They hurried away, speaking never a word. Sigrid feared that her father would send her home, thinking it would be cold for her on the water, but he allowed her to get into the little boat in silence, perhaps scarcely realizing her presence, too much taken up with his great anxiety to think of anything else. As they threaded their way through the busy harbor, she began to feel a little more cheerful. Perhaps, after all, the matter was not so serious. The sun shone brightly on the sparkling water; the sailors and laborers on the vessels and the quays shouted and talked at their work; on a steamer, which they passed, one of the men was cleaning the brass-work and singing blithely the familiar tune of “Sönner av Norge.”
“We must hope for the best,” said Herr Falck, perhaps also feeling the influence of the cheerful tune.
Just as they neared the “Solid” the anchor dropped.
“You had better wait here,” said Heir Falck, “while I go on board. I’ll not keep you long, dear.”
Nevertheless, anxious waiting always does seem long, and Sigrid, spite of her sealskin jacket, shivered as she sat in the little boat. It was not so much the cold that made her shiver, as that horrible nameless dread, that anxiety which weighed so much more heavily because she did not fully understand it.
When her father rejoined her, her worst fears were realized. He neither looked at her nor spoke to her, but, just giving a word of direction to the boatman, sat down in his place with folded arms and bent head. She knew instantly that some terrible disaster must have happened, but she did not dare to ask what it was; she just sat still listening to the monotonous stroke of the oars, and with an uneasy wonder in her mind as to what would happen next. They were nearing the shore, and at last her father spoke.
“Pay the man, Sigrid,” he said, and with an unsteady hand he gave her his purse. He got out of the boat first and she fancied she saw him stagger, but the next moment he recovered himself and turned to help her. They walked away together in the direction of the office.
“You must not be too anxious, dear child,” he said. “I will explain all to you this evening. I have had a heavy loss.”
“But, little father, you look so ill,” pleaded Sigrid. “Must you indeed go to the office? Why not come home and rest?”
“Rest!” said Herr Falck dreamily. “Rest? No, not just yet—not just yet. Send the carriage for me this afternoon, and say nothing about it to any one—I’ll explain it to you later on.”