CHAPTER I
[IN BOTH CAMPS]
After Milla's letter, Nora disappeared from the sitting-rooms--nay, for several days she was unable to go on with her work; she was quite overcome. First Tora in her way, now Milla in hers. It was too much for her. She had held the principal place in their mutual life, she had believed all they said, and made herself one with them.
Latterly she had endured mockery, not least from her father, ever since her presidentship had laid her open to ridicule; she had tried to bear this, but after Milla's letter she gave in. As we know, she had every now and then before this time felt her life shallow and superficial. But after this! Over and over again she reviewed the thoughts and actions of her companions since she had been here. She was confronted everywhere by lofty aims, but lamentable weakness when it came to deeds; not least in herself. They had all been easily raised to enthusiasm, yet were unutterably volatile, their heads full of nonsense, vanity and jealousy. In many, was an evil desire which befooled them under a thousand disguises. They were disfigured by the instinct, inherited through a thousand years, to submit themselves to the wishes of the stronger.
She would no longer be the leader of the Society. She could hardly resolve to remain a member of it. It did no good, and she had more than enough to do for herself, for she saw in herself natural gifts, but no stability.
"Genius with disorder," as her father called her mother. Just then the relations between her parents were not good. Nora clung to the school, absolutely hid herself there.
Christmas came; she was free and could have gone home, but she begged to be allowed to stay. She was very lonely; Tinka was engrossed with Frederik Tygesen, who was at home for Christmas; the engagement was now almost openly acknowledged. Anna Rogne was studying philosophy with Rendalen, and was so learned and so happy that she did not at all suit her. Very often, when any one came in, Nora was sitting crying. She had a quick way of brushing away her tears; her hand moved across her eyes as though she were driving away a fly. Then she would smile cheerfully at whoever came--no matter who it was; the reason for her distress was evidently not in the house.
Nora down-hearted! Nora overcome! They all knew that that happened occasionally, but now it had continued so long. Of course she was asked about it, but she at once became so high and mighty that no one asked her a second time.
At last, just after Christmas, came the long-expected letter from Tora. Rendalen invited all her friends in the school to hear it. The beginning of the letter at once explained what they wished to know; it reminded them of something that they recalled at once, but had not up to this time understood; how Tora had been affected the first time that she and Fürst met, that morning up at the gymnasium, when she was excited and overdone; how he had walked slowly up, fixing his eyes upon hers and nailed her to the spot, till he stood by her side. The agitated style of the letter, the constant interpolations, re-writings, protestations, gave a striking image of Tora. If she had not always been careful, she was touchingly so now, perhaps just because she knew that, not without grounds, they might be doubtful about her in this particular. Anna Rogne read the letter aloud to them all; she knew it by heart, and delivered it in a rather precise, but even tone of voice; thus read, the letter touched them. Its many turns and additions came out oddly. The protestations shone out like sunlight through clouds--one laughed, and was moved at the same time.
During the reading, Rendalen sat looking at Nora. He had just heard that she would not continue to be the head of the "Society," and he felt that he must break through the restraint which he had put upon himself.
While the others were discussing the letter among themselves, he sat down near Nora, and talked long and eagerly with her--until some of the others noticed that she often passed her hand across her eyes. The conversation ceased; looks were turned towards them. Fru Rendalen proposed that they should have some music; she asked her son to play something. "With pleasure," he said, but remained sitting thoughtfully.
"What should you say to my first endeavouring to combat the depression which often overcomes a woman when her eyes are opened to her inheritance of frailty?"
Yes, they would all like to hear him.
He said he had been reminded that evening of how, more than a year ago, he had spoken at a meeting of the Society in a very desponding manner on heredity. This had really only arisen from a feeling of depression. His opinion of heredity was simply this, that one inherited quality combats another. One need not be so desponding. In the course of time all families are so mixed together that any legacy of evil (which one must strive to reduce to impotence) has almost always beside it a legacy of good which may be strengthened by use. That is to say, never be guided by chance, but let the teacher first, and ourselves afterwards, be watchful betimes.
He was so imbued with the subject that he was able, on the spot, to give a number of historical examples. He added others to them, gathered from his own and others' experience. The question had occupied him from his boyhood. In his own family there was a predisposition to insanity. Every case which he could trace showed plainly that only when the weakness which led to insanity had been allowed to increase, did this infirmity break out. When this weakness was opposed by the intermixture of fresh blood, by education and self-education, that person was saved for his work in life. Heredity was not a destiny, but a condition.
