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 THE 
 
 HERITAGE OF THE KURTS
 
 • ffjeincinanifg 5nternationaI Xibrarg . 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE. 
 
 Crown 'ivo, in paper covers, ■zs. 6d., or cloth limp, ^s. 6d. 
 I. IN GOD'S WA Y. By Bjornstjerne Bjorn- 
 
 soN. Translated from the Norwegian by Elizabeth 
 
 Carmichael. 
 
 ■z. PIERRE AND JEAN. By Guy de Maupas- 
 sant. Translated from the French by Clara Bell. 
 
 3. THE CHIEF JUSTICE. By Karl Emil 
 
 Franzos. Translated from the German by Miles 
 Corbet. 
 
 4. WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT. 
 
 By Count Lyof Tolstoi. Translated from the 
 Russian by E. J. Dillon, Ph.D. 
 
 ^.FANTASY. By Matilde Serao. Translated 
 from the Italian by Henry Harland and Paul Sylvester. 
 
 6. FROTH. By Don Armando PalacioValdes. 
 
 Translated from the Spanish by Clara Bell. 
 
 7. FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. By Louis Cou- 
 
 I'ERUS. Translated from the Dutch by Clara Bell. 
 
 8. PEPITA JIMENEZ. Translated from the 
 
 Spanish of Juan Valera. 
 
 9. THE COMMODORE'S DAUGHTERS. By 
 
 Jonas Lie. Translated from the Norwegian by H. L. 
 Braskstad and Gertrude Hughes. 
 
 TO. THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. From 
 the Norwegian of Bjornstjerne Bjornson. 
 
 In preparation. 
 LOU. From the German of Baron v. Roberts. 
 
 DONA LUZ. From the Spanish of JuAN 
 Valera. 
 
 WITHOUT DOGMA. From the Polish of 
 H. Sienkiewicz. 
 
 Each Volume contains a specially written 
 Introduction by the Editor. 
 
 London: \V. HEINEMANN, 21 Bedford St., W.C.
 
 The Heritage of 
 The Kurts 
 
 BY 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN 
 LY 
 
 CECIL FAIRFAX 
 
 LONDON 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 
 1892 
 
 [Ail rights reserved]
 
 
 FOURTH EDITION 
 
 FIRST EDITION. August iSg2 
 SECOND EDITION. September iSg2 
 THIRD EDITION. October iSg2
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The greatest of Norwegian novelists was christened Bjorn- 
 stjerne MartiniusBjornson, but he has never used the second 
 of these names. He was born on the 8th of December 1832, 
 at Kvikne in Osterdalen, a parish of which his father had the 
 year before been appointed priest. According to a state- 
 ment in one of his own poems, "our race was once the 
 foremost in the land," but the family name was Ske in the 
 eighteenth century, and was changed to Bjornson by the 
 novelist's father; it does not seem certain that the Skes 
 were ever very illustrious or very prominent. Bjornstjerne 
 Bjornson was the eldest son of Peder Bjornson and Inger 
 Ehse Nordraak, who were married in 1831. In the little 
 story called Blakken (" The Dun "), the novelist has de- 
 scribed the solitary life which he led in the bleak parsonage 
 high up in a ravine of the hills. When he was six years old, 
 his father was transferred to Naesset, in the Romsdal, one 
 of the loveliest parishes in Norway, where the influences of 
 natural beauty and a full peasant society instantly began to 
 mould the child's poetic sensations. He describes how he
 
 vj INTRODUCTION. 
 
 would stand in the parsonage garden of a summer evening, 
 and watch the sunset colours on the hills opposite and on 
 the fjord below, until he would burst into tears with an 
 emotion to which he could give no name. 
 
 At the grammar school of Molde, to which he was sent in 
 his eleventh year, Bjornson was an active, tiresome, and 
 industrious boy, in whom, about four years later, a feeling 
 for literature was suddenly awakened by the reading of 
 Wergeland's poem, T/ie English Pilot. At seventeen he 
 was sent to a high school at Christiania, where the poet 
 A. O. Vinje was one of his school-fellows, and for two years 
 his close daily companion. The theories which this singular 
 young man already entertained with regard to the freshening 
 and " Norsking " of the Danish language as employed by 
 Norwegian writers, were not without their direct influence 
 on Bjornson's after- practice, although he never pushed these 
 views to Vinje's extreme. In 1852 Bjornson entered the 
 University of Christiania. Before this, however, he had 
 written, and had submitted to the management of the metro- 
 politan theatre, a drama called Valborg ; it was accepted, 
 and in consequence the author was admitted free to the 
 performances. By this unconscious education his taste be- 
 came so far refined, that when his own piece came up for 
 rehearsal he was disgusted with its imperfections, and with- 
 drew it. This, and two other dramas of his early student- 
 years, have never been printed. In 1854 he began to 
 support himself by journalism in the capital. His early 
 career was one of struggle, not only against privation and 
 disappointment, but against a paralysing conviction of his 
 own dulness and want of talent. At length, in his twenty- 
 fourth year, having attended a student celebration at Upsala 
 in Sweden, in the capacity of a newspaper correspondent,
 
 INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 and having been greatly roused by the enthusiasm of his 
 companions, he " resolved," as he tells us in one of his auto- 
 biographical sketches, " to become a poet." He wrote a 
 heroic drama in one act, Mellon Slagetie (" Between the 
 Battles "), in a fortnight, ands tarted oif, with the manuscript 
 in his pocket, to try his luck in Copenhagen. 
 
 The year 1857 was one of great hterary activity for Bjorn- 
 son. Melleni Slagene, though not accepted in Copenhagen, 
 was played with success at Christiania in October, and pub- 
 lished in book-form at Christmas of the same year. In 1856 
 the young author had become editor of a small illustrated 
 weekly, in which, after his return to Norway, he began to 
 produce a series of short prose stories. These were followed, 
 in the summer of 1857, by a novel, called after its heroine, 
 Synnove Solbakhen which came out in book-form in Sep- 
 tember, and is therefore Bjornson's earliest published work. 
 This is a tale of unprecedented charm and freshness, an 
 exceedingly naive study of peasant life in the Norwegian 
 mountains. Norse literature was, at the moment of this 
 publication^ suffering from an absolute dearth of new talent, 
 and this little novel, with all its faults of composition, struck 
 so pure and fresh a note, that it was received with delighted 
 enthusiasm in all parts of the country • four or five transla- 
 tions oi Synnove Solbakkeji, exist in the EngHsh language. 
 
 Bjornson was now suddenly grown famous, and the great 
 success of his novel led him to write a not less beautiful, but 
 peihaps a stronger, story in the same style, Arne, in 1858. 
 Of this also many English versions have been made. Mean- 
 while, in December 1857, at the invitation of Ole Bull, 
 Bjornson proceeded to Bergen to be "artistic manager" of 
 the theatre there ; he held this position for two years, com- 
 bining with it considerable journalistic activity, and begin-
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 ning to be appreciated as a singularly effective popular 
 lecturer. Soon after his arrival in Bergen he produced a 
 short tragedy, called Halte Hulda (" Limping Hulda "), 
 which he had written during his stay in Copenhagen. This 
 is the affecting story of a lame girl's hopeless passion for an 
 active and ambitious man. Bjornson's last busmess in 
 Bergen was to publish a volume of Smaastykker (" Miscel- 
 lanies "), consisting of tales and dramatic sketches, written 
 during the five previous years. Among the stories thus 
 published, one. En glad Gut (" A Happy Boy"), has been 
 regarded as Bjornson's most perfect essay in the line of 
 peasant-romance, and has be^n translated into almost every 
 European language. 
 
