Milla was to be married on a Monday, and to leave the same night; she was to arrive the evening of the previous Friday; she would not be three days in the town! That did not imply a vast amount of courage, her quondam friends considered. Not one of them went down to the landing-place to meet her. But there was no need for them, for, notwithstanding a drenching rain, it was densely crowded. The wedding for which she was returning, even if nothing special had happened previously, would have been the most important that any one could remember. The bridegroom, aided by the unusually large fortune which he would command, would be able to enter upon a career at Court which would lead to the highest positions in the country. Every one who knew him described him as a "born politician;" not very flattering to politicians, but that I cannot help.

The bride was a beauty capable of becoming a thorough woman of the world. Besides, she was to remain so short a time at home, that every one must secure a glimpse of her.

Flags were hoisted everywhere, but they drooped along the masts in quite a shamefaced manner, mere patches of colour--the beautiful green-clad mountains at the head of the bay were shrouded in fog.

Houses, gardens, sea, seemed to lie in a casket whose cover was the grey woolly mist.

The house-roofs were no longer red-brown but black; the houses not white, but ashen grey; not yellow, but a sooty colour; all the tints were subdued by several shades, the houses themselves seemed to crowd closer together, and appeared wonderfully small and crooked to the girl fresh from Paris, who stood, in the rain, on the deck of the steamer which was gliding in among the islands. Only the great building up at "The Estate" and the formal stone walls by the side of the avenue loomed out from their encircling trees; but the red bricks looked dark and ominous, the window-frames a pitchy black, the dumpy frowning tower seemed to stand on the watch; as they drew nearer a huge white flag-staff could be seen on it without a flag. "The Estate" lay hemmed in, wide and menacing. Milla's glances wandered down from it towards the Cross Church with its slender spire, from which the joyful soul of Max Kurt had ascended to heaven; not that Milla thought of this, but under that spire she would, notwithstanding ... But, good Heavens, what is that? all that moving ma.s.s of black on the landing-place up to the very walls of the houses? Umbrellas? Absolutely nothing but umbrellas!

What could that mean? From all the information which had been sent to her, and perhaps even more from what had not, she was quite convinced that if things were not all that she could wish, yet still there was peace here now, and no danger. Dean Green's authority protected her, and she herself did not wish to do any one an injury. But at the sight of all these people, a remembrance rushed to her mind of the way in which poor Fru Rendalen had been received, when she had returned from her journey with Tora. Milla turned deadly white; a fearful dread seized her. Although she struggled against it with all her might, she could not help trembling; her knees trembled so that her whole body shook; she had to support herself, to sit down. In the short s.p.a.ce of five minutes she went through more--ah! more than when her mother died, for then a comforter hovered over her; the gloom was lightened by the hope of a future meeting. Now she felt separated, cut off, plunged into an abyss!

A sound of pitiless laughter surrounded her; people were trying to grasp her hands--where could she creep to?

Her father was on board, but at the moment was down below collecting the luggage and paying the steward. He heard the vessel swing noisily in towards the quay, and then cheers from hundreds of voices, repeated again and again. He came on deck, and his daughter rushed towards him, seized him, pressed herself against him, her lips quivering, and trembling in every limb. She who was ordinarily so self-contained, was in a state of nervous excitement.

"Why, Milla? They are calling out 'Hurrah for the bride!'"

"Hold me," she whispered. "Let me collect myself, I did not know, I thought----" And she cried--ah, how she cried!

Happily there was some obstruction at the quay, and a little time elapsed before they were alongside. The captain stormed; as Milla listened, the strain relaxed; so that when she stepped on sh.o.r.e, leaning on her father's arm, though still pale and trembling slightly, she could smile from under her coquettish hat as she pa.s.sed in her charming travelling dress. Tears were becoming to her.

What ringing cheers for the bride, for Consul Engel! The crowd was almost all composed of men, and there was no one whom she knew well; but, yes, there are Furst's sister and Fru Grondal and Wingaard, and several others. There are flowers and welcomes, friends pressing forward, and cheer upon cheer, and more welcomes--nothing but homage and delighted greetings. More flowers still. The carriage was almost full! She took her seat in it--the same carriage in which thirteen or fourteen months ago she had driven here with Tora. She had no time to recall it. This was splendid, perfect!

At a little past two the next morning a _skyss kaerre_[5] drove slowly up the avenue to the school. A closely veiled lady sat in it with a child in her arms. She was expected, for Rendalen came down at once to meet her, and take her up the steps, at the top of which stood Fru Rendalen. It was a touching meeting.

CHAPTER II

A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR

Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, two unlucky printer's devils trudged off, each on his own beat, with the _Spectator_. They threw it into the pa.s.sages, left it on the steps, pushed it under the gates. They must hurry on! The church was full long ago; by this time the marketplace was packed from one end to the other.