It was sometimes said that knowledge and surroundings were no help. But what did the letter tell us which had just been read? First, most distinctly, that Tora had an inherited weakness; next, that if Miss Hall had given her lecture four months sooner, Tora at any rate would have been saved, "So we may well say, 'Help one another,' by knowledge and fearless counsel. Woman has been condemned to isolation. Man has sought fellowship and knowledge. Only by fellowship will women teach each other to fight for their own cause.
"'The inward development,' is subject to crises, and then intercourse is burdensome; with this each one must deal as she can. But there is no doubt that we advance our inward development only by doing our duty."
That was all; but from it, and the conversation which succeeded it, was formed, from that evening, the strongest bond of union among all the women who, in the time that followed, supported the cause of the school in the town. From this evening also dated the influence of the "Society" over the school; all discords were subdued before they came to the teachers' ears. Even before this the members of the "Society" were accustomed to go into the different classes to help the more backward pupils before lessons began. This had given them an influence of which they made use. Again, from this evening dated--and in the long run this was the best of all--Rendalen's lectures in the chapel up on the mountain. Every Saturday evening he explained the laws of natural history, illustrating them with pictures and experiments; and every Sunday evening gave sketches of the history of civilisation, when pictures were also exhibited. Niels Hansen defrayed the preliminary expenses, and was always present. Rendalen had begun this partly to gain partisans. He would not "Hang in the wind." But when once he had begun, he became interested in the task which lay before him, and persuaded Miss Hall to lecture every Sunday, between three and four, to the women there. Miss Hall elected to speak alternately on the diseases of children and those of women. She had an immense audience, and this was greatly owing to the fact that the quick-witted young lady at once declared that these diseases, both in women and children, had in no small degree the same origin--men's immoral lives.
But to return to this evening. There are times when human wills, with the projects they have formed, readily unite themselves as though there had never been doubt or separation--a harvest full of promise for a future seed-time. Such a time at "The Estate" was that evening of the twenty-ninth of December. The day was remembered, and often mentioned at a later time. They did not separate till past midnight, and the departing guests sang as they went down the avenue.
As Fru Rendalen was undressing she heard, to her astonishment, Tomas going out; she half opened the door.
"My dear boy, where are you going?"
"It is such splendid starlight."
Fru Rendalen could not be called romantic; she went to the window and peered out from behind the curtain; yes, it was starlight, quite so. There are so many things that a schoolmistress has to think of, that there is no time left for the stars. Yet the tone in which he spoke of them! Tomas had not for some time seemed so happy as this evening. He had never before stayed with them the whole time, till past midnight! He really was beginning to take root, or was it through combativeness? He was terribly like the Kurts.
"Fru Rendalen?"
"Good gracious!"
"It is only I."
"Why, my dear Nora, are you not in bed? I am coming to the door. What! you are still dressed?"
"It is such lovely starlight."
"Tomas has gone out."
"Yes, I heard him. Oh, Fru Rendalen!"
"What is it, my dear? Excuse me, I am going to get into bed. That's it!"
"I am so happy."
"Are you? That's right; you were so unhappy a little while ago."
"All that Rendalen said----"
"Yes, he was capital this evening."
"Fru Rendalen, do you think I might thank him for it? Might I venture?"
"Why, of course! What do you mean, my dear?"
"I could not rest till I had written----"
"Written? When you live in the same house----"
"I thought I would get it sent to him this evening."
"To-night, you mean; you can wait just as well till to-morrow, my dear, and then you can say it to him. You know Tomas is peculiar."
"But this evening he is in a good humour, eh?"
"You want to take a letter into his room?"
"Oh, no; not I myself. Fancy if Pastor Vangen were to come, or Rendalen himself!"
"Would you like me to?"
"Dear Fru Rendalen!"
"Get me my spectacles, and let me see."
"Here they are."
Fru Rendalen read:
"Herr Rendalen,
"I cannot go to bed without thanking you. I did not want you to think I did not wish to do so. I did not find an opportunity for it. Thank you.
"Most humbly,
"Nora Tue."
Fru Rendalen's bed creaked; she got up. "I will put it on his table by the candle. Have you the envelope? There, that's all right. Have you directed it?"
"Yes."
"Just give me my skirt and slippers--that's it. It was pretty of you, Nora. Yes, he was very good this evening: that's it;" and she trotted off.
As she again got into bed she said: "But, Nora, why did you not thank him at once?"
Instead of answering, Nora put her head down to Fru Rendalen, kissed her a good-night, and went lightly off. She turned back. "Shall I put out your candle?"
