Magnhild Dust Part 13

Ronnaug released her, went to the other window, and did not look round again.

"Is the carriage from America?"

"London."

"How much did you give for it?"

"Charles bought it."

"Is your husband with you?"

"Yes--ja," and she added, brokenly, "Not here; Constantinople--delivery of guns--in September we are to meet--Liverpool." And then she looked up at Magnhild with wide open eyes. What did she mean?

Magnhild wished to go. Ronnaug accompanied her down-stairs, and they both went out to inspect the carriage, about which stood a group of people who now fell back somewhat. Ronnaug pointed out to Magnhild how comfortable the carriage was, and while her head was still inside she asked,--

"Your rooms up-stairs, are they to let?"

"No, it would give me too much trouble."

Ronnaug hastily said "good-night," and ran up the steps.

Magnhild had not gone very far before she felt that she certainly ought to have offered those rooms to Ronnaug. Should she turn back? Oh, no.

This was one of Magnhild's wakeful nights. Ronnaug had frightened her.

And this journey? Never in the world would she undertake it.

CHAPTER X.

When she left her chamber after ten o'clock, the first object she beheld was Ronnaug, who was coming up from the coast town, and was on her way to call on Magnhild--no, not on Magnhild, but on the priest, the young curate, who lived at Magnhild's house, in the former saddler workshop.

Ronnaug at the priest's? At eleven o'clock she was still with him. And when she came out, accompanied by the curate, a shy young man, she merely put her head in Magnhild's door, greeted her, and disappeared again with the curate.

Magnhild found still greater cause for wonder, for later in the day she saw Ronnaug in company with Grong. This wounded her, she could scarcely tell why. The following day Ronnaug called in as she pa.s.sed by; various people were discussed whom it had entertained Ronnaug to meet, but not a word was said about the journey. Several days went by, and it was still not mentioned. Perhaps it had been given up!

But finally Magnhild began to hear about this journey from others: first from the sailor's wife who did the work of her house, then from the woman of whom she bought fish, finally from every one. What should she do? For upon no account would she consent to go.

Ronnaug told her that she was reading Norse with Grong, and also with the curate, in order that neither might have too much torment with her at any one time; she wrote exercises, too, she said, and laughed. In the same abrupt manner she touched upon sundry individuals and circ.u.mstances, mentioned them in the most characteristic way, and hurried on to something else. Magnhild was not invited to the hotel.

Ronnaug often went by pushing her child in a little wagon she had bought; she would stop and show the child to every one she met, but she never brought it in to see Magnhild.

Ronnaug made the most extraordinary sensation in the town. It was no unusual thing at a sea-port town to see remarkable changes of fortune.

Judging from the presents Ronnaug made, indeed from her whole appearance, she must be immensely wealthy, yet she was the most una.s.suming and sociable of all. Magnhild frequently heard her praises sounded; the young curate alone occasionally observed that she decidedly evinced that impatience which was characteristic of such a child of fortune.

But what then did Ronnaug hear about Magnhild? For it might be a.s.sumed beyond all doubt that if she did not question Magnhild herself she at least asked others about her. This was true, but she proceeded very cautiously. There were, indeed, but two people to whom she put direct questions,--the young curate and Grong.

The curate said that during the whole time he had been at the Point, and that was now nearly a year, he had neither heard nor seen anything but good concerning Magnhild. Skarlie was a person who was less transparent; according to universal testimony he had settled in this town merely to study the prevailing conditions and utilize them for his own benefit--"without compet.i.tion and without control." He was sarcastic and cynical; but the curate could not deny that it was sometimes amusing to talk with him. The curate had never heard that Skarlie was otherwise than considerate to his wife--or rather his adopted daughter; for other relations scarcely existed between them. And the shy young curate seemed quite embarra.s.sed at being obliged to give this information.

