Although he was not quite thirty, he had by degrees acquired a number of curious ways, but each one was the result of something in the development of his character. Had not his fashion of running away from any discussion had its origin in a series of sorrowful experiences?
He was making a noble struggle with the bursts of passion which certain things, certain names, always aroused. The result was that whenever he restrained himself, he choked as though he had swallowed something the wrong way; and if it was very violent, he spat quickly two or three times through his closed lips--not actual spitting, at the most a sort of fine spray.
Tinka mimicked him incomparably. She made a face over little things as though she had taken too much mustard, for greater ones as though she had swallowed soft soap; she would turn her head and give a cough like a cat, or if she pretended to spit, it was with an air of disdainful superiority. Very soon all the pupils followed her example--there was nothing they did better.
At the school, Tomas Rendalen was just what he had been when he first came home--all brightness and life, wonderfully careful in making all his explanations clear, and often quite fascinating in his manner.
It must be confessed that he proved a rod in pickle for the teachers, but there was no longer any misunderstanding him, though they were often on pins and needles when he began to interfere; but it was only necessary to speak to him about it, and he became at once irresistibly charming; this, however, did not prevent a recurrence.
His uneven treatment of the children, his way of treating any subject according to the temper of the moment, remained unfortunately the same, but it was done unconsciously; and this fact, the absolute justice of his mind, and more than all the frankness with which he begged pardon when he had once been convinced that he was to blame, set things for the most part right again.
Miss Hall was obliged to confess that she had looked too hardly on this his incorrigible failing, as well as on several others; for even his admirers had to allow that he was not perfect. For instance, in the face of several classes assembled for a lecture on physics, he would begin to carve a face on the laboratory table, which some chance had begun there, and shortly afterwards would rave like a Turk because a little girl had cut a tiny little name on her desk! "Did she think that was what she came to school for? did she suppose her desk was made to be cut to pieces?"
Fru Rendalen sent word from Stockholm that Furst was away, but was to return in a few days, they must therefore wait. She would employ the time in establishing Tora in some respectable family, and in collecting some requisites for the school. They had made the journey slowly, and notwithstanding the time of year it had done them both good, as did their stay in Stockholm. The letter was very hopeful, Tora improved every day. Rendalen was enchanted; any one who did not know him would have thought that he looked upon Tora's misfortunes as the greatest good luck. "Now you see," he called out cheerfully whenever he met any of those in the secret. What he meant by it was not very easy to understand.
But his certainty of victory and that of the others received a serious blow when the report spread about that Niels Furst was engaged! and to whom? To "Your affectionate friend, your ever grateful Milla Engel."
The report came from Anton Dosen, Niels Furst's greatest friend; he did not give it as more than a rumour, but he believed that it was certain.
The families on both sides were diplomatic; they knew nothing about it.
The members of the Society were a sight to see when they met during this time! Above all, Tinka Hansen, when she solemnly opened the register and pointed to Milla's name! She could take her oath that every one looked upon Niels Furst as thoroughly immoral. No one had been more severe than Milla; her mother's legacy made this only natural. No, this engagement was impossible! One could not think so badly of her. Such a thing would be disloyal, both to the living and to the dead. Milla's different letters to Nora from Paris were now read aloud again.
She and an American lady were living in a French family, who had had great losses, but who had aristocratic relations and acquaintances; she lived in a legitimist atmosphere, but it was not too severe. She had both the opportunity and the inclination to admire everything "fine,"
independent of religion and politics--everything fashionable, everything where talent and beauty were to be found. And she used her opportunity; "with my enthusiastic temperament, you know," wrote Milla.
She had begun as a loyal member of the Society, the obedient pupil of the school, and therefore gibed at the French spirit. But almost without warning she turned round: paintings, novels, and theatrical representations enchanted her; life, even when viewed from a distance, stimulated her.
It was evident that this was no real change of opinion; one heard the American's voice, though the writing was Milla's; but for this very reason it had not received the attention which it deserved.
Milla wrote that what they believed when they were together at school would not really do: her father had been right. In every letter she related something or another which was to prove this--not in the slightest degree in doubtful taste; on the contrary, with a delicacy which was not without its talent. "One must have no illusions," she wrote; "one will thus be least unhappy." Nora had replied, giving her her opinion of it.
This all now received fresh importance. Was Milla's way of writing something more than the reflection of the life around her? Was it really a well-considered introduction to her engagement to Niels Furst?
Impossible! Nora was above thinking so ill of friends. She had given Tora her solemn promise not to tell anything to Milla; she now considered herself released from it, and wrote out of the fulness of her heart. Tinka wrote as well; she was full of the offence against Tora, and the report that it was to such a person that Tora's greatest friend had engaged herself--she whose name stood in the register!