 In May i86o, abandoning Norway, Bjornson proceeded 
 with his family to Copenhagen ; securing from the Govern- 
 ment of his country at the close of the year a small travelling 
 stipend, he passed to Italy, where he remained, chiefly in 
 Rome, until May 1862. It was in Rome that he wrote the 
 tragedy of A'l?;?^ .Swr/-^, published in Copenhagen in 1861, 
 and performed at the Norse Theatre in Christiania later in 
 the same season. In this graceful saga-drama, the King 
 Sverre, who took an incidental part in Mellem S/agene, forms 
 the central figure ; but much of the interest gathers around 
 the bishop, Nicolaus, one of Bjornson's most skilful pieces 
 of figure-painting. The masterly trilogy called Sigurd 
 Sktnbe, a drama on a much broader scale than any of its 
 author's previous works, closes, in 1862, the series of Bjorn- 
 son's saga-plays. It was written in the Tyrol, during the 
 poet's leisurely return journey. In the spring of 1863 he was 
 once more in Norway, writing a tragedy on Mary Stuart in 
 Scotland^ which was published the following season. 
 
 The next ten years were not marked by any great events
 
 INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 in the life of the Norwegian poet. He produced in 1865 
 a very successful little social comedy, De Nygifte ("The 
 Newly Married Couple ") ; in 1868, another pastoral 
 novelette, Fiskerjenten ("The Fisher Maiden"); in 1870, a 
 collection of Digte og Sojtge (" Poems and Songs ") ; and in 
 the same year a sort of fragmentary epic of heroic Norse life, 
 very obscure in style, and difficult in language, with occa- 
 sional passages of singular beauty, called Arnljot Gelline. 
 
 Bjornson had now become, in the absence of Ibsen, un- 
 questionably the principal literary figure in Norway, and an 
 object of enthusiasm and hatred to rival parties. I may be, 
 perhaps, permitted to recall my own slight recollection of 
 him at this time. In the summer of 1872, I carried to 
 Bjornson a letter of introduction from Hans Christian 
 Andersen. I found him living in a small house in Munke- 
 damsveien, a long lane in one of the suburbs of Christiania. 
 In a pretty little room, with trcllised windows, a large and 
 even burly man, who was sitting astride a small sofa, rose 
 vehemently to receive me. His long limbs, his athletic 
 frame, and especially his remarkably forcible face, sur- 
 rounded by a mane of beautiful wavy brown hair, and illu- 
 minated by full blue eyes behind flashing spectacles, gave an 
 instant impression of the poet's physical vigour. He was 
 truculently cordial, and raised his ringing tones in civil con- 
 versation. Resuming his singular attitude astride the sofa, 
 he entered affably into a loud torrent of talk, lolling back, 
 shaking his great head, suddenly bringing himself up into a 
 sitting posture to shout out, with a palm pressed on either 
 knee, some question or statement. His full and finely 
 modulated voice, with his clear enunciation, greatly aided 
 his slightly terrified visitor in appreciating his remarks, but 
 he spoke with great rapidity, and it strained the attention of
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a foreigner to follow his somewhat florid volubility. It has 
 not been my privilege to see Mr. Bjornson save on that soli- 
 tary occasion twenty years ago, but the memory of his heroic 
 presence, abounding vitality, and cordial fierceness is as 
 vivid as though I had visited him yesterday. 
 
 A short tale, the last to be composed in his early peasant 
 manner, called Brude-Slaatten ("The Bridal March "), 1873, 
 was Bjornson's only contribution to fiction during these 
 years. In 1871 he had begun to undertake those lecturing 
 tours, which he afterwards extended to Sweden and to 
 America. These occupied a great part of his leisure, and 
 almost brought his literary production to a standstill, but 
 they were eminently successful. In 1874 he bought the 
 estate, above the town of Lillehammer, called Aulestad, in 
 Gausdal, which he still inhabits during the greater part of 
 the year. Of this house and of the wholesome existence of 
 its owner, Mr. H. L. Br^kstad gave a very pleasant account 
 in the Century Magazine for 1886. Aulestad is a modi- 
 fied farmhouse, surrounded by balconies and verandahs, 
 and painted bright white like a Swiss villa. Here the poet 
 takes his share in the life of the township — active, beneficent, 
 eccentric, a sort of Golden P^armer in this laughing valley 
 among the dark pine-plumaged mountains. His restless 
 temperament, however, forbids him to settle all the year 
 round in the pastoral serenity of Aulestad. He needs the 
 excitement of men and towns, and he has been a constant 
 partial exile from his country. 
 
 In 1878 he spent some time in Paris, and he stayed 
 through the autumn and winter of 1879 at Meiningen, as the 
 guest of the Grand Duke. In the latter year he was engaged 
 in a mysterious sort of dispute with the King of Sweden, 
 the details of which, as recounted by the newspapers
 
 INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 throughout Europe, were mainly fabulous, and the source 
 of great annoyance to the Norwegian poet. From 1882 until 
 very lately Bjornson resided for several months of each year 
 in Paris, but he has now once more become a regular resi- 
 dent of Norway. 
 
 To return to the chronicle of his literary productions. In 
 1875 Bjornson appeared as the author of two satirical 
 comedies, or social dramas, which curiously foreshadowed 
 the series of works in the same form which Ibsen was 
 already contemplating. The first of these, Redaktoreji (" The 
 Editor"), was a political pamphlet in four acts, severely 
 dealing with a certain type of smart and unscrupulous 
 " society " journalist. Bjornson was accused of intentionally 
 drawing the portrait of one of the leaders of the Christiania 
 Tory press, and his play was bitterly attacked. Two months 
 later, another social drama, En Fallit (" A Bankruptcy "), 
 followed, and enjoyed a great success on the boards ; it had 
 already been acted at Stockholm, in a Swedicih translation. 
 This has proved the most lastingly popular of all Bjornson's 
 plays, especially in Germany and Russia, where it is in the 
 repertory of every provincial theatre. It has been played in 
 London, but without success, and the taste of it, indeed, is 
 strictly German. It deals, in an interesting and modern 
 manner, with the ruin of a speculative house of business at 
 the approach of a crisis on the money market, and with the 
 ethical questions raised by the conduct of the persons mainly 
 involved. Another play of this period is Kongen ("The 
 King "), 1877, of a polemical character; the hero is a monarch 
 who chooses to abdicate in favour of a republic. This drama 
 was violently attacked in the Conservative press, being looked 
 upon as a manifestation of enmity to the national throne, and 
 a sign that the poet was being driven further and fuither
 
 xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 into opposition to the existing Sovereign of Sweden and 
 Norway. In a later edition Bjornson modified something, 
 and explained his position in a dignified apology. 
 