When the worthy burghers returned home and found the _Spectator_, they read the following:--"As we go to press our town presents a most festal appearance. Naval Lieutenant Niels Furst and Froken Emilie Engel, members of two of the oldest and most respected families in the town, are to-day to be united at four o'clock, in the Cross Church, by our venerable Dean. From the country, where all the families who have the means are now enjoying their summer holiday, there has been an immense influx of people to witness the ceremony. As well as this, our streets are filled by a considerable number of strangers. It is understood that Consul Engel has received the good wishes of his Majesty, through the High Chamberlain of the Norwegian Court. Consul Engel, on the occasion of this happy event in his family, has presented to the Maternity Hospital the interest of a bequest of ten thousand kroner. The poor of the town will to-day be entertained by the Consul at the poorhouse.

Further, we have just received the announcement that, in response to a special appeal, Consul Engel has given two thousand kroner for the thorough restoration of the magnificent organ in the Cross Church. A gala day in town and harbour!"

At midday a refreshing breeze had fanned the glowing streets; now only a capricious puff stirred the flags, and each time they blew out they formed a ma.s.s of colour over the town, and the whole length of the harbour; several ships were covered with flags from deck to masthead. A barque, the most gaily decorated of all, is hauled out to fire a salute, to begin the moment that the pair are united, and to continue until the bride's carriage draws up before Engel's house. Another salute is to be fired during the dinner.

The most perfect weather, over mountain and hill and sea and town! How cheerful the town looked in the sunshine! The small blocks of houses with their provincial decorations, surrounded by the pavement of cobble-stones, cleanly swept and warmed by the sunshine.

The shadows were very heavy; when any quiet pedestrian emerged from them into the white glare of the street, he had the same feeling as in old times the wick of a tallow candle must have had when it escaped from the snuffers again. The cats dozed in the sunshine, but with one eye open, for there were a hundred idlers about to-day. The gutters, generally the route for many a toy-boat, were now dry; the newspaper boys jumped backwards and forwards across them, as they went from one empty house to another. Everything was clean and charming and quiet.

Only in the streets by the quays the smell of decayed wood, salt herrings, train oil, and "such like," prevailed. There was work going on there too; festival at the masthead, toil on deck and down below. In the rest of the town most work was over by three o'clock.

A train of young people could be seen trudging down from "the mountain"

towards the marketplace, succeeded by groups of women, both old and young. They knew a little about the two families which were to be united, those good people on the mountain!

What a glorious day! The land breeze now and again sent "cat's-paws"

across the harbour, which lost themselves in the blue grey water out by the islands. The open sea beyond lay wide and peaceful.

And how lovely were the wood-clothed mountains and hillsides, in the full colours of both pines and leafy trees, with the gra.s.s below ready for its second mowing. The greens were deeper than those of spring and with less variety. On the road below the churchyard was a long train of pedestrians; those country folk who lived nearest the town, toiled in just at the last to get a glimpse of the show--the men in front, the women following. A fussy little steamer shoots out from among the islands, snorting and puffing--she is behind time; she is bringing people from the nearest town, and has a horn quartet on board.

In the sunshine, the mountain seemed to those approaching it from the sea, to rear itself from the water like an anthill, but the resemblance was spoiled as one came nearer, although its small houses still looked like linen and stockings put out to dry. Close by, it became a curious breeding place for human sea-birds. All the children of the upper cla.s.ses in the town looked at it with the greatest envy, especially on a day like this, for the flags excited their imagination.

Every now and then, heads were turned towards "The Estate." Every pane of gla.s.s in the great red-brick building shone in the sunlight, but no flag was hoisted. As late as half-past three, Consul Engel, smoking a cigar, went up to the top attic to see if the flag were hoisted; Emilie was just coming down the attic stairs; she was fully dressed, except that she still wore her _peignoir_. She coloured when she met her father.

"What are you doing up here, my child?"

"I was looking----" She slipped past him without saying for what. No flag on the tower! The Consul remained there smoking. If there had been a flag without the "Union" to-day it would have been most suitable.

From the time it was reported that Tora Holm was at "The Estate" with her child, which report was heard early as Monday morning, an avalanche hung on the mountain ready to overwhelm them. This was the cause of all the Consul's generosity; if any one but asked for more, he gave it.

He had had two sleepless nights! Was it true that Rendalen had sent a letter to the old Dean couched in most respectful terms, but in which he said that if this were "peace," it was once more shown that peace belonged to Satan, but that the fight was G.o.d's?

"What did they contemplate--a scandal?" the whole town was asking.

Tora's appearance with her child just now was in itself a sentence--she must have an undaunted conscience; something would certainly happen.

