She did not answer him. Again there was a complete silence between them. Just fancy, then her hand of its own accord slipped quietly into his arm, in the usual way when two people are engaged. His whole frame quivered, and taking courage, he pressed it slightly; but did not dare to look at her. They walked on.

Soon the town lay before them as though under a veil, the ships'

rigging rising up like so many towers; or like the pointed sort of rigging dredging ships always have; the houses stood in thick outline, no coloring visible; everything carefully packed up and put away, the mountains keeping guard over the whole. One long, faint, indistinct sound, a dull gleam through the dead-gray silence. "Will you not tell me something?" said she, rapidly, as though she could not possibly get out more just then. He felt quite relieved at this, and asked her if he should tell her--about light.

"Yes, about light," answered she; was it ironical?

He began, but could not do it clearly. The very first time that she asked him for a clearer explanation he felt that he could not give it, he was not sufficiently at home with the subject. "No," he said, "let me finish my story about Jeanne d'Arc; you know we were interrupted yesterday."

"Yes, let us take Jeanne d'Arc!" said she, merrily, and laughed.

"Do you not wish that?"

"Yes, yes!" And she said that more kindly, as if wishing to make up for the first. Then he told her the end of Jeanne d'Arc's story, as it was told in a newly published book which he had borrowed from her father in the holidays. This was a subject that suited him; his west country accent, with the sing-song rise and fall in the voice, his carefully studied use of words, peculiar to one who had once been a peasant, heightened by the country dialect, though it no longer was so noticeable, impressed one with the idea that it was the words of some old writer; his soft and gentle Melancthon-face was dreamy; she looked up at him, and each time seemed to see deep down into his pure heart.

And in this manner they reached the town. The story had taken a hold on her too, and they both became so eager that they were not aware that they might possibly meet someone, and that they now had houses on each side of them; he just lowered his voice a little, but went on telling his story.

But when they came near the street where his aunt lived, and up which he ought to turn, he stopped, without having finished his story. Would he be allowed to take her home? The head-master's house was a little further on; if not, then he ought to leave her here. Now, this was not a question of this evening only.

Just on this account she thought of it too; she had never approved of that sort of nonsense, of being taken to one's own door when the other person's way lay quite in an opposite direction. From their childhood she had always had the same feeling, because she had been teased about him. But she knew that for him it was a great treat.

They both walked along the short bit of road that remained, and worked themselves up to a state of excitement. Shall we say good-by here, or--? What had originally been so childish had now grown, by dint of repet.i.tion, to something of great importance. She could not account for it, but as they stood at the cross-roads, she quietly took her gloveless hand from his arm and offered it to him in farewell greeting.

She saw his disappointment. And to make up for it her large eyes beamed on him, her hand grasped his heartily, and, "Thanks for a pleasant evening!" said she, in quite a different tone of voice from what she had used for the last few years. The words seemed to fly from heart to heart like a life-long promise, and such was their meaning. She thanked him now and always for his faithful love. He stood there, quite pale.

She saw it, and seemed to meditate something--took her hand away, and went. On the hill, she turned again to look at him, thankful that neither by word nor deed had he tried to do anything but what she wished. She nodded to him, he raised his hat.

A few minutes later she stood in her own room, much too warm and too wide-awake to think of going to bed. She did not wish to sleep; at all events, she wanted first to see the sun on the roofs, or at least daylight. Her room looked out on the courtyard, the playground and gymnasium at the end, some gymnastic apparatus stood outside too.

Looked at from the street side, her bed-room was in the second story, but seen from the court it was on the first floor; hundreds of times, as a child, she had jumped out of the window instead of going out through the door. She opened the window, and even thought of jumping out now and walking up and down the court. She would, in reality, have preferred walking about the whole night with Ole; but he could not understand that. Perhaps it was because he had not proposed it that she had dismissed him up the street.