 When Bjornson, in this same year 1877, reappeared as a 
 novelist, a great change in his manner was discernible. In 
 Mag?ihild, the exquisite purity and simplicity of style which 
 marked his early peasant-novelettes had disappeared ; this 
 book was more real, perhaps, but it was more turbulent and 
 more experimental than the author's old mountain romances. 
 Bjornson had been touched by the " novel of experience," and 
 had been troubled by it. The book was a study of the effect 
 of an unsympathetic marriage on the character of an uncon 
 ventional woman. But it was not executed with a very sure 
 hand, nor was Kaptejn Mansana ("Captain Mansana") — 
 an episode of the Italian war, published in 1879 — entirely 
 worthy of Bjornson's reputation. He returned once more 
 to prose drama, and in Leonarda, 1879, an attack on the 
 bigotry and conventionality of the Norwegian society of to- 
 day, produced a dramatic expeiiment which obviously owed 
 something of its form to Ibsen's then recent A DoWs House. 
 This was not in all respects a successfully constructed piece, 
 but it contains one delightful character, the Giandmother, 
 who, in the breadth of thought of her youngest relations, 
 breathes once more the intellectual atmosphere of her own 
 emancipated girlhood. Another curious and speculative 
 d'ama of this same year was Del Ny System ("The New 
 System," or " Le Nouveau Jeu," perhaps), a satirical comedy 
 of business-Ufe, which in some respects recalls Ibsen's Pillars 
 of Society. Two other plays, both of 1883, closed for the 
 present the roll of Bjornson's dramatic writings. Of these 
 the first. En Hanske ("A Gauntlet"), is a bold attempt to 
 solve one of the oldest problems of human ethics — why it is,
 
 INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 namely, that though man and woman bo'.h may sin, it is 
 woman only who must suffer in the eyes of the world. 
 Bjornson has the courage to suggest that purity of pre- 
 marital hfe should be as rigorously demanded of a bridegroom 
 as of a bride, and his heroine, Svava, breaks off her engage- 
 ment with the hero because the gauntlet she has thrown 
 down in this respect cannot be picked up and fought for. 
 Whatever may be thought of this central idea, there is no 
 question that En Hanske is one of the cleverest of Bjornson's 
 dramas, if it be not, indeed, that in which he shows most 
 dramatic instinct and the liveliest play of dialogue. Over 
 ^vne (" Out of Reach ") is a singular dramatic fragment, 
 dealing with hfe in the extreme north of Norway, where the 
 solitude and the extraordinary phenonema of Nature tend to 
 the encouragement of mystical and pietistic habits of thought. 
 There is a picturesque charm about this curious litde play, 
 which is nevertheless marred by its obscurity. 
 
 During the last nine years, greatly occupied as he has 
 been by political and social problems in actual life, Bjornson 
 has published but little. He has, however, written two 
 long novels, the most important on which he has ever been 
 engaged. Of these, one is the book which is here for the 
 first tisiie presented to the English public ; it was pubhshed 
 in 1884, and its name in the original is Det flager i Byeti 
 ogpaa Havnen (" Flags are Flying in Town and Harbour "), 
 a title for which we have ventured to substitute, as more 
 directly descriptive. The Heritage of the Kiirts. The other 
 novel is Paa Giids Veje ("In God's Way"), 1889, a trans- 
 lation of which formed the opening volume of the present 
 series. The profound originality and freshness of that 
 remarkable book were widely appreciated in this country, 
 and we may perhaps record the curious fact that the extra-
 
 xiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ordinary success of the book in England, in 1890, revived 
 and vastly encouraged the sale of the original in Scandinavia, 
 It is hoped that T/ie Heritage of the Kurts, which is in many 
 ways a closely parallel production, may enjoy no less warm 
 a welcome from its English readers. Translator, editor, 
 and publisher alike desire to express their debt to Mr. C. 
 F. Keary, whose knowledge of Norwegian matters is so 
 widely recognised, for the help he has given in revising the 
 translation throughout, and in particular for his advice 
 in regard to the diction of the first section of the book, 
 which, in the original, is an extremely clever pastiche of 
 early eighteenth-century Danish. 
 
 Edmund Gosse.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I.— FROM AN OLD MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 CHAP. '"AGE 
 
 I. "THE estate" and THOSE WHO LIVED THERE . . 3 
 
 II. WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS I3 
 
 11.— JOHN KURT. 
 
 I. LONELINESS 25 
 
 11. A GENIUS 29 
 
 III. man's BREAST IS LIKE THE OCEAN 34 
 
 IV. SAILS IN SIGHT 37 
 
 V. HOME LIFE 47 
 
 VI. FIRST RESULTS, AND THOSE THAT FOLLOWED ... 54 
 
 III.— A LECTURE. 
 
 I. DETHRONED , , . . 63 
 
 II. ON THE MOUNTAIN = .70 
 
 in. THE CHILD 80 
 
 IV. THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN 88 
 
 V. THE LECTLKE 99
 
 xvi CONTENTS. 
 
 lY.—TIIE STAFF. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. A GREAT LF.CTURE AXD A LITTLE TOWN . . . • I25 
 
 II. THE STAFF 144 
 
 III. THE SOCIETY . 173 
 
 IV. ON THE STEPS , . 182 
 
 v.— THE HUNT. 
 
 I. THE HUNT •«...,,,,, igg 
 
 II. IN THE DOVECOTE 212 
 
 III. SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS 2l5 
 
 IV, THE HUNT 224 
 
 VI.— WHAT FIDELITY WILL SAY. 
 
 I. HAPPINESS , . 23s 
 
 IL A MISFORTUNE 242 
 
 III. PEACE-MAKING WITHIN, PROPOSALS OF PEACE WITHOUT. 248 
 
 'V- WAR 262 
 
 YU.—THE FIGHT ITSELF. 
 
 I. IN BOTH CAMPS 273 
 
 11. A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR . , . . 28J
 
 I 
 
 FROM AN OLD MANUSCRIPT
 
 FROM AN OLD MANUSCRIPT 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "the estate" and those who lived there. 
 
 " The Estate " had probably been acquired by the strong 
 hand, as indeed most domains have been in all countries 
 and at all times ; but what proportion forced marriages and 
 fair bargains bore to actual guile, fraud, and such base 
 means, we can no longer determine. 
 
 Two hundred years ago it was an immense possession, the 
 home farm stood then as now on the woody mountain slopes 
 overlooking the town, the whole of which can be seen from 
 '.here ; both the old town on this side of the harbour, and 
 the new one out by the point. This point shelters the 
 harbour from the sea, but is not itself absolutely exposed to 
 it, for islands and skerries lie beyond it, and between them 
 the two entrances, the North and West Sounds. AU this is 
 to be seen from " The Estate," and far out to sea as well. 
 