"No; good-night, my dear."
The winter passed by, and they began to hope that the war might pass off as well as it had done before.
But when minds are excited they require but little to aid them. The political strife was now at its height; the so-called people's party had started a newspaper; the Spectator seemed to them to have attained the measure of iniquity. Between this paper and the new one, the Independence, a fierce antagonism quickly arose, which became most trying to the nerves.
In the spring, on Rendalen's birthday, the "Society" hit upon the unlucky idea of having a large flag-staff set up on the tower, from which waved, on the great day, an enormous Norwegian flag without the "Union." The girls had never thought about the old quarrel over the flag, but Rendalen had showed the whole school pictures of the flags of all nations, and explained to them that, from old times, the Union was only used by States which were incorporated one in the other, such as Scotland and Ireland with England, or the United States of America, and this was what the world understood by a Union, notwithstanding the differing colours of the two flags. "Thus a Union gave us, the smaller country, the appearance of having been incorporated into Sweden."
This flag was looked upon as a demonstration; it was "bringing politics into the school." Rendalen forbade its being again hoisted; he wished to avoid new quarrels. But this was of no avail; angry spirits were roused; all the old accusations were gone over again in the columns of the Spectator and at the club. The Town Bailiff suddenly came forward with a gift of five thousand kroner to found a new school without politics, with unbiassed instruction, without a method which was antagonistic to morality. The donor, he said, wished the gift to be anonymous. He had been most decided on that point.
The Town Bailiff and his wife each added one thousand kroner. It was he who had before proposed that a new school should be started; now he came prominently forward; he had been scandalised. The anonymous gift was precisely the same sum as that given by Fru Engel. Was Consul Engel the donor? Several amounts were subscribed on the spot, but they were not large!
Tomas Rendalen at once put himself up for the club, as did several of his friends, Karl Vangen and Niels Hansen among them. All these were elected at a very full meeting, Niels Hansen, however, with only a small majority; the club was partly built on his ground, and it was thanks to this that he was elected at all. Rendalen's election, on the contrary, was left open. It is true that the rules declared that every admission should be decided at the first meeting, but happily there were a number of lawyers present, and this rule was so construed that it was decided that first really meant next.
The next meeting was largely attended. The Town Bailiff opened it with the astounding declaration that Rendalen must be kept out, for "peace" sake.
A number of men had been sent to this meeting by their respective wives to vote for Rendalen, and one of these obedient husbands made the mild remark that "peace" had already been disturbed by the Town Bailiff's proposal. The last-named gentleman became so exasperated at this that he would not continue, and Consul Engel's solicitor, the best speaker in the town, found it necessary to come to his assistance. His name was Bugge, and he was extremely eloquent. Several solicitors followed him, and all talked more or less about peace, morals, and Christianity--subjects which they, at all events, knew by hearsay.
Karl Vangen asked what on earth these great questions had to do with the matter in hand, whether Rendalen should, or should not, be a member of a social club? But Karl Vangen had hardly stood up before the Town Bailiff pulled a long list out of his pocket. He asked if he might put some questions to Pastor Vangen?
"With pleasure."
"First question--Is it true that Herr Rendalen has said that history cannot well be taught to people who believe that the world began as Paradise and its inhabitants as perfect beings?"
Breathless silence. Karl Vangen began a little hesitatingly: "Yes, that is true, but----"
"I beg your pardon, but I have the word," interrupted the Town Bailiff.
"No," observed one of the "husbands"; "Pastor Vangen undoubtedly has the word. It was he who was interrogated."
Hereon there was a great uproar; the real men were, Heaven be praised, in the majority; the "husbands" had by no means such strong throats.
"Second question--Is it true that Rendalen has said----"
"But dear me!" called out Niels Hansen; "is Rendalen to join the club to be confirmed?"
A roar of laughter followed. The whole room, without distinction of parties, gave way to immense merriment. The Town Bailiff paused. As soon as peace was restored he began again. "Second question--Is it true----" The laughter began again, worse than before. The Town Bailiff stopped abruptly, and left the room; Karl Vangen now began. His friend Rendalen was of the opinion that history lessons ought conscientiously to describe all movements just as they were, and therefore the development of Christianity as well; but to describe the life of mankind as a work of God's dispensation belongs to Church history.
"Is he not a Christian, then?" asked Bugge.
"We have nothing to do with that here," called out Niels Hansen.
"Is he not a Christian?" repeated Bugge.
"No, he is not a Christian," answered Vangen, colouring like a little boy.
