Mary Part 14

How could a man control himself in daily intercourse when he was possessed by such pa.s.sionate desire? It must have been acc.u.mulating for ages, or he would never have succ.u.mbed to this a.s.sault upon himself, or made this a.s.sault upon her.

Had he been burning with desire all these years? His homage, his respect, his unwearying attention--was it all smoke from the subterranean crater, which had now suddenly ejected red-hot stones and ashes?

So Jorgen Thiis was dangerous? He did not lose by this in Mary's estimation; he gained! It was praiseworthy, the compulsion which he had exercised over himself--from reverence for her. Ought she to be so angry with him because temptation had set loose the rebellious powers which he had chained?

All the rest of the day, and even when she was undressing, her mind was busy with these thoughts. Next morning she determined that a stop must be put to this. It was a stirring of something which she had suppressed once before, and which must not be allowed to disturb the new order of her life. Therefore she applied herself more diligently than ever to her tasks, and added to their number. She undertook a thorough examination of her father's books and loose memoranda--of the latter there were far too many--in order to find out the general state of his affairs. He must have Norwegian investments, and he could not possibly have spent all the money that had been sent from America. She was, however, unable to find what she was looking for. She could not trouble her father, and Mrs. Dawes knew nothing.

But, close as Mary's application to business was, thoughts of yesterday managed to insinuate themselves. Jorgen's intention had, of course, been to bathe, and to come up and call afterwards. After what had happened he could not do so. Would he ever come again? Would he do so without being invited? He had effectually damaged his own cause. She heard shots in the woods near at hand on the following days; and other people mentioned having heard shooting farther off. But he did not come on the second day, nor yet on the third, nor on the fourth. Of this she approved.

Her thoughts running much on the woods and the heights, her steps also took that direction one day before dinner. The sudden change of weather which is usual in Norway in the second half of August had taken place.

It was cold now; she felt the climb with the north wind playing round her very refreshing. She chose the ascent a little below the houses; it was the easiest. She went up quickly, for she was accustomed to the climb and was longing to be at the top, standing in the wind and looking out over the stormy sea. Even from the first knoll she had an enjoyable view of the meadows, where the farm-servants were spreading out the second crop of hay to dry, of the bay, of the islands, of the sea, black to-day, and bearing on its breast numbers of sailing vessels and one or two steamers. Overhead the crows were making a terrible clamour; a trial was unmistakably going on. She saw one after the other cleave the air and disappear farther along the ridge, towards the north.

The noise became louder the higher she climbed. She hurried; it might be possible to save the criminal. A cold shiver of agitation ran through her. She thought that when she reached the next height she would be certain to see the birds. Instead she saw, as soon as her head cleared the ridge, a man lying flat on the ground some distance off to the north, directly above the house.

It was Jorgen Thiis! Mary promptly lowered her head again; then the joy of revenge took possession of her, and she mounted quickly, determinedly. Jorgen saw her, jumped up, looking agitated and ashamed, pulled off his cap, put it on again, seemed not to know where to look or to turn. Mary approached slowly, thoroughly enjoying his embarra.s.sment.

While still some distance off she called: "So this is your idea of sport! Are you shooting our hens to-day?" Then, as she came nearer: "You have no dog with you? No, of course not; you can shoot hens without a dog. Or perhaps you have none?"

"Yes; but I am not shooting to-day. I have finished."

This quiet, inoffensive answer, which he gave without daring to look at her, produced a revulsion of feeling in Mary. No, she would not be unkind to him! She had heard enough of his uncle's tyranny.

The crows were clamouring louder than ever.

"Listen! They are condemning some poor wretch! I wonder you don't go and help him."

"Indeed I ought to!" cried Jorgen, happy to escape. He picked up his gun and ran, she following, up a short ascent and then along a path on the level. Upon and around two old trees the grey administrators of justice were raving; there were hundreds of them. But the moment they saw a man with a gun, they scattered, cawing, in every direction. Their task was accomplished.

Between two large trees lay an unusually large crow, featherless and bleeding, in its death struggle. Jorgen was going to take hold of it.

"No, don't touch it!" called Mary, and turned away.

She went straight down again as she had come. Hearing Jorgen follow, she stopped.

"You will come with me, won't you, and dine?"

He thanked her. They walked on together silently until they came to where he had been lying. Then he hastily asked:

"How are things going at home?"

She smiled. "Thank you, really well, considering everything."

The smoke from the chimney curled into the air. The roofs with their glazed blue tiles looked affluently comfortable. The large gardens on both sides with their gravel walks lay like striped wings outstretched from the houses. The whole had an air of life, as if it might rise into the air at any moment.

"Had you been lying long here?" Mary asked unmercifully; she regarded Jorgen's mood as a species of possession.

He did not answer. She set off on the last, very steep part of the descent.

"Shall I help you?"

"No, thank you; I have come down here oftener than you."

It was a silent repast. Jorgen always ate slowly, but never had he eaten so slowly as to-day. Mary despatched each course quickly, and then sat and watched him, making an occasional remark, which was politely answered. His eyes, which generally swept over her like waves, ready to draw her in, had difficulty to-day in rising higher than the plate before them. Stopping suddenly, he said: "Are you not well?"

"Yes, thank you; but I have had enough."

A quarter of an hour later Jorgen came out of Anders Krog's room. Mary had just left Mrs. Dawes's, and was opening the door of her own. Jorgen said:

"It seems to me that your father is much better, Miss Krog."