Five days passed before they again received a letter from Fru Rendalen, and it was short and dry. Furst had not yet returned. A short time afterwards they received a long and touching letter from Tora, and then several days passed without anything further from either of them. Ten days had gone by since Nora and Tinka had written to Milla--they would have sworn that she would have answered at once. She ought to have done so after such a piece of information and such a charge.
They became very nervous, especially when some one, who had taken no part in the affair, now remarked that, as soon as she had heard that Milla and Furst were travelling together, she had thought "that would be a suitable match."
Of course, this was Anna Rogne: why had she not said anything? "Because the others would have mistrusted it; and," she added, smiling, "it would have been wrong." At last one afternoon, when Nora came in from the singing lesson, she found a sealed envelope on the table in the sitting-room. "Here it is," was written at the bottom in Rendalen's large handwriting. Nora suspected bad news, as he had not brought it to her at once. She had promised the others not to read it before they came, but one cannot keep those sort of promises.
Fru Rendalen had had her great conversation with Furst. He had listened to all she told him with a cool politeness, as if he had been prepared for it, and when at last he had to answer, he began by saying that this was difficult, as their views differed so much as to the person in question. In his eyes Tora Holm was, in no small degree, a sensual woman, who could hardly restrain herself in the neighbourhood of a man.
To the question if he were aware of the power which he possessed, he answered "Yes." It only, however, affected a certain description of woman, and Tora was precisely one of these. He was under no more obligation to marry her than any other with whom he had had an intrigue. He would provide for the child, and for her as well, with pleasure--that is to say, he would make a reasonable annual allowance.
Fru Rendalen threatened to bring the whole thing before his superiors, or even, if necessary, before the King.
"Pray do; I can reach as far as you can, Frue."
She said to him that this would be a hard fight; to which he answered that he knew how it should be conducted--he was not going to have his career spoilt by a lot of schemers. The lady in question was stamped in good society as a _femme entretenue_--it was shocking to wish to force her upon him as his wife.
He understood what it all meant: he was to offer himself up for the school, but he was not inclined to be so amiable. He knew what kind of lectures were given both in the girls' "Society" and elsewhere--what sort of conversations and readings they had had; it was natural enough that sensual natures should be aroused by such things. He therefore considered that the school should bear the blame; it would have a good deal of that sort of thing.
Fru Rendalen had a decided impression that something had happened to annoy him, and that, before he came to her, he knew for what he would be called in question. The conversation had so agitated her that she became ill, which was the reason for her not writing sooner. She had not wished to mention her illness until she could say, at the same time, that she was starting the next day. This she could now do. She had not the courage to undertake anything more in this strange place, nor did she think it would be wise. As far as she could understand, publicity and open war were just what he wished for.
He was a dreadful man; they must all be on their guard. She had no doubt that this would bring their school into danger, and remain a great grief to Tora and her innocent friends. Tora was quite overcome.
They both looked forward with dread to the parting to-morrow.
The letter closed with a lament that this warfare, which had arisen out of the school work, should never have an end. "Our enemies have gained a dangerous ally; we shall soon see if we have gained any as well."
Late that evening--Miss Hall, Tinka, and Anna Rogne had all read the letter, and were in the sitting-room with Nora--there arrived a telegram. They supposed that it was from Fru Rendalen to Tomas, and Nora had got up to ask one of the servants to take it to him, when Tinka called out that it was not for Rendalen, but for Nora herself.
"For me?" asked Nora, and came forward. It was true, it was for her, from Milla. It ran: "_Frightful: report untrue_."
A fortnight had passed since Nora and Tinka had written. Milla had therefore had the letters for ten days, and then sent--a telegram! What did it mean? While the others soon forgot it in Fru Rendalen's news, compared to which this last event was comparatively indifferent, Anna Rogne remained sitting with the telegram in her hand. She pondered over it.
The others began to ask themselves whether they also would now be mixed up in the Tora scandal. "War" might already be declared. If Niels Furst had written to any one in the town and given _his_ version, what would happen? A time might come when they would hardly dare, any one of them, to show themselves in the streets.
Anna Rogne interrupted them. "This telegram; ought it not to be taken in to Rendalen?" Yes, of course, and it was done at once. They all expected that Rendalen would come to them directly, but they waited in vain; on the contrary, they heard him a little time afterwards at the piano.
"Well, as Rendalen does not seem to pay any attention to this telegram either, perhaps I may be allowed to suggest what may have happened?"
asked Anna, rather ceremoniously. The state of things she thought must be that Furst and Milla really had been engaged, but that on the receipt of Nora's letter she had at once broken it off, with such an intimation as to make him understand the reason; that was why he had been prepared to meet Fru Rendalen, that was why he wished for publicity and war. He can never win the day without it, and he must win; a marriage with the richest girl in any of the coast towns is the condition for the success of his career. Just because Milla had been engaged to him she had been ashamed to write. She had reflected--tried as well, perhaps--until she had found a way out of the difficulty by telegraphing.
