As Nora first attached herself to Tinka, and through Tinka to others, Milla was offended. When Nora turned to her it was too late; there was plenty of politeness and willingness to oblige, but not a word for her singing, not a smile for her Christiania witticisms; never so much as a glance when the whole class, during one of her lively descriptions, hung admiringly on her words.
Nora could not endure this indifference; she condescended to pay court to her in all those ways which are only known to a young girl. In vain. At last they divided into parties. Nora considered Milla insignificant, egotistic, cold, prim, missish; Milla considered Nora--no, Milla did not consider Nora anything, she let her friends talk and she listened. Nora's jaunty Christiania style of manner and speech were unbecoming, her caprices could not be endured by any one who respected herself; her accomplishments were all superficial, she was characterless; besides, it was considered that some of her remarks showed a want of religion, and Milla's party was religious.
Milla had been confirmed at Easter. The increasing weakness of Fru Engel had given a tone of enthusiasm to her religious thoughts and to the aspect of her mind; she found comfort through it, and need for it, and she endeavoured to lead her daughter in the same direction.
At the time of her confirmation Milla found a confidant in the niece of the Frökener Jensens, little Anna Rogne, who was extremely religious; she was two years her elder, but she was small and delicate; indeed, on more than one occasion her life had been despaired of. Anna had more religious knowledge than most grown people, and she enraptured Karl Vangen at the confirmation classes. Milla, whom she had imbued with some of her enthusiasm, had no objection to share in it to a slight degree. As soon as little Anna observed this reflection of her own thoughts, she rejoiced from the bottom of her heart, and declared Milla to be "spiritually minded." She was astonished that they had not discovered each other before.
Then came the time when Milla's mother was given up by the doctors. Little Anna's energy was more than natural; she watched beside the sick-bed with her friend, she read, she sang, she prayed; for Fru Engel's life must and should be saved; the doctor could not save her, but prayer could--how confident she was, how enraptured! And then when Fru Engel died notwithstanding, she would literally have rejoiced to have given her life for Milla; it was so beautiful to her to see the rich heiress, surrounded with all the comforts of life, pleading on her knees to Jesus; and now, when the prayers had not availed, she still trusted--nay, in the midst of her sorrow she thanked God with her, entirely submissive to His will. Little Anna felt from the bottom of her heart that a bond had been twined between them which death alone could sever.
Milla returned to school three weeks later than the others; she took a place next to Anna Rogne. They drove up together nearly every day, and they returned together in the carriage, for Milla was still living in the country, and Anna was almost always with her.
Milla's return made a stir. Her mourning suited her to perfection; her pale face and subdued manner accorded with it like dull silver work on velvet. The quiet gentleness with which she accepted everything, even Nora's eager worship, gained her much considerate kindness.
The first day or two seemed devoted to expressing sympathy with Milla.
But there was a new face among them, a new figure there on the form in front of her, a new voice, fresh ways--and what was not less important to Milla--a new dress. Especially when the new hat and mantle were added to it, a more daring choice of colours was presented, a more delicate cut, richer details, than she had ever seen before. She knew who the new-comer was--the daughter of the chief custom-house officer Holm, from Bergen, the one with the brown face, large dark eyes, and curly white hair: a curiously shy man, who drank, drank so that it was only through forbearance that he retained his post; he had ten children!
Tora was the eldest, and had been brought up, from her twelfth year, partly in England, partly in France, by an uncle who had been a shipbroker, first in the one country, then in the other; he had just died, leaving his adopted daughter a small annuity. Milla knew all this. Anna had also incidentally observed that Tora Holm was pretty.