 Farther away to the right is the river between whose 
 clayey banks the foaming mass pours down into the harbour. 
 At one time this river and all the works at its mouth be- 
 longed to "The Estate," as well as the site of the town, the 
 islands, and the coast on either side ; and farther on, the 
 lower lands and woods down to the channel of the river. 
 Such was " The Estate " two hundred years ago. 
 
 Its principal building is a large brick house from which 
 rises a squat clumsy tower ; it has a long wing on the right 
 hand, but curiously enough none on the left ; behind are a
 
 4 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 number of old stone buildings serving as stables, cow-houses, 
 and the like, besides servants' quarters. 
 
 The great stairway up to the house, a perfect mountain of 
 stone slabs, for it is of immense size, is of semicircular form, 
 having steps round the whole circuit. From it a noble 
 avenue leads down to the town market-place, and on each 
 side of it runs a stone park-wall which almost reaches as far 
 as the market ; on the other sides of both the walls lies the 
 garden, which is cut in two by the avenue. Open fields lie 
 on both sides and likewise between the gardens and the 
 town. 
 
 Above the houses, out towards the mountain, is a wood 
 of deciduous trees ; although the fir-trees have again begun 
 their silent advance against them, for at one time they had 
 the hill to themselves. 
 
 Who laid out these pleasure-grounds, who built this 
 enormous mansion? you say to yourself on first seeing the 
 house and gardens of " The Estate." 
 
 It was more than two hundred years ago, about 1660, that 
 a German skipper, who called himself Kurt (spelt at that 
 time Curt), first brought his vessel into the harbour in order 
 to have her re-rigged and painted, most probably to pre- 
 vent her from bemg recognised. We now know that he 
 had then long been exiled from his native country on account 
 of some deed of violence which he had committed. He was 
 of a princely German family which still bears an honoured 
 name which does not require to be mentioned here — he was 
 known only by his Christian name of Curt. 
 
 He had not been there long before he began to pay his 
 court to the daughter and heir of Claus Mathiasson, the 
 owner of " The Estate," paying no heed to what the neigh- 
 bours thought of it. 
 
 " It was the noble maid Ingeborg Clausdotter." . . . From 
 this point I follow verbatim a manuscript description per- 
 taining to the town, and more especially to " The Estate," 
 which was written at the beginning of the last century by an 
 old parish clerk and choir-master of Saint Mary in that 
 place. . . . 
 
 She would hide herself away up in the Cock Loft, down 
 in the Cellar, in Byre or stable ; she would fly you to 
 wood or field whenever the svva<.'gering foreigner, skipper 
 Curt, came a Wooing, for then he was commonly in liquor
 
 "THE ESTATE." 5 
 
 Worshipful Master Claus Mathiasson might bring him Ale 
 from his cellar, and set before him such things as he desired ; 
 the next moment had Curt half slain him because Master 
 Claus could not bring his fair daughter to speak with him ; 
 and moreover he drove away every living person from the 
 homestead. He swore also to cut down any man who 
 should dare to wish to take her to wife : he would wring his 
 neck, said he, and all his belongings, and hers as well if she 
 should ever belong to another. 
 
 And there was Hans Fiirst in the Market Place hard by 
 the Church of St. Mary. When it was said that he too was 
 a Wooer, went Curt to him on Good Fiiday morning as Hans 
 still lay abed, and beat him so sore with a stout cudgel that 
 for long after he was but broken bones. Hans Fiirst was 
 afraid to bide in the town whenever skipper Curt came in with 
 his Ships, which from that time happened often enough ; and it 
 fell in likewise with the Bailiff, Master Bernhard von Kliivver, 
 who would fain have brought him to reason. Curt defied 
 him and hauled his ships before the Bailiff's house ; two 
 ships he had then, and Cannon and his Company, and 
 the Bailiff dared no more go out alone, and did not dare 
 to discharge his office, but departed, nor did he return. 
 So that full a year passed ere his office was again filled ; 
 when it was, 'twas a German who got it who was of a Mind 
 with Curt in all things ; and the old Bailiff, he obtained 
 office in another place. 
 
 'Twas commonly spoken of Curt that he had stole his 
 first ship in the North Sea ; later he had two ships, and folk 
 held it for certain that the second was stok n also, but his 
 people were silent concerning it, and naught was done in 
 the Matter. Now it was in the following way that he got 
 the maid. There came a Clerk from his Excellence the 
 Stadtholder Ulrich, Frederick Giildenlove, with Commands 
 from the High and Mighty Prince, King Frederick 3rd, now 
 of blessed memory, to the worshipful Claus Mathiassdn of 
 " The Estate," and to the good men and true of the Town, 
 Counsellors, and Burgesses, that they must so deal for 
 skipper Curt who was of a noble German Family, that he 
 should have the high-born Maid Ingeborg Clausdotter to 
 wife, promising them his royal favour and especial grace, 
 which skipper Curt without hesitation agreed to ; so the 
 King's Will was done. The Clerk was come in Soren
 
 6 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Rasmussen's sloop from Oslo ; he also was a German, and 
 spoke Danish but ill ; he demanded much service, and that 
 he got, for he was lodged at the Council House, and was 
 bidden, when the wedding should be over, to condescend to 
 put up with the same at the houses of sundry of the burgesses. 
 
 The wedding was celebrated with grandeur, but many a 
 tear shed Mistress Ingeborg as did Claus Mathiasson, who 
 knew that now his days of happiness were past. 
 
 But it so chanced that at the wedding. Master Curt, 
 being in liquor, fell upon the clerk with thrust and blow 
 and Drove him from the board, for he swore he was not fit 
 to sit at meat with the quality and their women folk, for he 
 vi'as no clerk of the Stadtholder, but a cursed vagabond 
 Barber who had been a wood cutter to his brother-in-law in 
 Pommerania. So the barber fled over to the point and 
 thence to the North Holm, from there he hailed a passing 
 ship and was taken on board of her. 
 
 Therewith ended the wedding feast, but this mattered 
 little to Curt, for he had won his bride. 
 
 Now this is how it fell out ; skipper Curt had been to 
 Oslo and there had met a Holsteiner, Georg von Bregent- 
 vedt ; the same was a captain and gave the Stadtholder aid 
 in warlike enterprise, but Georg von Bregentvedt and Curt 
 had been known to each other in Germany, and this Georg 
 was a rare knave, full of merry conceits, and he helped Curt 
 with this trick, but they got the barber to bring it to pass. 
 
 Old Claus Mathiasson went straightway to Copenhagen 
 to make complaint before the king, and three times had 
 he audience^ and each time was the king Mightily en- 
 raged, but may well have forgotten it again by reason of 
 other matters, for Curt had countrymen at Court. In the 
 meantime was the money spent with which Claus Mathi- 
 asson had provided himself, and Curt had seized "The 
 Estate," and refused to send him more, likewise he threat- 
 ened all those who would have been true to him ; and as 
 Claus Mathiasson at the same time got a letter from his 
 daughter, sent secretly by the skipper of a sloop, saying 
 that she was now with child, but that Curt went after other 
 women on " The Estate," and in the town ; so thought Claus 
 Mathiasson that no good could come from his going home. 
 And no man asked for him from that time. Claus Mathi- 
 asson was of Danish blood, and a good man was he.
 