But as she thought more about it, she did not dare to venture out into the yard. It happened sometimes that young men coming home from a country walk or a boating expedition, or jaunt of some kind, would take it into their heads, as they pa.s.sed the old school-yard, to turn into the playground of their boyish days and have a swing on the ropes; she would not like to meet those half-tipsy young men. She took off her hat, and remained standing in the window, leaning forward, gazing out after what had just happened, and which seemed to draw her outward in spite of herself.

She heard steps on the stairs outside, and then in the sand, the way in to her. Could it be Ole? Was he sentimental enough to wish to look up at her window? He must not come! G.o.d help him if he did come! She listened eagerly; no--those steps were too rapid; it was--she knew it as he stood there, it was her brother.

Yes, it was Edward who came. He was not astonished at seeing her, but came straight up to her. And when he had come up to the open window he stretched up his right hand to her, and she took it. His eyes squinted a little, a sure sign that he was excited. "I am glad you are still up; otherwise I should have been obliged to knock." His eyes looked searchingly into hers, and he did not loose her hand. "Have you just got back?"

"Yes, just this moment." All at once she felt herself to be in his power; he might have questioned her about anything in the world and she would have answered, with those eyes of his looking at her like that.

"When I saw you were no longer with the rest of the party, I knew you had gone back to Ole."

"Yes."

He stopped speaking, his voice shook: "I behaved badly; I suppose now you are engaged?"

There was a pause, but her answer gleamed forth directly in her eyes.

"I think so," she said.

Lovingly, yet full of grief, he gazed at her. She felt the greatest desire to cry aloud. Had she done wrong? She was dreadfully alarmed.

Then he took her head between both his hands, and bending down, kissed her on the forehead. She burst into tears and clasped her arms tightly round his neck; they lay thus cheek against cheek.

"Well, well--if it is settled, then--I congratulate you, Josephine, dear Josephine." They pressed closer to each other, then they parted.

"I leave to-day," whispered he, taking hold of her hand; she gave them both to him.

"To-day, Edward?"

"I have behaved stupidly. Good-by, Josephine."

She disengaged her hands to take her handkerchief and press it to her face. "I will come and say good-by," she sobbed.

"Don't do that! No--not again!" And to get it over quickly, he embraced and kissed her once more and left her without once looking round.

II.

NEXT COUPLE FORWARD.

In March of the following year, just as Edward Kallem was preparing to pa.s.s the second part of his medical examination, he came across something else which completely occupied his thoughts.

We must now tell all about it.

At the time when his desultory studies in natural history concentrated themselves more and more on physiology, at that time the cleverest physiologist was a young realistic student, Thomas Rendalen, somewhat older than Edward Kallem. In itself, it was seldom that a non medical student distinguished himself in that branch, so that everybody was struck by it, and of course Edward Kallem too; but he did not on that account become any closer acquainted with Rendalen, who was not one of those who make themselves accessible to all.

It was later on, indeed not until after New Year (as they happened to be on the same steamer coming back after the Christmas holidays), that they got to know each other better. The first evening that Kallem went to see Thomas Rendalen in his own rooms, he stayed the night there. And a few evenings after, when Rendalen came to him, they kept going backward and forward between the two lodgings (which were close together) till between three and four o'clock in the morning. Edward Kallem had never before come across such a genial sort of fellow, and Rendalen went up to him early one morning, before Kallem had gone out to the hospital, just to tell him that of all his friends and acquaintances Kallem was the one he liked best.

In reality Rendalen's was a stronger nature than Kallem's, a mixture of savagery and tameness, of pa.s.sion, melancholy, and music, with great powers of communicativeness, but with recesses in his character which were seldom, if ever, opened. Unbounded energy--and then again so utterly devoid of power that he could do nothing; the whole machinery was out of order, as though one of the wheels were broken. Not a single spot at right angles, nothing but irregularities on the whole landscape of his character; but the light of a great mind was over the whole.

However incalculable were the surroundings, or unpleasant the disappointments--his individuality, with its strict sense of justice, was so winning that one could not do otherwise than be fond of him.

His chief concern was for all belonging to schools, and for education to its very centre; to carry each separate child safe through the "dangerous age" which comes at different times. Many suffered greatly at that time, wounds were made but not easily healed; those who lived comfortably and in better circ.u.mstances could pa.s.s the ordeal unhurt; but they were hardly in the majority. All education and teaching was to be concentrated in forming a good and moral man, that was his first and last thought.

