"You don't understand me, my poor child! It is not your fault, it is ours. We gave in to you too much. But you behaved so badly if we did not."

Mary looked up, startled: "I behaved badly?"

"I spoke to your father, child; I spoke to him on the subject often. But he was so tender-hearted; he always found some excuse."

Jorgen entered with the doctor.

"If any complication arises, Miss Krog, the worst may happen."

"Will he be paralysed?" asked Mrs. Dawes.

The doctor evaded the question; he merely said: "Quiet is all important."

Silence followed this utterance.

"Miss Krog, I cannot allow you to nurse your father. There ought to be two trained nurses."

Mary said nothing. Mrs. Dawes began to cry again. "This is a sad change of days."

The doctor took leave, and was escorted downstairs by Jorgen Thiis. When Jorgen returned, he asked softly: "Shall I go too--or can I be of any use?"

"Oh, do not leave us!" wailed Mrs. Dawes.

Jorgen looked at Mary, who said nothing; nor did she look up. She was weeping silently.

"You know, Miss Krog," said he respectfully, "that there is no one to whom I would so willingly be of service."

"We know that, we know that!" sobbed Mrs. Dawes.

Mary had raised her head, but, Mrs. Dawes having spoken, she said nothing.

When she left the room soon afterwards, Jorgen was just opening his door, which was next to Mary's. He stood for a moment with the door wide open, so that she saw the packed portmanteau behind him. She stopped.

"You are going?" she said.

"Yes," answered he.

"It will be very quiet here now."

Jorgen expected more, but no more came. Then he said:

"The shooting season begins immediately. I had intended to ask your father's permission to shoot in his woods."

"If you consider mine sufficient, you have it."

"Thank you, Miss Krog! You will allow me, too, to look in upon you sometimes, I hope?" He took her hand and bowed deeply over it.

Then he went in to take leave of Mrs. Dawes. With her he stayed ten minutes at least, coming out just as Mary was crossing the pa.s.sage to her father's room.

As she stood by the bed Anders began to move, and opened his eyes. She knelt down. "Father!"

He seemed to be collecting his thoughts; then he tried to speak, but could not. She said quickly: "We know, Father; we know everything. Don't trouble about it! We'll get on beautifully all the same."

Her father's eyes showed that he took in what she said, though slowly.

He tried to lift his hand, and, finding that he could not, looked at her with an expression of painful surprise; she lay down close to him, kissed him and wept.

Anders improved, however, with astonishing rapidity. Was it Mary's presence and untiring attention which helped him? The nurse said that it was.

Then came a time when, though still indefatigable in her attention to the two invalids, she learned to manage both house and farm. She took the accounts and the superintendence into her own hands. It was a task she enjoyed, for she had the gift of order and management. Mrs. Dawes was astonished.

No anxiety for the future did Mary display, no regret for the pleasures of the past. To those who pitied her she said that it was indeed sad that her father and Mrs. Dawes were ill, but that except for this she was perfectly contented.

One unusually warm day in the middle of August she had been very busy since early morning, looking forward all the time to a plunge in the sea as soon as her work was done.

Between five and six they ran down, Mary and little Nanna. They both went into the bathing-house, for it was one of Nanna's greatest pleasures to attend to Mary's beautiful hair; to-day it was to hang loose. After taking it down, Nanna ran up to the big stone on the ridge, to keep a look-out on both sides. Mary meant to go into the water with nothing on, that she might enjoy her bath thoroughly.

She swam out at once to the island. From there she could herself see the inlet on both sides and the roads. No one anywhere, no danger--therefore back again!

The sea caressed and upheld her; upon the arms that clove it the sun played; the land in front lay in the repleteness of a rich aftermath; sea-birds rocked on the waves, others screamed in the air above Mary's head. "Imagine that I was afraid of being alone--!" thought she.

When she approached the sh.o.r.e she did not leave the water, but lay on her back and rested; then took a few strokes and rested again. The beach looked inviting; she lay down on it in the blazing sun, her head supported on a stone, her hair floating. Oh, how delicious! But something suddenly warned her to look up. She could not be troubled.

Yes, she ought to look up to where Nanna was sitting. No, she would not; Nanna was on the look-out. Yet the suggestion had put an end to her enjoyment. When she rose to walk along to the bathing-house steps, she saw behind the big stone--Jorgen Thiis with his gun over his shoulder!

The little girl was standing on the top of the stone motionless, staring at him as if she were spell-bound.

The blood rushed through Mary's veins in hot waves of fury and loathing.

Is he utterly shameless? Or has he gone out of his mind? To outward appearance she behaved as if she saw nothing; she plunged into the sea and swam to the steps, walked calmly up them, and disappeared.

But her breath was coming hard and short, and she was so hot that she forgot to dry herself, forgot to dress. Hotter and hotter she grew, until she was positively boiling with rage and desire for vengeance. The polite Jorgen Thiis had dared to insult her as she had never in her life been insulted!

Her mind wrestled with the thought of this senseless, dishonourable surprisal until she became involved in a train of ideas which carried her away. She was standing again in front of the acrobat's powerful body; Alice's knowing eyes were upon her. She trembled--then screams from the child reached her ear. In her excitement she almost screamed back. What could it mean? There was no window on that side. She dared not look out at the door, for she was naked. Never had she dressed in such haste, but for this very reason everything went wrong, and time pa.s.sed. She would not appear before Jorgen Thiis half dressed.

Just as she was ready to open, she heard the pitapat of little Nanna's steps on the bridge from the bank. Mary tore the door open; the child came rushing in, hid her head in her mistress's dress, and cried and sobbed so that she could not utter a word.

Mary managed to soothe her, princ.i.p.ally by promising that she should be allowed to dress her hair. Then Nanna told that before she had noticed anything, Mr. Thiis was standing behind the stone. She had been sitting singing and had not heard him. He made threatening signs to her. Oh, how frightened she had been--for he looked so dreadful! oh, so dreadful! The moment Mary went into the house, he had rushed straight towards it.

"Jorgen Thiis?"

"Then I screamed as loud as I could scream! _That_ stopped him. He turned and was coming back to me, but I jumped off the stone and ran into the wood----" Here words failed her; she hid her face in Mary's skirts again and sobbed.

This was worse than ever! Mary at first felt totally unable to comprehend.

Then it gradually dawned upon her that Jorgen must be another man than she took him for--that he had violent pa.s.sions--that he had the daring to act with utter recklessness. What if he had come...?

Conscious of her pride and strength, she knew that it would have meant banishment for ever--impossibly anything else.

On the way home she had to send Nanna on in front, because she herself felt hardly able to set one foot before the other, so overpowering were her thoughts.