"The blockhead," muttered Niels Hansen, and he left too.
"Then he has deceived us," shouted Bugge.
"He should have said that from the first," observed another.
Several shouted at once. There was disturbance, noise, delight. All the "husbands" were frightened, and held their tongues.
A quiet, well-to-do man stood up: "Yes, I could almost have guessed that Rendalen was not a Christian. Women to take the same position as men, that is against Christianity."
Pastor Vangen then again came forward, and he now spoke warmly. Rendalen's actions had been perfectly honourable. So long as Christianity supports mankind's moral consciousness, every school director should see that it was given to the children, as truly and heartily as possible. And it was thus that Rendalen had acted. It was only to be lamented that his instrument was so feeble, for that instrument was himself. But he could assure the meeting that he had full opportunity of doing all of which he was capable.
This made a good impression, and for a moment it seemed as though the discussion would end there. But the man who had spoken before, again rose; it was evident that it was a serious matter with him. "If Tomas Rendalen had said this when he gave a lecture up at the gymnasium two years ago--if he had said, 'I am not a Christian'--there would have been no school."
At the moment Karl Vangen could not think of any reply to this; it almost seemed to him to be true. The voting began immediately, and Rendalen was refused admittance by an overwhelming majority.
"Not," as Bugge observed, "because Rendalen did not believe, for they were tolerant there, but because he had not behaved honourably."
As soon as he could do so, Rendalen gathered his friends, and any others who liked to join them, at a meeting at the gymnasium. It was a very full one. This was a fight which every one understood, and in which most of them took an interest. As well as this, the special woman-question was far more opened up than it had been two years ago; Rendalen was able to speak quite freely. He began by declaring that religion had been made use of as a "last resort." He had been expecting it for a long time. The audience was given an amusing description of the moral and Christian responsibility of the club, enveloped in clouds of tobacco smoke round the card-tables and punch-bowls, and of the virtue of the men, which consisted in a strong demand for virtue--in women, which was an advantage to themselves.
A work to obtain equality between men and women could not be called "Enmity to Christianity." Therefore notorious interpolations of Judaism into Christianity ought not to be sanctioned. If this were done, and the views of woman's position two thousand years ago in Judea were sanctioned--well, in that case, he could tell the Christians that they did not thus destroy the claims of the present day, but themselves. There was no help which he desired so much as that of serious Christians. He considered, too, that the Christian who had no reactionary aims must range himself here with the great French pastor, Pressensé.
As a teacher of history, he had himself endeavoured to point out trustworthily the works of Christianity. As a teacher of natural science, on the contrary, he could not disguise the fact that divers new discoveries were in opposition to the Jewish traditions; an honest teacher of natural science in most Christian schools must find himself in the same case. But the principal dogmas--the belief in God and salvation through Christ--remain unmoved.
The Christian beliefs of the school were unfettered, and directed by a clergyman, whom they all highly respected. He was clearly in his rights when he demanded that his private beliefs should be left out of the question. Indeed, it was his duty to demand this where the question was notoriously merely introduced for the sake of making confusion.
This time the current of opinion against the school was divided by a brisk counter-current. It was a good sign that Miss Hall's public lectures at the school were still well attended.
But what would Rendalen, or his eager opponents, have said, if they had known that the whole movement, from the moment the flag was hoisted, had been directed from outside? That the best contributions to the Spectator had never once been written in the town? That the Town Bailiff was a tool in a light but skilful hand? That the five thousand kroner which had so animated his faculties and morality, and those of his wife, had not come from Consul Engel at all? What would the Town Bailiff, what would lawyer Bugge and his colleagues have said, if they had known that the famous anonymous donor, who had called forth their eloquence, was a rascal who had carefully reckoned on the certainty of these men behaving as they had done, if they believed Consul Engel to be the donor? What would all these worthy men and women, who were fighting for morality and Christianity--what would they have said if they had known that at Stockholm there was a man who reckoned on their zeal and strong prejudices, as well as on the cringing and shrewdness of others, with the same sense of superiority with which we use the wide powers of Nature for the accomplishment of our own ends. But the force of opposition could not be accurately measured from a distance; where women are concerned, it is never easy to calculate; notwithstanding these great exertions, the amount subscribed was small, very, very small.
