As the fjord widens into open sea, the hills sink into insignificance, and the steamer makes her way between clustering islands, rocky and barren; but on nearing Bergen the scenery again gains dignity, and Bergen itself, lying on a promontory between two harbours, and overshadowed by fine mountains, is strikingly picturesque. There is an air of vigorous life about it; oddly-rigged and brightly-painted vessels scud along before a wind which catches the waves, and tears them into foam; against the beautiful shadowy hills stands a jumble of red-roofed houses, pierced, as it were, by a forest of masts.
Mrs Ravenhill, sitting on the upper deck, swept the scene with what Millie called her air of hungry enjoyment.
“She sees points, effects, and is perfectly happy. What I foresee,” added the girl, laughing, “is a struggling crowd, from which I shall have to defend her.”
“Norwegians are never rude,” announced Mrs Ravenhill.
“Not often. But what of that girl at Stalheim, who demanded money because you had sketched her cottage?”
“Oh, Stalheim! Stalheim is a spoilt place. I do not count Stalheim.”
“You will find points enough and to spare,” said Wareham, “and if you can get on board a steamer, you may have peace also. I suppose Smeby’s will do as well as any other hotel?”
So it was settled, only, as Smeby’s was full, Mrs Ravenhill and Millie went across the street, and had rooms at the house of a kindly, funny little woman, who told them long Norwegian stories, which she found it impossible to conceive were not understood. The days were bright, but chilly, with a spirited wind blowing in from the sea, and ruffling the harbour. The Ravenhills attempted no demands upon Wareham’s hours; he was free to come and go, join them or leave them alone, whether Mrs Ravenhill sketched or made regulation purchases of spoons, furs, or photographs at the shops. This liberty pleased him, it allowed him to live with Anne in thought, and to be miserable over the combinations he foresaw. When two and two must drive together, would not Hugh contrive to be with Anne? No one would prevent it if Anne suffered the arrangement. And to be near her—to look into her eyes! Now that the victory was won, he gave himself the luxury of imagining what a defeat would have brought him: he might have been in Hugh’s place, and his heart leaped with the conviction that he would have been preferred. He walked hurriedly, urged, goaded, by this thought; over his head clouds were flying, gulls screamed to each other, flashing white wings against the grey. He walked long, seeing nothing; when he wheeled round at last, it was more from instinct than intention, and after supper he went out again.
Mrs Ravenhill was not quite pleased.
“No one invited Mr Wareham,” she said to Millie that night. “If he chose to come with us, he might take more trouble to be entertaining.”