After a pause the old man said: “I see. Yes, I see. But—but I’m not worth as much as that altogether.”
“I can put in three hundred thousand of the four myself, in shares. And then, of course, I have the Loreng property, and the works. But put it at a round figure—will you guarantee a hundred thousand?”
There was another pause, and then the reply came from the far end of the room to which Uthoug had drifted: “Even that’s a big sum.”
“Of course if you would rather not, I could make other arrangements. My two friends, who have just been here—” He rose and began to gather up his papers.
“No, no; you mustn’t be in such a hurry. Why, you come down on a man like an avalanche. You must give me time to think it over—till to-morrow at least. And the papers—at any rate, I must have a look at them.”
Uthoug passed a restless and troubled night. The solid ground seemed to have failed him; his mind could find no firm foothold. His son-in-law must be a great man—he should be the last to doubt it. But a hundred thousand—to be ventured, not in landed property, or a big trade deal, but on the success of a piece of construction work. This was something new. It seemed fantastic—suited to the great world outside perhaps, or the future. Had he courage enough to stand in? Who could tell what accidents, what disasters might not happen? No! He shook his head. He could not. He dared not. But—the thing tempted him. He had always wanted to be something more than a whale among the minnows. Should he risk it? Should he not? It meant staking his whole fortune, his position, everything, upon the outcome of a piece of engineering that he understood nothing whatever about. It was sheer speculation; it was gambling. No, he must say: No. Then he was only a whale among the minnows, after all. No, he must say: Yes. Good God! He clenched his hands together; they were clammy with sweat, and his brain was in a whirl. It was a trial, a temptation. He felt an impulse to pray. But what good could that do—since he had himself abolished God.
Next day Merle and Peer were rung up by telephone and asked to come in to dinner with the old folks.
But when they were all sitting at table, they found it impossible to keep the conversation going. Everyone seemed shy of beginning on the subject they were all thinking about. The old man’s face was grey with want of sleep; his wife looked from one to the other through her spectacles. Peer was calm and smiling.
At last, when the claret came round, Fru Uthoug lifted her glass and drank to Peer. “Good fortune!” she said. “We won’t be the ones to stand in your way. Since you think it is all right, of course it is. And we all hope it will turn out well for you, Peer.”
Merle looked at her parents; she had sat through the meal anxious and troubled, and now the tears rose into her eyes.