She had had a dawning suspicion last night of a want of delicacy in her lover. He would not let her go. She had had to resort to artifice, and had been obliged to lock her door. But she had explained his behaviour to herself as an unfortunate result of those years of longing which had turned his passion into a morbid possession.
Now uncertainty was no longer possible! Only an "experienced hand" could behave like this. She had been deceived! The very best that was in her, fostered and guarded by her noblest instincts, had been led loathsomely astray.
With this thought she wrestled and strove all day long. She called herself betrayed, dishonoured. At first she thrust the blame away from herself. Then she took it all upon herself, and pronounced herself unworthy to live. She did nothing but make mistakes; she was her own betrayer! One hour she said to herself: "Violence was done me, although I gave myself to him voluntarily!" The next she said: "All this has its beginning farther back, and I cannot unravel it."
What a blessing that her own room remained undefiled! The one next it she would never enter again.
With Jörgen she would have nothing more to do! But would he in these circumstances keep silence? She felt certain that he would. His faults did not lie in this direction—otherwise she, too, must have heard something. But that even one human being should exist who——! She wept with anger and impotence. It would break her spirit. It would weigh on her like an incubus—heaviest when she rose highest.
She would meet him! She would tell him what she had taken him for, and what he was—to whom she thought she was going that night and whom she found. He should not be able to boast! But to carry out this intention she must know something about his life. Whom dared she ask? who knew?
When she awoke next morning, her mind was clearer—clearer in the first place as to how she must proceed in acquiring information regarding Jörgen. It must be gathered as opportunity offered, so that no one's attention should be attracted. It was also clear to her that the breach with him, and the meeting which was to prepare it, must be postponed—chiefly for the sake of the old people. But her second and much more important resolve was to restore the equilibrium of her own life, to escape from the unhealthy atmosphere which had been her undoing. This could be done in only one way; she must take up her work again, fit herself to do it better, and gain new courage by success.
Work and duty! She raised herself on her elbow, as if imitating the corresponding uplifting of her mind. The next moment she was out of bed, preparing to begin.
The 50,000 kroner which her father had given to Uncle Klaus, and of which she had found no record in his books—did they not indicate that he probably had money in America over and above that which had been in his brother's business? that the interest which he had not spent had been invested there? that 50,000 kroner of capital had lately been paid up and sent home?
Ever since Jörgen had told her about these 50,000 kroner, the thought of them had been haunting her. Now she must examine her father's American correspondence; they must be mentioned in it. But no American letters could she find, until she opened a small box which was shoved under a book-shelf, and the key of which she found in her father's purse. She remembered that this box had accompanied them on their travels, but she had never known what it contained. In it lay the American correspondence and accounts. It seemed as if, ever since her mother's days, he had kept this American part of his fortune, and everything relating to it, separate from the rest. And a very considerable sum he must still own over there, even although the principal part, the million, was lost. Mary became quite excited. Her father had undoubtedly understood from the fatal letter that everything he possessed in America was lost; and she and the others had received the same impression.