Lessons might be easy, but something else was difficult and led to conflict. Mrs. Dawes wished to bring about a general alteration in the child's habits, and here she had the father against her. But he was, of course, worsted, and that before he understood what she was about. Marit had to learn to obey; she had to learn the meaning of punctuality, of order, of politeness, of tact. She had to practise every day, to hold herself straight at table, to wash her hands an unlimited number of times, always to tell where she was going--and all this against her own will, and really against her father's, too.

Mrs. Dawes had one sure base from which to operate. This was the child's unbounded faith in her mother's perfection. She convinced Marit that her mother had never gone to bed later than eight o'clock. Before getting into bed, too, Mother had always arranged her clothes upon a chair and set her shoes outside the door.

From what Mother had done, and done to perfection, Mrs. Dawes went on to what Mother would have done if she had been in Marit's place, and, also, to what she would not have done if she had been Marit. This proved harder. When Mrs. Dawes, for instance, a.s.sured her that her mother had never ridden out of sight on her bicycle, Marit asked: "How do you know that?" "I know it because I know that your father and mother were never away from each other." "That is true, Marit," said her father, glad to be able for once to confirm one of Mrs. Dawes's a.s.sertions; most of them were not true.

The farther the work of education progressed, the more interested in it did Mrs. Dawes become, and the stronger did her hold on the child grow.

She set herself the task of eradicating Marit's dream-life, an inheritance from her mother, which flourished exuberantly as long as her father encouraged it and took pleasure in it.

One spring Marit rushed in and told her father that in a hollow in the old tree between Mother's and Grandmother's graves there was a little nest, and in the nest were tiny, tiny little eggs. "It's a message from Mother, isn't it?" He nodded, and went with her to look at it. But when they came near, the bird flew out piping lamentably. "Mother says we are not to go nearer?" questioned Marit. To this her father answered: "Yes." "It would be the same as disturbing Mother if we did?" continued she. He nodded.--They walked back to the house, perfectly happy, talking of Mother all the way. When Marit told Mrs. Dawes about this afterwards, Mrs. Dawes said to her: "Your father answers 'Yes' to such questions because he does not want to grieve you, child. If your Mother could send you a message, she would come herself." There was no end to the revolution which those few cruel words wrought. They altered even the relation between the child and her father.

The lessons went on steadily, and so did the training, until Marit was nearly thirteen--tall, very thin, large-eyed, with luxuriant red hair and a pure white skin guiltless of freckles, which was Mrs. Dawes's pride.

About this time Krog came in one day from the library to stop the lessons. This had not happened during all the years they had gone on.

Marit was allowed to go. Mrs. Dawes accompanied Anders into the library.

"Be kind enough to read this letter."

She read, and learned what she had had no idea of--that the man who was standing before her, watching her face whilst she read, was a millionaire--and that not in kroner, but in dollars. Since receiving the bank deposits and shares at the time of his uncle's death, he had drawn nothing from America--and this was the result.

"I congratulate you," said Mrs. Dawes, and seized his right hand in both of hers. Her eyes filled with tears: "And I understand you, dear Mr.

Krog; it is your wish that we should travel now."

He looked at her, a glad smile in his bright eyes. "Have you any objection, Mrs. Dawes?"

"Not if we take servants with us. You know how lame I am."

"Servants you shall have, and we shall keep a carriage wherever we are.

Lessons can go on, can't they?"

"Of course they can. Better than ever!" She beamed and wept. She said to herself that she had never felt so happy.

A fortnight later the three, with maid and manservant, had left Krogskogen.

THE SCEPTRE CHANGES HANDS

Two years and a half pa.s.sed, during the course of which Krog was at home several times, unaccompanied by the others. Then it was determined that they should all spend a summer at Krogskogen. With this project in view the three were in a draper's shop in Vienna. Mrs. Dawes and Marit were to have new clothes, Marit especially being in need of them, as she had grown out of hers. It was the first week of May; summer dresses were to be chosen.

"We think, both your father and I, that you must have long dresses now.

You are so tall."

Marit looked at her father, but the materials which lay spread out in front of him engaged his attention. Mrs. Dawes spoke for him.

"Your father says that when you are walking with him, gentlemen look at your legs."

Krog began to fidget. Even the lady behind the counter felt that there was thunder in the air. She did not understand the language, but she saw the three faces. At last Anders heard Marit answering in a curious, but quite pleasant voice:

"Is it because Mother had long dresses when she was my age that I am to have them?"

Mrs. Dawes looked with dismay at Anders Krog; but he turned away.

"Aunt Eva," began Marit again; "of course you were with Mother then? at the time she got long dresses? Or was it Father?"

No more was said about long dresses. No more was said at all. They left the shop.

