Part 25 (1/2)

There had been a number of wrecks during the recent gales, and Amanda could not keep her thoughts from Carljohan and his s.h.i.+p. The voice of the parson, and the singing rang in her ears like the rush of waters; she sat staring blankly at her hymn-book, open at No. 106, though there had been three since that.

Once or twice she woke, to hear her father's voice trailing behind the rest in a hymn, sounding all through the church, till people turned to look. Amanda flushed with embarra.s.sment, but Bramsen went on all unconscious, plodding through each verse in his own time, regardless of the rest.

But always she fell back upon her own thoughts, of the s.h.i.+p and Carljohan; it was a wonder to her how Mother Christiansen, whose husband was also on board, could sit there so calmly, as if there was nothing to fear. And she with all those children to think of!

The sermon now--but Carljohan was out on the North Sea and terrible weather. Great seas breaking over the bows, till the fo'c'stle was almost hidden.

And up in the rigging was Carljohan shortening sail--oh, how the vessel pitched and rolled, till the yards almost touched the water.

If he should lose his hold--if he should be swept away--Amanda gasped at the thought, and clutched her father's hand.

”What is it, Amanda? Are you ill?” whispered Bramsen anxiously.

”No, no; only keep still. I'll be all right directly.”

The organ pealed and the sound of the hymn filled the church.

Amanda could not sing a note; she was certain now that something had happened to Carljohan. Her tears flowed in streams, and she was hard put to it to hide them behind handkerchief and book.

She could hear Mother Christiansen's cracked voice just behind, and tried in vain to join in herself.

Already she glanced out of the big window beyond the choir. On the farther side of the harbour lay a vessel at anchor.

But--it had not been there before! Surely ... yes, it was a vessel just in--its flag still flying!--Heavens, it was the _Erik_!

She stood up to make sure. Yes, it was she. It was she! There was the big white figure-head--there was no mistake.

And Amanda joined in the singing with her masterful voice, till those near at hand looked at her in wonder. Bramsen himself stopped singing for a moment to listen. Then he took up the verse again and sang on bravely as before.

XI

THE CONCERT

There was to be an evening concert at the a.s.sembly Rooms. The local papers for the previous day had leading articles about ”Hans Martinsen, the boy musician who has been studying in Christiania, and is now appearing for the first time in public in his native town.

Critics from all quarters are unanimously agreed as to his remarkable talent, and already prophesy a brilliant future, though his powers, at this early stage, have naturally not yet attained their full development. It is to be hoped that the music-loving section of our community will be numerously represented, that the promising young artist may receive the support and encouragement he deserves.”

The fine hall was splendidly illuminated. The great windows fronting the street shed a glow of light over the crowd of staring idlers outside.

Malla Trap crossed the road, making towards the entrance, but meeting a group of young girls who were admiring the illuminations, she stopped to speak to them.

”Well, children, going to the concert?”

”No--o,” answered one or two regretfully, curtsying as they spoke.

They knew Miss Trap as a sister at the poor school, which most of them had attended.

”Well, come along, and I'll get you in.”