 "THE ESTATE*' f 
 
 Now " The Estate " at this time was a vast place of much 
 grandeur, and with great l)elongings ; to wit, the ownership 
 of leagues of land up both sides of the River, for the forests 
 and all the farms then belonged to " The Estate." And 
 large tile works had Curt established on the river Bank, and 
 brought many Hollanders there; also later he had ship- 
 building, which thing brought great gain to the Town ; he 
 made also a marvellous clever saw pit, the like of which had 
 never been seen before, also he voyaged to see the king, 
 the most mighty Prince, and very good Lord, King Chris- 
 tian 5th, now of blessed memory, for by the help of his 
 powerful and noble countrymen, he had hope to come by 
 royal Grace and Favour, and he had at divers times 
 audience, and pleased the King with his great strength and 
 by his Comely person. Then, said he to the King, in all 
 humility, that it was a bygone Custom that when the King 
 of His grace came to those parts he should take lodging on 
 " The Estate." Two kings had lain there, and King Christian 
 4th of Blessed memory, even twice ; and now in all humility 
 he prayed for the same Favour. And the king did not deny 
 it him. But Curt's purpose therein was to again receive all 
 those privileges which he had forfeited in his Fatherland. 
 
 And he returned home, and found with his courtly fashions 
 that the old House on " The Estate," albeit that it was a fine 
 house in every way, large and costly, must be pulled down, 
 and a Castle built to honour the king when he should come 
 withal; so forthwith he fell to work. But then he took a 
 liking to Hans Fiirst's house for a dwelling Place, the one, 
 namely, hard by St. Mary's in the Market Place, while the 
 new castle was buildir.g ; so he drove the aforesaid Hans 
 from it till such time as the Castle should be Roofed. 
 
 It was brought about in this manner: Curt forbade the 
 sailors, craftsmen, and fishers to buy so much as a measure 
 of Ale, a dram of Spirits, or an Ell of cloth. For the lewd 
 mariners and their kinsfolk are not like landsfolk, they 
 worship those who rule over them, for they and their forebears 
 have let themselves be treated like dogs on sea and land ; they 
 are ill at ease if they are not ordered hither and thither, sworn 
 at and beaten, and they join in their skipper's dissolute life. 
 But as well Curt allowed them free land on the mountain on 
 all sides, as many as there was room for, and besides gave 
 thern wood at small cost for their buildings, so that now
 
 8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 there is almost a town on the mountain which can be seen 
 from afar, as is known to every ship which comes in. Atop 
 of all, the Pilots have built themselves a Look Out. 
 
 It can be safely said that without the support of these men 
 Curt and his descendants could never have ruled and 
 roystered as they have done to this day; nay, the more 
 masterful their ways, the more they rose in the eyes of these 
 Men, for that is the manner of them. 
 
 For his lawless ways then Curt in all his life never made 
 any reparation. People still repeat the words he was wont 
 to use when any man asked such of him. " Thou shalt get 
 
 thy pay fiom , thou cursed Peasant," he would say 
 
 in his German fashion, for he never spoke our tongue right, 
 and " Peasant " he would call any man he was wroth with ; 
 for in his Country the peasant is held in contempt, nay, 
 almost as a brute beast; he may own neither house nor 
 land, but must work for his lord, both he and his. Death 
 alone can release hini. Nay, 'tis even so likewise in 
 Denmark. 
 
 But as respecting the aforesaid Hans Fiirst, as he had 
 naught else but his trade he must needs go over to the 
 other side of the Market Place to Siegfried Brandenburg's 
 old House on the left ; for he had two, and there he abode 
 till Curt returned to his Castle. 
 
 Curt did not build it all as it now stands ; neither the long 
 wing on the right, nor the great outbuildings ; neither did he 
 build the garden wall which is on both sides, for that was 
 done by his son. But the great House with the steps and 
 the Tower, that was built by him ; and the road between the 
 two walls, that was done by Master Curt, for before there 
 was only a path and that did not go the same way, but 
 outside the garden to the Right, as may be seen to this day ; 
 also the trees on both sides of the road were planted by 
 Curt himself, every one of them, for he had a lucky hand 
 in that way which he well knew, for the larger part of the 
 garden which is now on both sides was planted by him ; and 
 he brought hither many new and costly Trees, Plants, and 
 flowers from Holland which greatly joyed his half crazy wife 
 whenever she was allowed a little liberty, for she loved 
 flowers well. 
 
 The inside of the Castle for the most part is not as Curt 
 left it, for what he did was undone of his Son Master Adler,
 
 "THE ESTATE." 9 
 
 for thus he was called after the great Sea Hero, Cort Adler. 
 For tliat was a jest of Curt to call his son Adler, since he 
 had called himself Curt, for thus the Admiral's name was 
 turned end for end. 
 
 The Royal Bed and other furniture in the king's Chamber 
 which are now to be seen are not Curt's either. Those 
 which he had bought now stand in another Chamber out 
 of the passage to the left. In that bed slept Master Adler 
 himself. That remains, and the furniture. But for the king's 
 Chamber Master Adler brought all new from Holland what 
 time he himself went there from Copenhagen with his ships. 
 It was at that time also that he bought the hangings which 
 are now in the King's Chamber by the side of his sleeping- 
 room, and also he bought the great Carosse, whereof more 
 anon. But, on the other hand, the pictures in gilded frames 
 all belong to Curt's time. Those in the Knights' Hall are 
 copied from pictures in his father's Castle, and represent his 
 ancestors. 
 
 I had almost forgot to relate about the tower which never 
 was finished and the reason thereof. The Man who first 
 directed the Building was a master builder from Lubeck. 
 But he wearied there, not getting his pay, and so went 
 home. Master Curt went after him in a swift sailing ship 
 belonging to a Dane, which just then lay in harbour, but he 
 did not come nigh him. The second builder was from 
 Holstein, or the parts adjacent thereto. Curt had at that 
 time with him a wench of rare beauty. She was the wife of 
 a Flemish skipper whom Curt had enticed to come to him, 
 and as he would not give her up, the skipper was fain to 
 depart. Now the master builder fell in love with her, and 
 she with him, and Master Curt sorely maltreated them, and 
 had them stript and driven down the Market Place. They 
 got away at last in a boat ; the builder was brought to a 
 sorry pass ; 1 know not what further became of them. 
 
 After that Curt gave up the Tower, which indeed was very 
 hard to build ; and as it was bruited about that the king was 
 like to come that summer, he had a wide roof set over it 
 and covered it with tiles as is commonly done, and so it 
 stands, for no one has touched it since then. Now Curt 
 had put himself to great cost for the honour of seeing the 
 king under his Roof. At this time *' The Estate " was still 
 all one, and the high banks on each side of the river and all
 
 10 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 round the valley as far as might be seen were covered with 
 fir woods, and the same on the Islands. That is all different 
 since the merchants took the fir-woods in pledge, but this 
 giving in pledge had begun in Curt's time. 
 