Grong, on the contrary, called Magnhild a lazy, selfish, pretentious hussy. She would not even take the trouble to tie up her stockings; he had noticed this himself. The hand-work she had started here had long since been left to a hunchback girl named Marie and a tall girl by the name of Louise. Magnhild occasionally taught them something new, yet even that was due not to herself but to her husband, who picked up such things on his travels and spurred her on to introduce them. Upon the whole, Skarlie was a capable, industrious fellow, who had breathed life into this sleepy, ignorant parish, and even if he had victimized the people somewhat, it could scarcely be expected that so much knowledge should be gained for nothing.

Magnhild's vocation? Bah! He had long since given up the idea of there being such a thing as a special destiny. In Nordland, many years before, he had seen an old man who in his childhood had been the only person saved out of a whole parish; the rest had been swept away by an avalanche. This man was a great dunce; he had lived to be sixty-six years of age without earning a farthing except by rowing, and had died a year before, a pauper. What sort of a destiny was that? Indeed, there were precious few who had any destiny at all.

Grong at this time was wretchedly out of humor: he had believed his gifted son to be destined for something; he lived for his sake alone--and the young man had accomplished nothing except falling in love. Ronnaug, who knew nothing of Grong's own experience, was shocked at his harsh verdict. Nor could she induce him to discuss the subject with her, for he declared point blank that Magnhild bored him.

So she once more sought Magnhild herself, but found her so apathetic that it was impossible to approach her.

If she would persevere in her design, there was nothing left for her but to resort to strategy.

In the most indifferent tone in the world she therefore one day announced to Magnhild that in a couple of days she proposed starting; Magnhild would not need to take much luggage with her, for when they stopped anywhere they could purchase whatever they required. That was the way she always managed.

This was about nine o'clock in the morning, and until twelve o'clock Magnhild was toiling over a telegram to her husband who had just announced to her his arrival at Bergen. The telegram was at last completed as follows:--

"Ronnaug, married to the rich American, Charles Randon, New York, is here; wants me to go with her on a long journey.--Magnhild."

She felt it to be treason when, on the stroke of twelve, she dispatched this telegram. Treason? Toward whom? She owed reckoning to no one.

Meanwhile, in the afternoon, she went out in order that no one might find her. When she returned home in the evening a telegram was awaiting her.

"Home by the steamer to-morrow.--Skarlie."

Ronnaug sought Magnhild at eight o'clock the next morning: she wanted to surprise her with a traveling suit that was ready for her at the hotel.

But it was all locked up at Magnhild's. Ronnaug went round the house and peeped in at the bed-room window whose curtain was drawn aside. Magnhild was out! Magnhild, who seldom rose before nine o'clock!

Well, Ronnaug went again at nine. Fastened up! At ten o'clock. The same result. After this she went to the house every quarter of an hour, but always found it fastened up. Then she became suspicious. At eleven o'clock she paid two boys handsomely to stand guard over the house and bring her word as soon as Magnhild returned.

Ronnaug herself stayed at the hotel and waited. It came to be one, two, three o'clock--no messenger. She inspected her guards; all was right.

The clock struck four, then five. Another inspection. Just as the clock struck six a boy came running along the street, and Ronnaug, hat in hand, flew down the steps to meet him.

She found Magnhild in the kitchen. Magnhild was so busy that Ronnaug could find no opportunity to speak a single word with her. She was pa.s.sing incessantly to and fro between kitchen, yard, and inner rooms.

She went also into the cellar and remained there for a long time.

Ronnaug waited; but as Magnhild never paused, she finally sought her in the pantry. There she asked her if she would not go with her to the hotel for a moment. Magnhild said she had no time. She was engaged in putting b.u.t.ter on a plate.

"For whom are you making preparations?"

"Oh!"--

The hand which held the spoon trembled; this Ronnaug observed.

"Are you expecting Skarlie by the steamer--now?"

Magnhild could not well say "No," for this would speedily have proved itself false, and so she said "Yes."

"Then you sent for him?"

Magnhild laid aside the spoon and went into the next room; Ronnaug followed her.

It now came to light how much good vigorous Norse Ronnaug had learned in the short time she had been studying, even if it were not wholly faultless. She first asked if this signified that Skarlie would prevent the journey. When Magnhild, instead of making any reply, fled into the bed-chamber, Ronnaug again followed her; she said that _to-day_ Magnhild must listen to her.