A mine must therefore be laid, and some of this opposition blown up. And this was done. The report of Niels Fürst's engagement to Milla Engel had died out; it was now renewed, and, with it, the exasperation of the whole woman's party. Angry, scornful remarks were flung over the whole town from Rendalen's circle; they stabbed and wounded both the families, Fürst's and Engel's. Consul Engel was especially offended by Rendalen having said, "All the Consul's mistresses ought to attend on the wedding-day as bridesmaids." Engel gave Rendalen to understand that till then he had held himself aloof from the business. Now, if the wedding took place, the new school should be remembered both as regarded a house and funds.
The person who brought this information to Rendalen received out of hand for answer: "Yes, it is wise of the Consul to put if before it, for there is not a church in the town in which Milla Engel will dare to be married to Niels Fürst." This was really going too far; other people saw this beside the Consul. He now felt himself compelled to act.
The fact was that Milla had not engaged herself again to Niels Fürst--the report was untrue, a mere trick. Up to this time the Consul had not mixed himself in the matter; in such affairs one must be circumspect. He had contented himself by sending her cuttings from the Spectator, small reports, stories, and so on. He had also asked others to write; she no longer corresponded with any one at "The Estate." Now, however, the Consul wrote to her himself. He was so fortunate as to be able to send her a cutting from a Lutheran weekly paper, in which a highly esteemed clergyman analysed the proposition that women have the same right to demand chastity from men, as men have from women: the decided logical result of his analysis being that the proposition was unchristian.
"And now," wrote her father, "what further objection can there be? You love Niels Fürst? If there is any condition which you wish to make in regard to your marriage, name it, my child. The consideration which you and I possess demands that you should be married in accordance with our position in your native town."
Milla complied. If her dear mother's favourite clergyman, old Dean Green, who had carried her mother's gift to the school, would perform the ceremony, he himself, her father, might fix the wedding-day at once. So old Green, the most respected man in the town, was to give his countenance to their side? The Consul felt that this was highly improbable. He wrote to Niels Fürst, that now he had but little hope.
Fürst was not of the same opinion. Most old people incline towards compromise. He gave some instructions to his brother-in-law, and, after the latter had paid a visit to the Dean, Fürst wrote to the Consul that, after all, things might be more hopeful than he had imagined. The Consul was off at once. It may well be that he was astonished when the old man said decidedly that the attacks on the school ought now to end. A peculiar smile passed over the Consul's face as he lamented that he did not possess sufficient influence. The old man met smile with smile; there was no need for influence, he believed. And thus the matter rested.
It was on a Friday morning that printed invitations were sent out to Consul Engel's friends, in this and the neighbouring towns, asking them to honour him by their presence at his daughter's marriage with Lieutenant Niels Fürst.
The wedding was fixed for the following Monday week, at four o'clock in the afternoon, at the Cross Church. It was being hurried on.
To a few of his oldest friends the Consul added in writing that the spiritual guide of his family, his beloved wife's friend, Dean Green, would do the young people the honour of uniting them.
On the same day, about dinner-time, the Consul walked along the quays just as all the business men were coming to, or from, them. Every one greeted him with beaming faces and with great cordiality, and those who were sufficiently intimate pressed his hand laughingly.
Every one had been annoyed that Rendalen should wish to prescribe who was or was not to marry--precisely like Max Kurt in the old days--he, a miserable fellow, crippled with debts, with a great school which might tumble about his ears any day. The news of the wedding, and that Dean Green was to perform the ceremony, was carried by Saturday's steamers up and down the coast; it sprang ashore on the islands, was heard at the watering-places, and slipped away through the woods far inland. It brought excitement everywhere. One party rejoiced; the other was immensely scandalised. But there was not a woman in either party who did not declare that she should go to the town for the day to see it all. The children begged to go too. Mimic weddings took place in the "Groves" and about on the rocks, where an old Dean Green, in a short frock and with bare arms, intoned the service over the bridal pair in a trembling voice.
Somewhat more laggardly the news came that the donor of the five thousand kroner to the new school had withdrawn his gift; that Consul Engel had condemned all the uproar about the school; if it were carried further, he would be obliged to support the recipients of his wife's legacy: her memory demanded no less of him.
Had a compromise been effected? Was Milla to return home as the Angel of Peace?
Some people were incensed; some laughed; some few, including the Town Bailiff, would not give in; but how could a new school be started without Consul Engel? And when in cold blood the advantages were considered, who did not at last wish for peace? The daughter of the school's benefactress married to Niels Fürst--that was in itself victory, and that sufficed. One or two marriages of this sort, especially amongst the most advanced pupils at the school, and the good old constitution, the good old distribution of virtue and authority between the sexes, would remain unshaken. Rendalen, the Society, and Miss Hall might stick to their views if they liked. Tora was never mentioned now.