 And now I must relate to you the Rest of Curt's life, 
 firstly that his wife had been for a long time half silly. She 
 was a fair woman to look on, but she could never abide him, 
 so she remained shut up. The marks are still to be seen 
 in the chamber along to the left, which her feet have left by 
 the door, where she vainly sought to get out, and likewise 
 can be seen the marks of the iron bars before the window, 
 which Curt put there after the time when she sprang out 
 into the garden, sorely wounding herself thereby. At the 
 time when the Castle stood open, after Curt was dead, and 
 his sons were abroad, we could see what she had written all 
 round the walls. This writing had never been known of by 
 Curt, or by those who minded the estate while his sons 
 were still young, or during their absence, but the sons had it 
 washed off. 'Twas thus I saw it when first I came as a student 
 to the Town. For the most part it was verses from the 
 Psalter, but plaints as well, and other quaint conceits which 
 touched me by their simplicity. Thus of a cloud-berry 
 which had been frozen. That is the tenderest sight in 
 Nature, she wrote, and verily since then how often I have 
 thought of it, for especially by the Road side in frost and 
 thaw how true it is. 
 
 But now I must tell of what once happened while she was 
 well and sat at meat with Sieur van Geelmuyden, the especial 
 friend of Master Curt, and a merry man. Suddenly her mad- 
 ness came upon her again as she sat at board, and flinging her 
 knife at Curt, she cried that that very day had she been told 
 that Curt had a hundred Children about in the town. Then 
 remarked Van Geelmuyden pithily, " Noble Ingeborg Curt, 
 no one should believe more than half of what malicious folk 
 say." Now Curt and all his guests laughed beyond measure 
 at this, and, for the sake of the saying. Master Curt gave Van 
 Geelmuyden, to whom, moreover, he ever after set great 
 fidtice, the house at Bommen ; the same may still be seen 
 there, it is that one where the second Story stands well-nigh 
 two ells out beyond the first, and which is hard by that 
 which was gotten by the Bailiff. 
 
 The House still bears witness to \\\t piquante saying called
 
 "THE ESTATE.'* II 
 
 a bon-mot, which word the people have turned into Bommen, 
 which name the whole street bears at this day. 
 
 Never was there dung moved up at "The Estate" in the 
 Spring time, nor the Midden emptied, but that the bodies of 
 children were found therein, for Master Curt led a lusty life, 
 both withhismaid-servantsandotherswhomhecausedtocome 
 up there. When the now departed Bishop of Christiansand, 
 the worshipful Magistei Jersin, was to make a visitation in 
 the Town, some short space before Curt's death, and Curt 
 heard thereof, he begged that he might have the honour of 
 housing and feasting him while he abode here, which thing 
 the Bishop in no wise refused. So Curt went forth to meet 
 him with one of his ships which chanced to be in port, and 
 took with him the Parson, the town Council, and the king's 
 trusty servants, and a goodly company of burgesses, and 
 prepared a noble feast on board of the ship for the Bishop, 
 whom they fetched from the house of a Parson of those 
 parts, and he also, and the others remained of the company. 
 And they all came on shore in such condition as was a sight 
 to behold ; Curt took the Bishop for his share, and when 
 they were come to the steps up to the house and were about 
 to mount them, the Bishop turned round and said, so that 
 all might hear, that those were the finest steps he had ever 
 seen in the whole Country Side. Then answered Curt, 
 " These Steps, your Grace, are singular in another manner, 
 for more maids have gone up them than have ever gone 
 down." He said this in his German tongue, but that was the 
 meaning of it. I had it from one who was a lad at the time 
 and was standing there on the steps with the Welcome Cup 
 for Master Curt, of which the Bishop drank and handed it to 
 him, but he who stood on the steps was in after days 
 Counsellor Niels Ingebrechtson, who at that time was clerk 
 to Curt. It was he who related this. 
 
 And now I must to Curt's death, for it was in this manner 
 that it fell out. There came a peasant with wife and daugh- 
 ter to the town, and although there was great gathering of 
 peasants at that time, no man had seen any of such fine 
 presence as these, and this thing was spoken of at a banquet 
 which was held at the Castle, and specially was praise given 
 to the daughter, and so it fell next day that the peasant with 
 wife and daughter were commanded by Curt to come up to 
 the Castle. There they were treated like the grandest folk
 
 12 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 and were shown all the rooms in the House, but the end of all 
 this was that several of Curt's people came m to them and 
 the maid was separated from her father and carried away by 
 force ; full of wrath was she and implored her father to ask 
 for a large recompense. He did so, but Curt would have 
 nothing to do with it. So then came the father with his 
 complaint to the King's Bailiff, who counselled him to take 
 things as he found them, for no man had ever yet got recom- 
 pense of Curt, for all those in authority were on his side, both 
 of church, and army, and worthies, and Patrons at Court, unto 
 all which might be added that Curt could safely depend on 
 the people of the lower sort here in the Town. But the 
 peasant went up by himself to Curt, and in the court-yard 
 behind the stable between it and the Byre he found him and 
 there again he asked for compensation. " Get thy compen- 
 sation from , thou cursed Peasant," answered Curt, 
 
 for that was ever what he answered. Then the peasant 
 seized Master Curt and held him where desired. But he 
 took his compensation with a thrust of his knife. There was 
 no one there in the Court Yard but a iQVf women, and an 
 old groom who stood by and saw it. Curt was flung down 
 upon the dung heap and there his life passed from him, 
 where the bodies of his children had lain before him. 
 
 Hardly could folk credit the news of it, but came up to see. 
 Never before had Curt given back before any man, and now 
 he had been slain like a helpless child. At last it was 
 noised about that the Evil One had been there, and had 
 taken Curt's punishment on himself, and, what indeed some- 
 what confirmed this was, that from that day the peasant 
 could never be found, and not even his name ' was known, 
 and he himself seemed unknown to the other peasants who 
 were in the town, but these clowns know how to be silent, so 
 that there is nothing certain in the matter. 
 
 But whoever it was, this thing is certain, that it was from 
 llie hand of Almighty God, for without his Will there falls 
 not a sparrow to the ground. His ways have been brought 
 to pass by other hands, in order that this great sinner should 
 end his days upon a dung heap. 
 
 May God's name be praised eternally. Ameu.
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 
 
 Curt's sons were at this time at Copenhagen, under the 
 charge of Magister Owe Gude, with him they also travelled 
 at a later time and made an especial long sojourn with Curt's 
 noble kinsmen. Adler came home at length to take posses- 
 sion of his lands, but Max remained abioad and studied 
 for the priesthood, for he had a marvellous gift of speech. 
 
 Master Adler was but rarely seen in the Town, and 
 lie never went there in any other fashion than borne in a 
 J>or/e chaise by servants in fine liveries. And it was the 
 same at the Castle, there one serving man stood in the way 
 of the other, and all were dressed as though for a feast in 
 some prince's Hall. Master Adler lived alone and held no 
 intercourse with the worthy burgesses in the Town, as had 
 never been the way before his time. Now by degrees Master 
 Adler waxed mighty fat and had many peevish ways and 
 tricks ; thus he spoke with no man, but listened to everything. 
 
