Part 14 (2/2)

”Yes, thank you; but I have had enough.”

A quarter of an hour later Jorgen came out of Anders Krog's room. Mary had just left Mrs. Dawes's, and was opening the door of her own. Jorgen 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.”

Jorgen 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, Jorgen! Jorgen!” He felt a hand on his arm, and sank on to a chair. She had really said ”Jorgen”--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 pa.s.sage.

”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 Jorgen Thiis sprang forward and caught her. One servant after the other rushed upstairs--even little Nanna came. Jorgen 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 ma.s.s, 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. Jorgen 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 Jorgen's and the servants' struggles. Her father tried to ask why Mrs. Dawes had been in the pa.s.sage. 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.

Jorgen 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 Jorgen. 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. Jorgen Thiis had gone; but she still kept silence.

”I have never felt like that,” began Mrs. Dawes again, ”except when something dreadful was happening.”

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