Milla was to be married on a Monday, and to leave the same night; she was to arrive the evening of the previous Friday; she would not be three days in the town! That did not imply a vast amount of courage, her quondam friends considered. Not one of them went down to the landing-place to meet her. But there was no need for them, for, notwithstanding a drenching rain, it was densely crowded. The wedding for which she was returning, even if nothing special had happened previously, would have been the most important that any one could remember. The bridegroom, aided by the unusually large fortune which he would command, would be able to enter upon a career at Court which would lead to the highest positions in the country. Every one who knew him described him as a "born politician;" not very flattering to politicians, but that I cannot help.
The bride was a beauty capable of becoming a thorough woman of the world. Besides, she was to remain so short a time at home, that every one must secure a glimpse of her.
Flags were hoisted everywhere, but they drooped along the masts in quite a shamefaced manner, mere patches of colour--the beautiful green-clad mountains at the head of the bay were shrouded in fog. Houses, gardens, sea, seemed to lie in a casket whose cover was the grey woolly mist.
The house-roofs were no longer red-brown but black; the houses not white, but ashen grey; not yellow, but a sooty colour; all the tints were subdued by several shades, the houses themselves seemed to crowd closer together, and appeared wonderfully small and crooked to the girl fresh from Paris, who stood, in the rain, on the deck of the steamer which was gliding in among the islands. Only the great building up at "The Estate" and the formal stone walls by the side of the avenue loomed out from their encircling trees; but the red bricks looked dark and ominous, the window-frames a pitchy black, the dumpy frowning tower seemed to stand on the watch; as they drew nearer a huge white flag-staff could be seen on it without a flag. "The Estate" lay hemmed in, wide and menacing. Milla's glances wandered down from it towards the Cross Church with its slender spire, from which the joyful soul of Max Kurt had ascended to heaven; not that Milla thought of this, but under that spire she would, notwithstanding ... But, good Heavens, what is that? all that moving mass of black on the landing-place up to the very walls of the houses? Umbrellas? Absolutely nothing but umbrellas! What could that mean? From all the information which had been sent to her, and perhaps even more from what had not, she was quite convinced that if things were not all that she could wish, yet still there was peace here now, and no danger. Dean Green's authority protected her, and she herself did not wish to do any one an injury. But at the sight of all these people, a remembrance rushed to her mind of the way in which poor Fru Rendalen had been received, when she had returned from her journey with Tora. Milla turned deadly white; a fearful dread seized her. Although she struggled against it with all her might, she could not help trembling; her knees trembled so that her whole body shook; she had to support herself, to sit down. In the short space of five minutes she went through more--ah! more than when her mother died, for then a comforter hovered over her; the gloom was lightened by the hope of a future meeting. Now she felt separated, cut off, plunged into an abyss!
A sound of pitiless laughter surrounded her; people were trying to grasp her hands--where could she creep to?
Her father was on board, but at the moment was down below collecting the luggage and paying the steward. He heard the vessel swing noisily in towards the quay, and then cheers from hundreds of voices, repeated again and again. He came on deck, and his daughter rushed towards him, seized him, pressed herself against him, her lips quivering, and trembling in every limb. She who was ordinarily so self-contained, was in a state of nervous excitement.
"Why, Milla? They are calling out 'Hurrah for the bride!'"
"Hold me," she whispered. "Let me collect myself, I did not know, I thought----" And she cried--ah, how she cried!
Happily there was some obstruction at the quay, and a little time elapsed before they were alongside. The captain stormed; as Milla listened, the strain relaxed; so that when she stepped on shore, leaning on her father's arm, though still pale and trembling slightly, she could smile from under her coquettish hat as she passed in her charming travelling dress. Tears were becoming to her.
What ringing cheers for the bride, for Consul Engel! The crowd was almost all composed of men, and there was no one whom she knew well; but, yes, there are Fürst's sister and Fru Gröndal and Wingaard, and several others. There are flowers and welcomes, friends pressing forward, and cheer upon cheer, and more welcomes--nothing but homage and delighted greetings. More flowers still. The carriage was almost full! She took her seat in it--the same carriage in which thirteen or fourteen months ago she had driven here with Tora. She had no time to recall it. This was splendid, perfect!
At a little past two the next morning a skyss kærre[[5]] drove slowly up the avenue to the school. A closely veiled lady sat in it with a child in her arms. She was expected, for Rendalen came down at once to meet her, and take her up the steps, at the top of which stood Fru Rendalen. It was a touching meeting.