 When he had been here a few years and all his affairs 
 were well ordered by the hand of Torbiorn Christoffer- 
 sen. Master Adler journeyed to Copenhagen, for now 
 was Christian V. of blessed memory no more; but our 
 good Lord and Prince, the most mighty and gracious King 
 Frederick IV. (whom may God sustain and adorn with 
 all virtues) had now become our King. And Master Adler 
 went on his knee before him, with great difficulty, and 
 prayed the King to fulfil the gracious pledge given by his 
 Father, of blessed Memory, to the Elder Curt now departed, 
 and that he would condescend to come to the Town, and 
 be under his humble roof, such time as he first came to 
 Norway, where all men hoped for his coming. Now the 
 King v/ot well the design hid under this request, namely, 
 that Master Adler should obtain those titles of nobility 
 which his father had lost in his youth. This the King was 
 graciously pleased to listen to. 
 
 Thereupon Master Adler went to Holland, for he 
 deemed not one of the preparations good enough for him, 
 which his lather had made. From there he came back 
 with the great Carosse.,\s\\\c\\ was then seen here for the
 
 14 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 first time. The War Commissary, Master Synnestwedt, 
 thought it not fitting for Master Adler to drive in a 
 Carosse, for he was no Person of high rank^ and com- 
 plaint was made of the matter. Now in this fashion did 
 it first become known from Copenhagen that Curt had been 
 of noble birth ; from that time forward he was never seen 
 without Out-riders and Attendants, besides the Coachman, 
 and two Servants behind. Wherefore he must have also five 
 horses on account of the Hills. But the townsfolk held it 
 an honour to them that their lord had such great privileges. 
 
 But while he was at Copenhagen it had come to Master 
 Adler's knowledge that in the Palace where the King 
 then abode, neither the King's servants nor attendants 
 lay under the same roof with Him, as might have been 
 expected, but only the king and his Family. On the 
 contrary, the King's attendants, and the serving men 
 and women lived in a wing by themselves, and it was for 
 this reason that Master Adler had the long right wing 
 added to the New house, as may still be seen, and this 
 should be used by the King's attendants and servants as 
 well as by Master Adler himself, and by his servants, when 
 the King should come. But Torbiorn Christofifersen, his 
 trusty steward, refused downright to add a wing on the left 
 hand, and threatened to go, and for this reason it is that 
 the right wing stands alone; neither did Master Adler 
 attempt to finish the Tower, for already many mortgages had 
 been given on " The Estate," by reason of all this display, 
 and Torbiorn Christofifersen could in no wise bring both 
 ends to meet ; so some of the heaviest mortgages had to go 
 at a great loss, and, in the same way, the portions of ground, 
 let to certain men in the Town, were sold to any who could 
 free themselves. It was in this manner that the parcelling 
 of " The Estate " began. 
 
 Master Adler's younger brother. Parson Max, was a 
 knowing man in all matters of business, and he supported 
 Torbiorn Christofifersen. And now that I take on me to 
 draw a picture of Parson Max, God forbid that I should 
 bear malice against a dead man who has done me harm in 
 many ways, for it was in this self-same year that I became 
 the unworthy Parish Clerk and Choir Master of the Church 
 of St. Mary in this Town. I will not fill this costly paper 
 by telling of the strife which was between us, concerning
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 15 
 
 the vessel which was bought at the Public sale, after 
 Master Curt's death, and which came to me by inheritance ; 
 or again with the dispute which arose when I was to read 
 the sermon from Dr. Martin's Book, in Parson Max's stead, 
 he being that day unfit through Hquor. Up comes Master 
 Max into the Pulpit and flings me down. All this I will 
 keep concealed now that he is under ground ; so it is not 
 for that that I have noted down the Truth about him ; but 
 in order that those who come after may see how wonderful 
 have been the ways of the Lord in dealing with this Family, 
 and also that it shall remain plain to be seen how this 
 Town, more than others, must be under God's Protection, 
 who has so singularly cared for it, even to the overthrowing 
 of its Tormentors. 
 
 From the moment that Parson Max came, he played the 
 Master and bully, first towards his brother and " The Estate," 
 and then over the whole place. He was worse than his 
 father Curt, inasmuch as he was learned, and could with great 
 prudence, and skill, twist and turn both people, and things. 
 He was also a mighty lunged man in the Pulpit. The time 
 when the terrible mishap befell, namely, that St. Mary's 
 Church was burnt down, being struck by lightning from 
 Heaven, an admonition to us all, as is related in another 
 place in my Man?i Scripiiim — that time I say, Parson Max 
 preached every Sunday through the summer, from a hillock, 
 and from thence was heard all over the Town ; many people 
 lying off in their boats in the harbour heard him, likewise 
 from the windows away on the Point, but not the words ; 
 nay, a skipper told me himself how, as his ship was being 
 towed up the North Channel, they could all hear a screaming 
 like that of a Woman in Labour, nor could they tell what it 
 might be. For at a great distance a man's voice sounds like 
 that of a woman. So truly this may be said in praise of 
 Parson Max, that he wrought a very moving Fear on all who 
 went to Church in his day, and he would in no wise allow that 
 any should stay away, for he asked for them from the Pulpit, 
 or sought them at their homes. Wherefore the Church has 
 never been so well frequented as then. The lower people 
 held wonderfully to him as before to his father ; for he often 
 condescended to come to their weddings and Buryings, and 
 tasted their ale, and further gave them useful counsel in 
 regard to all these, for he was of great understanding, and
 
 i6 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 beside knew them all by name, men and women. By degrees 
 he got the whole Town under his hand, so that nothing was 
 done in those days, in house or out, but the Parson must have 
 an account of it, neither might any bake or brew unless the 
 Parson gained by it. If the poor had nothing else to give there 
 was always Fish. No one, high or low, dare give his daughter 
 in Marriage, or in any other manner alter his Position, without 
 Master Max's counsel in the matter being heard. And if 
 rich gifts, and other private contributions, were there to help, 
 men could get from Parson Max, what were otherwise impos- 
 sible. I know this well, for I relate what I know, and in no 
 wise that which I do not know. If any went against his 
 will, him he would persecute and harm by day and night, 
 both he and his. This he did by means of those in autho- 
 rity, both dignitaries and those of the army, by his friends 
 and his friends' friends, and his hand could even reach to 
 Copenhagen.* But at times good befell the Town by all this, 
 for no one at that time went to law, but each man must bring 
 his case to the Parson, who settled it for him. In the same 
 way when the new Church of St. Mary was to be built, that 
 one which men commonly called the Cross Church, every- 
 thing abode in his hands, so that in truth he was the Master 
 Builder thereof; whereby that noble work is an honour to 
 the town, and an everlasting Memorial to him. It was 
 terrible what money it cost, and it all went to his brother, 
 for " The Estate " furnished both stone and wood, and all the 
 rest by way of trade. But Parson Max collected the money, 
 and this he did in such a way as had the place been occiiperit 
 by an Enemy and been burnt to the ground. For myselt 
 alone, when I begin to reckon what I had to pay, I cannot 
 