Nothing else happened. As if it had been a matter of course, next day, instead of coming to lessons, she drove with her father, first to arrange about the dresses, and then to the picture-galleries. They went sight-seeing every day until they left. There were no more lessons. In the evenings the three went, as if nothing had occurred, to concert, opera, or theatre. They wished to make good use of the remaining time.

At the beginning of June they were in Copenhagen. There a letter awaited them from "Uncle Klaus." Jorgen Thiis, his adopted son, had received his commission as lieutenant; Klaus meant to give a summer ball at his country-house, but was waiting until they came home. When were they coming?

Marit was delighted at the prospect. She remembered handsome, tall Jorgen. He was a son of the Amtmand[A]; his mother was Klaus Krog's sister.

[A] Chief magistrate of the district.

A ball-dress had now to be thought out; but the deliberations were short, nothing being said on the subject until they were on their way to order it. The one really exciting question: Ought not this dress to be long? they did not discuss. When the decisive moment arrived, and the length of the skirt was to be taken, the dressmaker who was measuring said: "I suppose the young lady's dress is to be long?" Marit looked at Mrs. Dawes, who turned red. What was worse, the dressmaker herself blushed. Then she hastily took the length of the short dress which Marit was wearing.

The ball was given on the 20th of June, a sultry day, without sun. The guests were a.s.sembled in the garden in front of the large country-house, when the sailing-boat came in which brought Marit and her father; they were the last to arrive. Old Klaus--tall, thin, wearing remarkably wide white trousers--stalked down to receive her. Standing hatless, with shining bald head and perspiring face, he stopped her with a motion of his hand whilst he looked down at Anders in the boat.

"Are you not coming?"

"No, no! Thanks all the same!"

Off went the boat. Not till now did Klaus look at Marit, whom Mrs. Dawes in her long letters had described as the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. He stared, he bowed, and approached her, reeking of tobacco, his big, smiling, open mouth disclosing unclean teeth. He offered his arm. But Marit, who was wearing a long sleeveless cloak which reached to the ground, pretended not to see this. Klaus was offended, but escorted her up to the others, saying as they arrived: "Here I come with the queen of the ball." This displeased her, and every one else, so the beginning was unfortunate. Jorgen, whose place it was to do so, hastened forward to take her cloak and hat; but she bowed slightly and pa.s.sed on.

There was style in this! As soon as she was out of hearing, comment began. Her bearing in pa.s.sing them, her face, carriage, gait, the dazzlingly white skin, the sparkling eyes, the arch above them, the shape of the nose--everything was perfect, and made a perfect whole. It was all over with Jorgen Thiis. He himself was a tall, slender man of the Krog type, but with eyes peculiar to himself. At present these were fixed on the door through which Marit had disappeared. He was waiting on the steps.

And when she came out again and stepped forward to take his arm and be conducted down to the others, she was a sight to see--in a short dress of light sea-blue silky material, with transparent silk stockings of the same colour, and silvery shoes with antique buckles. The company were unanimous in admiration, and were still expressing it as they trooped in to take their places at the tables. Nor was the subject dropped there; Marit's beauty became the talk of the town. To think that these regular features and bright eyes, and that white, white skin should be framed in such a glory of red hair! And the whole was in perfect keeping with the tall figure, the slight forward inclination of the shoulders, and a bosom which, though not fully developed yet, nevertheless stood out distinct and free.

The arms, the wrists, the hips, the legs!--it became positively comical when a group of young men were heard maintaining with the utmost eagerness that the ankles were more superb than anything else. Such ankles had never been seen--so slender and so beautifully shaped--no, never!

Jorgen Thiis forgot to speak; he even for a considerable time forgot to eat, though, as a rule, he liked nothing better. He followed Marit about like a sleep-walker. She was never to be seen without him behind her or at her side.

Her father and Mrs. Dawes had, on account of the ball, come in to the town house. They were awakened at dawn of day by loud talking and laughter outside, ending with cheers; the whole company had seen Marit home.

Next day the relations and friends of the Krog family came to call. The elder people who had been at the ball considered Marit to be the most beautiful creature they had ever seen. At nine o'clock in the evening old Klaus had rowed into town and trudged round for the express purpose of getting some of his friends to come out and see her.

In the afternoon Jorgen presented himself in uniform, with new gloves.

He had taken the liberty of calling to ask how Miss Krog was. But nothing had as yet been heard of that young lady.

When she did make her appearance, her mind was not occupied with yesterday, but with something quite different. This Mrs. Dawes felt at once. The queen of the ball told nothing about the ball. She contented herself with asking if they had been awakened. Then she went and had something to eat. When she came back, her father told her that Jorgen had called to ask how she was. Marit smiled.

"Do you not like Jorgen?" asked Mrs. Dawes.

"Yes."

"Why did you smile, then?"

"He ate so much."