There was no answer to this fact: Tora Holm had dared to come here; Rendalen and Fru Rendalen believed in her--_all_ her friends believed in her.

All the incidents of Niel's bachelor life were recalled--that is to say, those which related to _that_ part of the country; as a general thing, people would say what a devil of a fellow Niels Furst was, and stroll away laughing. The laughter ceased now. In Tora's neighbourhood such stories took a different complexion. Some of them seemed absolutely repulsive.

And the father-in-law! His past also was brought up again. None of the stories dealt with daring seductions, unexpected, astounding conquests; no open scandal--Heaven forbid! but certain quiet intrigues were known of, often one or two at a time.

Expensive presents and small annuities had been heard of as well. They knew of children who pa.s.sed for his, and who were his living image. It all came up again now; even "indiscretions" of twenty years ago and more, were recalled. Such little provincial towns have pitiless memories.

It had been but a short time previously that every one rejoiced that Fru Engel's gift had been opposed by a similar one, so that the "indecency" up at the school might come to an end. Now, as the women flocked into the town (which they began to do as early as Sunday), and the juniors at once hurried up to "The Estate," or collected in groups in the streets, a remembrance of Fru Engel's beautiful funeral filled the minds of all. What the daughter was about to accomplish was, in reality, disrespectful to her mother's memory.

Emilie herself was the only one who did not know that Tora was there.

Furst had arrived on Sat.u.r.day morning, and had heard it at once, but he and her father believed that Tora had come to force herself upon Milla; they kept most careful watch that neither Tora herself, nor a letter or message, or indeed any sign from her, could come without being intercepted. The friends of the house had received their instructions, and beside they consisted entirely of members of the two families. The bridesmaids arrived in the town on Sunday--they were relatives, and, with hardly an exception, from a distance.

Milla knew nothing except that the other party had been defeated and ruined, there would be nothing now but peace. Her father had the firm intention of helping the school; it would work well enough if some of the ideas were abandoned. Milla felt especially grateful for this promise of her father. Why should not they all be friends together?

"That is what we shall be," Furst had a.s.sured her. The school party had made peace: old Dean Green was a proof of it. "Yes, old Dean Green was a proof of it," repeated Milla to herself, whenever she felt any doubt.

On Sunday she went to church and heard him, it did her so much good; and in the afternoon she went with her father to call on him. How kind he was! He exhorted her to be patient; we cannot alter the world, but we can set a good example; that was what her mother had done. Milla was deeply touched. "Ah! if only every one were good!"

Her father had never been so loving to her as now. His increasing kindness reminded her of the time when her mother was ill, and then the great amount of his charity; he could not have done her honour in a more delicate or beautiful way. Furst was always amusing, and his way of being so was so very superior. He told stories of the Court, and terribly malicious ones they were; Furst was so pleasant and clever, Milla felt that she was really fortunate--that is to say, except for a slight sense of want, a tiny sensation of mistrust--just so much as to oblige her, at the last moment, to go up to the top attic, to see if there were a flag on the tower. But there was nothing. Perhaps no one was at home! That would be the best thing for both parties. They could find each other another time.

Now to put on her wedding dress! If Tora could have seen it! Poor Tora!

But such things will happen when one is not careful. Emilie asked her maid to take care that the folds hung properly over her tournure. At the same moment Fru Wingaard came in with the bridal wreath.

Every one who came from the adjoining streets into the market-place, observed something red against the open door of the church, the outer one to the left. It was a red shirt, worn by a tall sailor. The church attendants tried to get him away, but in vain; all round were ladies who would willingly have occupied his place, but he answered that he had as good a right to stand there as any one else, which he undoubtedly had. He did not belong to the town, no one knew him, a tattoo mark on his hand showed that he had been at sea--indeed, he said so himself. He was in a timber ship now--she was a large vessel.

With this exception there were nothing but ladies, old and young, on the steps, down below, and in every direction, all who had not found room in the church. Every time the inner door opened, affording a glimpse of the interior, one saw, on both sides, right down to the door, nothing but ladies--nothing but bonnets, with flowers, feathers, and veils. A solitary uncovered masculine head in one of the rows of chairs showed up like a single late gooseberry or black currant on the branch in autumn. If the departed Herr Max could have looked up from the chancel where he lay, it would have been "a goodly sight" for his woman-loving eyes, especially as the younger ones were all in the front places--they had been most eager in securing them.

Almost all the parasols which were to be seen on the market-place were either on the steps, or round about them, a many-coloured moving shield-like roof under which endless stories and laughter went on.

Every one thought the donation to the Maternity Charity _too_ felicitous. That Engel, who had so much tact, could---- But to be sure that was because Fru Wingaard was the patroness--she had wheedled it out of him, the minx!