Part 12 (2/2)

”My dear child!” he said, and smiled at her a.s.sault. 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!

Jorgen 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 saeter 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 Jorgen and she rode home, enjoying themselves royally.

As they were propping their bicycles against the house, little Nanna came rus.h.i.+ng 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, Jorgen after her, Mary behind him--across the hall, up the stairs, along the pa.s.sage 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. Jorgen 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 Jorgen 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 grat.i.tude, 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!

Jorgen 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. ”G.o.d only knows if I shall ever get up again! If this is the end with him, it is the end with me too.”

Jorgen 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 Jorgen, 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 pa.s.sionately: ”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:

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