Anna ended by saying, "I suspect that Lieutenant Furst is at this moment in Paris."
It may as well be said at once that Anna's position in regard to Milla was fateful for the latter. It influenced firstly those whom she was constantly among, later Fru Rendalen. Neils Furst really was on the way to Paris, but if Milla's friends had sent on Fru Rendalen's letter to her she would hardly have received him; and if they had asked Tora to write to Milla--as she at a later time, when it was necessary, wrote to them--he would never have been able to approach her either personally or by letter. Indeed, even as it was he did not do so. He had first to obtain help from home; but he had taken that into consideration, he had not wasted his time.
CHAPTER IV
WAR
The day before Fru Rendalen's letter and Nora's telegram reached "The Estate," Anton Dosen had received a letter from Furst. It had been well considered before it was written, and evidently was intended to be read aloud or sent the round of the town. In his narration about Tora he laid great stress upon their meeting at Fru Grondal's. He had only seen her once before, and only in passing; he had not the slightest idea that he should meet her there. She had been entertaining and pleasant, Fru Grondal had said, until he came, when she became unnatural at once; she could not bear him to speak to Fru Grondal, she hid herself, and let herself be sought for, and then took it into her head to go away.
Of course he followed her, just to see what it was all about. As soon as he came near her on board the boat, she began to cry. She would not let him help her on shore; but all the same, she walked past his house every day, and peeped in to see if he were at home, and then went on to the wood or up to the "Groves"--alone. He recalled certain readings and lectures up at the school; it seemed to him that a girl who had come from an atmosphere so exciting to the senses, would be sure to conduct herself somewhat in that way. He thought that this was "magnetic influence" enough, no more was needed.
He would not deny that at last he had allowed himself to be tempted to follow her into the wood, where she amused herself by playing hide-and-seek with him. Little girls always begin in that way. But he asked if any man, with a regard for himself would marry a girl who went past his windows every day to tempt him out into the woods. Fru Rendalen thought otherwise. She had come after him to Stockholm to arrange the marriage on the spot. It might have proved like her own.
For his part, he had far too high a conception of marriage to attempt to profane it in such a way. He had offered to support the girl, at all events as long as the child remained a burden, and he would acknowledge it as his. Honour and duty compelled him to go thus far, but further---- That would be to patch a bad business with a still worse one.
To this every one to whom Dosen read the letter agreed. He read it in the shop, in the streets, at the club. Some people borrowed the letter from him, and although the paper had been carefully chosen, it was passed about so much that it became an illegible rag. Two copies had been made of it, one for Rendalen, at his request, and one--yes, Dosen hesitated a moment about this one, but after repeated requests he could not refuse--for Tora Holm's mother. He obtained some enjoyment from this copy. Tora's mother was a violent, powerful woman, embittered in the struggle of life. She looked with doubt and scorn upon most circumstances. When angry she was regardless of consequences. One morning, in the middle of school time, she came up to "The Estate" in a heavy, shabby duffel cloak, a bonnet with bright-coloured feathers, and her bare hands in an old muff, with which she gesticulated while she cried and screamed. In the broadest Bergen accent she demanded her daughter--they must give her back her daughter; they had ruined her and stolen her. She was a good girl when she went there, but "up here, in the cursed old Kurt house, she had been ruined. Now, God forgive them for it, she was brought to shame, and made the talk of the town. She, her mother, had been stuffed with lies." But they should pay for it; they should be locked up. She would send the police after them. Her passion was uncontrollable, but her grief was real.
All fled far and wide, so she burst into one of the classes, which at once broke up, the teacher deserting her post. She contrived to break up three classes in this fashion: she made a tremendous turmoil. Some of the girls were so frightened that they rushed right up to the top attic, and stood there shivering, straining their ears and wondering if they dare go down. Some of the elder pupils, who remembered from stories that on such occasions you must show determination, remained behind, and tried to talk her into reason. But at this she became beside herself. This was evidently an example of the way in which they learned to be indecorous up here. It shocked her that "the children of worthy men" should justify such a thing. They had to run away as well, with their fingers in their ears.
But the little ones got the greatest amusement out of her. They surrounded her, and followed her about in triumph. The whole procession swept into the kitchen, where she began the same story. The occupants felt sorry for her, but they did not venture to say a word. So the whole train went off again along the hall, to Rendalen's door, which was fastened, then to Karl Vangen's, which was also fastened, back to Fru Rendalen's, which was open. In they went, she wanted to see if she could not find Rendalen.
Rendalen was in the town, and would not return for an hour. But Karl Vangen came in. He very gravely commanded silence, sent away the children, and took the poor mother into his own room. There she sat for at least an hour, and poured out her heart to him. It was a bewildered tirade, about Tora, about her husband who drank, about their poverty.
At last she went away down the avenue, with a hundred kroner in her pocket, weeping quietly.