been an imperative necessity to her.
+Therefore now, when little Nanna rushed in calling: "Here she comes!
+here she comes!" they wept for joy. They had long had the rooms warm and
+hot food in readiness. Now they laid another cover, for Nanna had rushed
+in again to tell them that Miss Krog was not alone; she had heard a man
+speaking. The maids at once said to each other that Jörgen Thiis had
+come at last. "No," said Nanna; "it was not his voice; it was a strong
+man's!"
+
+But the dog's joy at seeing Mary again was boundless. He barked, he
+yelped, he jumped right up to her face; there was no end to his
+demonstrations. When Frans Röy spoke to him, he went up to him at once,
+as to an old friend, but immediately returned to Mary. The little shaggy
+creature's ardent delight represented to her the joy of her home at
+seeing her again, saved. His was the greeting of both the dead and the
+living. This was what Mary felt. And she also felt that his happiness
+possibly preluded a re-awakening of her own, when she had succeeded in
+shaking off the impression of the horrors she had undergone.
+
+When she entered the house, heralded by the dog, who was as wild with
+joy as ever, the three maids were all in the hall to welcome her, Nanna
+with them. They stopped short in their exclamations when they saw the
+enormous figure looming behind her; for in his waterproof cloak and hood
+Franz Röy seemed supernaturally tall. But it was only for a moment; then
+they broke out: "Oh, Miss, to think that you should have been out in
+such a storm! We have been terribly anxious. The housekeeper in town let
+us know. But we had no one to send to meet you, for there is a fire in
+the neighbourhood and all the men have gone off there. Thank God that we
+have you again, safe!"
+
+Mary concealed her emotion by hastening upstairs. Her room was warm, her
+lamp was lighted.
+
+"Is all this affection and care new? Or is it just that I have never
+noticed it before?"
+
+The dog whined outside until she was obliged to let him in. He was so
+obtrusive in his gratitude that it was with difficulty she managed to
+change her clothes.
+
+When she was doing her hair she remembered the locket with her mother's
+portrait. She took it from her pocket, and before fastening it on her
+neck again, looked at the portrait--for the first time for many
+years--and caressed and kissed it. Presently she lit a candle, and with
+it in her hand crossed the passage to her father's room. There she set
+it down, and going forward to his bed, bent over it and kissed the
+pillow. On coming out, she stopped at the door of the visitors' room.
+"In this room he shall sleep; then it can be opened again to-morrow; its
+hateful associations will be gone." A maid to whom she gave orders to
+light a fire told her that this had already been done, and taking Mary's
+candle, went in to light the lamp. Mary stood looking after her. "Have
+they really been like this all the time?"
+
+The maid remained in the room, arranging it. Mary moved on towards the
+stairs. There she once more stopped. The dog, who had run down, came
+rushing up; he was determined not to lose her again. She stroked him
+gratefully; it was like a first little instalment of that gratitude with
+which her heart was full to overflowing.
+
+"To-morrow--this evening I am too tired--to-morrow I will tell Frans Röy
+everything! Every single thing that has happened! Perhaps this will help
+me to understand it all myself."
+
+With this brave resolve she walked downstairs, but stopped once more
+before she reached the foot. "Strange it is--most strange--but I feel as
+if I could tell the whole world!"
+
+The dog was standing at the door of the Dutch room. He smelt Frans Röy
+there.
+
+Mary followed him and opened the door. As she entered Frans exclaimed,
+as if he had had difficulty in keeping silence so long: "What a
+beautiful home!" Noticing the dog's continued attentions, he added: "And
+how much you are thought of in it!" His face lighted up.
+
+"You are in uniform!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Yes. I was at a wedding when I was sent for." He laughed.
+
+The uniform had suggested a thought to Mary. With the dog tugging at her
+dress, she said, looking brightly up into Frans Röy's face: "It will not
+be the first time that a general of engineers has lived at Krogskogen."
+
+
+    Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED
+    Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation and spelling has been
+retained as it appears in the original publication. Changes have been
+made as follows:
+
+    Page  60 I dont like the _changed to_
+             I don' like the
+
+    Page  62 from that morning's newpapers _changed to_
+             from that morning's newspapers
+
+    Page 112 they had not sat long in the empty, stift _changed to_
+             they had not sat long in the empty, stiff
+
+    Page 165 any misunderstanding beween them _changed to_
+             any misunderstanding between them
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary, by Bjornstjerne Bjornson
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