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diff --git a/33300-8.txt b/33300-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8783d9c --- /dev/null +++ b/33300-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6070 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY *** + +***** This file should be named 33300-8.txt or 33300-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/3/0/33300/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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