Dry Fish and Wet Part 19

Meantime Malla Trap had come to the conclusion that she might as well take up the business in hand with Holm himself at once; it would have to be done sooner or later.

She went up to the drawing-room, and told the maid to go down and ask if Mr. Holm could spare a few minutes.

Holm was somewhat surprised at the message; Malla Trap did not often come round like this of her own accord in the middle of the week.

"Well, my dear Miss Trap, is there anything special the matter since we have the pleasure of seeing you to-day? Or were you feeling lonely, perhaps?"

"Lonely enough I am at times, Knut Holm."

"Why, yes, I suppose--when one is all by oneself--er--one feels that way now and then. I know myself I often feel the want of company, someone to confide in----"

"Ah, but you've memories, Knut Holm, happy memories."

"That's true--but even then--it's apt to be dull all the same in the long-run, with nothing but memories."

"I hear you are thinking of marrying again."

"And who's been kind enough to tell you that?"

"Oh, I had it from a reliable source. But honestly, Knut Holm, I think you will do well to reflect before you do."

"I've put in quite enough reflection over it already, my dear Malla Trap, worked it out all round. I know it means a lot of extra expense and bother, with new arrangements and all that, but seeing I can't reasonably expect to live more than another twenty years or so, I fancy there'll be enough to manage it."

"So that's what you call working it out, is it? Working out sums of money! I thought you were a man of loftier ideals than that."

"I was, in my younger days, Malla Trap. Do you remember the time when we two were fond of each other?"

"I don't think I've forgotten it."

"We were as good as engaged, weren't we?"

"I had your promise, Knut Holm, and I trusted you. I waited and waited, but you never came."

"Yes, it was a pity, I know. But, you see, your father was so furious when he heard about it, and treated me in such a manner, that I simply couldn't put up with it. And then, afterwards, there were those affairs with Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund--but I'm sure I don't know what we want to go dragging up all that for. We've got along quietly and comfortably now together these many years; let bygones be bygones, say I."

"Oh, I've forgiven you everything long ago. But I haven't forgotten, and I've my own reasons for reminding you of it all to-day for the first and last time. So go on."

Holm walked up and down restlessly, wondering what Malla Trap could have in mind. It did not occur to him for the moment that she might be acting on William's behalf, or he might have been less frank. As it was, he went on with a touch of forced gaiety:

"Well, well, my dear Malla Trap, if you must have the old story set out in detail, don't mind me. I'll tell you all about it. I had to marry Maggie, you see; as a gentleman I could do nothing else. And as for Mrs. Gronlund, why, seeing she wouldn't give up the boy, I had to take her as well. Altogether, you see, it's been the boy's fault all along. If it hadn't been for him, you and I might have fixed things up after all."

"Best as it was, I dare say. But I ask you now, for the sake of our old friendship, do not make another woman unhappy."

"But, my dear soul, Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund were as happy as could be. I really think I've a sort of gift for making women happy, when I love them."

"Ha, ha! Excuse my laughing, but really, Knut Holm, I can't help it.

You loved me once, or so you said, at least."

"Oh, we were only children then."

"But I can't say you ever made me happy in that way."

"I a.s.sure you, Malla Trap, I've been more sorry than you know about that business."

"Oh, I don't think you ever troubled much to think what a forsaken woman feels, what misery it means to her."

"Well, honestly, I don't find it easy to put myself in her place, as it were--no, I can't say---- It must be very unpleasant, of course.... H'm. But you seem to have got along pretty comfortably all the same, as far as one can see."

"As far as one can see, yes." Her voice was earnest now. "Has it never occurred to you to think why Malla Trap grew into the eccentric, half-foolish creature people turn to smile at now? Do you know what it means to lose one's whole objective in life? Ah, no, you wouldn't understand; no one else, perhaps, could understand how a woman's life can be made empty, aimless, a mere chaos of existence--though, Heaven be thanked, there have been little rays of sun-light here and there. And when the whole poor comedy is ended, why, I hope there may be some few that will spare a kindly thought for Malla Trap."

"If I knew how I could help you, Malla Trap, I'd do it gladly. But, honestly, I can't see what you're driving at just now."

"I want your son to be happy, that's all."

"Oh--so that's where the trouble lies, is it? Very sensible of him, I'm sure, to get you on his side, but if you'll excuse my saying so, Malla Trap, you'd better leave things alone."

He strode up and down, and the casual, easy-going air he had a.s.sumed gave way to a more serious expression. At last he stopped, and stood facing her.

"There are critical moments in every man's life," he began, "and, and--I reckon I've had my share. I've been on the verge of bankruptcy...."

"In 1875, yes."

"Why--how did you know?"

"Oh, I knew how matters stood then, well enough."

"There wasn't a soul that knew it except C. Henrik Pettersen."

"You think so, do you?"

"There was Hermansen at the bank, he had some idea, I dare say, but n.o.body else."

"I knew." She drew off her gloves and smoothed them out on the table.

Holm stood still, looking earnestly at her.

"Was it--was it you, then, that sent me the hundred and fifty pounds?"

"You've guessed it at last, then? Yes, it was I. I knew you were in desperate straits, that you would be ruined if you did not get help from somewhere."

"After I'd treated you so badly?"

"A woman's heart's a strange thing."

"But why did you never tell me before to-day?"

"I should never have told you at all, if it hadn't been for William's sake. I'm proud of the boy; he's been good to me, and a homeless old woman's grateful for a little kindness. Well, now you know it--and now I ask you again to give up Betty Rantzau; there'll be nothing but trouble come of it, if you go on. And they're fond of each other, I may as well tell you that at once."

"That boy--that boy! It's as I said before; he's been the trouble all along."