"Yes, he can speak a little now, and also move his arm a little."

Jorgen evidently did not hear.

"Is this your room?--I have never seen it."

She moved out of the way; he looked, and looked again.

"Won't you go in?"

"May I?"

"Certainly."

He approached the threshold and crossed it slowly, she following. Then he stood perfectly still, breathing deeply, she at his side. Was the room hung with lace? He could not collect his impressions ... the bed and the furniture, white with blue, or blue with white; Cupids on the ceiling; paintings, amongst them one of her beautiful mother, with flowers in front of it ... and a fragrance--exhaled not by the flowers alone, but by Mary herself and her belongings. She was there, beside him, in her blue dress with the elbow-sleeves. In the midst of this purity of fragrance and colour he felt ashamed of himself--so ashamed that he could have rushed out. He could not control his feeling; his breast heaved; he trembled, and was on the point of bursting into tears.

Then two white arms gleamed, and he heard something said--blue and white and white and blue, the words also. The door was closed behind him--it must have been done to conceal his weakness. The two white arms gleamed again, and he heard distinctly: "Why, Jorgen! Jorgen!" He felt a hand on his arm, and sank on to a chair. She had really said "Jorgen"--said it twice. Now she stroked his forehead and smoothed the hair back from it, with a touch soft as a flower-petal. It loosed something; everything hard and painful melted under her hand and flowed away, leaving an indescribable feeling of warmth. She who now bent over him was, in truth, the first who had helped him since he was a child. He had been so lonely! There was confidence in him in the touch of her hand. How undeserved! But how it comforted him! He dreamed that he, too, was good, was under the control of beneficent powers. The white and the blue spread a canopy over him. Underneath it these large, sympathetic eyes drew his soul into theirs. He said apologetically and very low: "I could not bear it any longer." What it was he had not been able to bear, she understood, for she immediately moved away.

"Mary!" he whispered. The word fell involuntarily from his lips; he was thinking aloud. It alarmed him, it alarmed her. She moved farther away; a confused look came into her eyes; something as it were failed her. He saw this--and before she could foresee, before he himself knew what he was doing, he was beside her, embracing her, pressing her close to him.

Excited by the feeling of her body against his, he kissed, kissed, wherever his lips reached. She bent away from him, now to this side, now to that, upon which he kissed her neck, round and round. She felt that she was in danger. She had only one arm free, but with it she pushed him from her, at the same time bending her body so far back that she was on the point of falling. This brought him above her; desire awoke, he would take advantage of the situation. But he had to loosen his right arm to grasp her with. In doing so he released her left arm; she set it against his breast with all her strength, and was now able to turn sidewards and rise to her feet. Their eyes met, fierce and flaming.

Neither spoke. They were breathing short and hard.

"Mary!" screamed some one outside. It was Mrs. Dawes. Mrs. Dawes, who was supposed to be unable to leave her bed, stood in the pa.s.sage.

"Mary!" she screamed once again, as if she were about to faint. Both rushed out. Mrs. Dawes was standing in her night-dress outside her open door, leaning against the wall. She was in the act of falling when Jorgen Thiis sprang forward and caught her. One servant after the other rushed upstairs--even little Nanna came. Jorgen stood supporting Mrs.

Dawes until, with their united strength, they lifted her and carried her in. She was incapable of setting her foot to the ground again. Her eyes were closed; whether she was in a faint or not they did not know. She was a terrible weight. It was all they could do to get her across the threshold. Then they proceeded slowly towards the bed; but the worst was to come, the lifting her in. Every time the heavy body reached the edge of the bed, the legs refused to follow, and down the unfortunate lady slipped again. She did not help herself in the least, she only groaned; and before they could get a proper grip, she was on the floor. When they had once again raised the weighty ma.s.s, but not far enough for it to hold itself in position unsupported, they stood helpless, for they had no idea how to manoeuvre it farther. Nanna burst out laughing and ran out of the room. Jorgen shot a furious glance after her. This was too much even for Mary. Three minutes ago she had been engaged in a desperate struggle--now she was seized with such an inclination to laugh that she, too, had to run away. She was standing outside with her handkerchief to her mouth, doubled up with laughter, when the nurse came out of her father's room; he wished to know what was going on. Mary went to him. She could hardly tell him for laughing--tell him, that is, about Mrs. Dawes's position, and Jorgen's and the servants' struggles. Her father tried to ask why Mrs. Dawes had been in the pa.s.sage. This stopped Mary's laughter. One of the maids came from the other room and said that Mrs. Dawes was now in bed, and that she wished to speak to Miss Krog.

Jorgen was standing at the foot of the bed. Mrs. Dawes lay groaning and weeping and calling for Mary. No sooner did Mary appear at the door than she began:

"What was happening to you, child? Sudden terror seized me. What was going on?"

Mary went up to the bed without looking at Jorgen. She knelt down and put her arm round her old friend's neck.

"Oh, Aunt Eva!" she said, and laid her head on the old lady's breast.

Presently she began to cry.

"What is it? What is it? What is making you so unhappy?" moaned Mrs.

Dawes, stroking the beautiful hair.

At last Mary looked up. Jorgen Thiis had gone; but she still kept silence.

"I have never felt like that," began Mrs. Dawes again, "except when something dreadful was happening."