He was indefatigable in lecturing on ways and means of education; in discussing all school arrangements and the work to be done in the homes. His mother owned a widely-known girls' school in one of the towns on the coast, and he was anxious to take possession of it so as to be able to carry out his plans! His great aim was a system of mixed schools; but first the teaching of all the princ.i.p.al branches must undergo a change--be made easier, not suitable only for the most talented pupils. And he intended practising all this at the girls'

school.

He possessed a tolerably large collection of school material from America and from several European countries, and he kept on adding to it; besides that, he owned a whole library of school literature. He lived together with one Vangen, a student of theology who had finished his studies at Christmas, but was just going up for his practical examination; but although between them they had three rooms, they were all three full of Rendalen's library and collections.

His appearance was remarkable. Red-haired (but rather a light color) and the ends sticking up straight in the air, freckled, and with blinking gray eyes under white short-haired eyebrows which were hardly visible; the nose was broad and rather turned up, the mouth pinched; short, freckled hands, every finger denoting energy; not tall, but splendidly made; his walk, on well turned out feet, was very light.

Wherever he went he was the best of all gymnasts, and could climb the ropes like none other; Edward, too, who had always been fond of gymnastics, became doubly eager through his example; for nothing could equal Rendalen's power to win others for whatever he was fond of. At this time his great pa.s.sion was walking on his hands; Kallem could do this to his great admiration; probably that put the climax to the respect that Rendalen had for him.

They had many subjects in common; they were both specialists, and both powerful in whatever they undertook; modern in their way of thinking, and with the courage of reformers; both were particular to the last degree about their persons; they dressed with taste; Rendalen, however, thought rather too much about it. Both had the same quick way of thinking, guessing in advance the half of what was said; both in that way perfecting each other's knowledge! Rendalen was musical, played the piano in a most masterly way, and sang well. Kallem sang still better, and was encouraged in it by Rendalen.

Although Rendalen could with heart and soul give himself up to one single object or individual, still there was a reserve about him which no one could penetrate. He was very fond of Vangen, his adopted brother; but one could always see that there was a decided something that kept them apart. In this respect Kallem was entirely to Rendalen's satisfaction; he too, in the midst of all his devotion to anyone, had the same kind of stand-offishness about him.

But there was difference enough between them both to keep up the novelty of their intercourse, at the same time rendering it rather difficult. Nearly all the difficulties proceeded from Rendalen, for Kallem was more pliable and accommodating. When Rendalen was in the humor, he would play by the hour together, just as though no one were in the room; one might make up one's mind to go away at once. He it was who always gave the keynote to all their moods. He was capricious and could have long spells of melancholy; when one of these fits was on him few could get a word out of him. There was a marvellous power of work in him whenever he was taken up about anything that occupied his mind--and then suddenly, good-by to the whole thing! Were he in a communicative mood and really in good spirits, the very air around him seemed sparkling with electricity.

For Kallem the study of medicine meant fresh discoveries daily, and on account of their mutual physiological studies they both faithfully interchanged ideas, each from his side. During the months of January and February they met nearly every evening; at any rate, at the gymnasium from six to seven o'clock; after that they would often sup together--oftenest at Rendalen's rooms, as he had a piano.

In the early part of March Rendalen's mother came to pay him a visit; she lodged with her son's landlord, a new-comer to the town. He was a native of Norland, blind and paralysed down one side, and had an excessively musical wife; she was very young, in fact almost a child--the strangest couple imaginable. Rendalen often spoke of them.

As long as his friend's mother was in town, Kallem kept away; each time they left the gymnasium, Kallem could see that Rendalen did not wish to have him with him. But when, after a stay of eight days or so, the mother went home again, still things did not change; either Rendalen went on with his gymnastics longer than Kallem, or else he left after a very few exercises; it was clear that he did not wish for Kallem's company. The latter thought that he was in one of his melancholy moods.