 * As with Carl Brandenburg, on the Market Place. He had a 
 daughter Christina, who was of a proud mind, but very fair. When 
 Master Max's first wife died he straightway aslced to have Christina in 
 marriage, but she would not, and her father humoured her, albeit he 
 was afraid. And at once Carl was charged of dealing in contraband 
 wares, then for giving false weights and measures, and at last for having 
 scoffed at God. From this last Death freed him. Tiien came his son 
 home from France, and he was sent to serve as a soldier, and no man 
 ever lieard more of him. At the time those in Authority first made 
 indictment against Carl Brandenburg, he was the richest man in the 
 Town, but when he died his daughter had only what might allow her 
 to dwell at the house of a peasant, and there she still abides. Many 
 such things happened, so that none dare go against his will.
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 17 
 
 understand how I got quit of it. He was a terrible man. 
 He lay in wait for every ship; thus his first walk each 
 morning was to Fetaljen, on the look out, and he was there 
 again many times in the day, and each one must do his 
 duty. Every traveller, man or woman, whom he asked 
 must give to the Church. Once on Fetaljen at Widow- 
 Sarah Andersen's, she who gives lodging to the sea-faring 
 folk, he nearly came to great mishap, for she warned hei 
 guests when she saw him coming, so they would creep up intc 
 the cock-loft, or down into the cellar, in order to hide them- 
 selves, for none could withstand his persuasions or threats 
 Thus it fell about with rich Heinrich Arendt from Liibeck 
 He was here on account of the ship which the Pirates had 
 taken from him, and had sold here, though with loss. Very 
 well he knew Master Max of old, and he crept up into the 
 cock-loft. Master Max was well used to this trafiipie and 
 crept after him. However, as he was exceeding heavy, 
 down breaks the stair with him, and he slipped and stuck 
 fast. A heavy reckoning came to Sarah for this, she had to 
 pay a vast summa for the new Church, in place of Heinrich 
 Arendt, and he would never make good the money to her, 
 but put her off with talk, so she never got a stiver, a thing 
 she has often told me even with tears. 
 
 The aforesaid Sarah Andersen, widow, died on the same 
 day, nay, even the same hour, as Master Max. I have much 
 considered the matter, in order to find what deep meaning 
 God may have had in it, and many have done the same. 
 But in truth it would not be well if everything were known 
 of us poor weak mortals. 
 
 It was in this manner that Parson Max's death came to 
 pass. When first he came hither he could carry all that he 
 drank, but not so at last, and when he was well in liquor he 
 was a sore terror to the Women, who were fain to take heed 
 for themselves with him ; and so it chanced one day at the 
 Castle that he had forced his brother into giving of a great 
 feast, as he mostly did force him to do twice yearly, at New 
 Year and St. John's day. Now this befell on St. John's 
 day ; but before I relate what chanced there, I must say 
 that the passage which leads from the steps is parlous dark 
 when the double doors are shut to, and that day they were 
 shut, by reason of a heavy rain such as is frequent here on 
 the coast. Master Max mistook Ane Trulsdotter, Trul Car- 
 
 B
 
 i8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 sten's daughter of Bonunen, for Nille, Raadmand Paavelsen's 
 daughter, because they both wore the same sort of red cotton 
 skirt. This befell in the passage in the dusk, and of those 
 who know both, it can be easily understood. But Raadman 
 Paavelsen's daughter would not be jested with, nay, she even 
 had courage to make a great outcry against him, and there 
 arose much noise and commotion. The counsellor fetched 
 the Master of the house, who spoke with great wrath to his 
 brother, and said there was too much of this in the Castle, 
 and that Max would never rest till he had brought them all 
 to disgrace. Never had Master Adler been heard to say so 
 much before, but his words were well considered and seemly ; 
 but Master Max would not allow himself to be taxed with it, 
 for he was in his Cassock, it being just after dinner, and so 
 he rushed at his brother, and, as Master Adler was mighty 
 heavy, he could not keep Ballansen, but he first fell against 
 the wall, and at last on to the floor, and both times he struck 
 his head with much violence. From that time Master Adler 
 lost his Wits and no long time alter, he died. 
 
 So Master Max took " The Estate " in possession for him- 
 self, and his heirs, but from the same hour that he went there, 
 he fell into furious madness, for he believed himself to be 
 possessed of Spirits ; they were the Spirits, he said, of his 
 Brother, and Father, and Mother, and others to boot. No 
 sleep could he have because of them, but went from Room to 
 Room, round all the House, and cried out, and preached 
 against them, with mighty power; nor would he allow the 
 windows to be shut, for by them he hoped the Spirits might 
 depart. But watch had to be kept lest he should fling him- 
 self out therefrom. Down in the Town, folk heard him preach- 
 ing in such manner as though he were verily in strife with 
 them. So it went about that the Devil would carry off Master 
 Max, and that all the Spirits had been sent by him, nay, iL was 
 even said that Master Max had had the Devil to serve him in 
 all his lucky undertakings, and now the Devil would have him 
 back, for that his Time was come, but that Master Max hoped 
 to cheat him by his power in the use of the Word, and by 
 his Ghostly Knowledge. And so they fought together for 
 dear life, both by day and night, for Master Max could hold 
 on if he were not outwitted. The whole Town crowded into 
 the Market Place, and up into the avenue, to listen. There was 
 a terror upon all, but none spoke of it, and further no Parson
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 19 
 
 could be found, albeit day after day messengers were sent all 
 about ; but every one was abroad. So there was no one to 
 help Master Max, by the Power of the Word, against the 
 Devil. 
 
 Now one evening there shone a marvellous great light 
 upon all the windows up at the Castle, and over the 
 whole House, as though it were in flames. Now Anders 
 from the Council House, also known as Anders Red-nose, 
 was walking from the Town, whence he had come to 
 deliver a summons. In the Avenue, hard by the House, he 
 heard the poor man screaming with his hoarse voice, for so 
 it now ever was, and Anders saw the flaming light over the 
 whole building, and in the midst of it the Evil One, lying 
 athwart the house, hard by Master Max's window, and saying, 
 " Now must thou come. Max." Anders went no further, but 
 turned back to the Town. As he came down to the Market 
 Place, screaming, he told us all that he had seen and heard. 
 And he became as frantic as Master Max himself, and he 
 also nmst be shut up and bound. And now it was seen of 
 all men, who had won in the struggle, and all awaited the 
 end, and accordingly Master Max died the day after, but 
 quietly, and in a peaceful frame of mind, which thing was 
 much wondered at. Nay, he made it understood by signs, 
 that he would be taken to his Mother's Chamber, there to 
 die, and hardly was he there, when all unexpected comes 
 Parson Thomasius, and he prayed for Master Max, and gave 
 to Him the 1 )ear Sacramente of the Altar, there in that 
 very room, and he sang to him, and prayed heartily, and 
 Master Max could now pray, though not with his voice, 
 and there he died in the same Bed as his mother before 
 him. 
 
 Those that were there remarked, that at that very moment 
 the Bells chimed from the church which he himself 
 had built. So it is after all doubtful who won, he or the 
 Devil. 
 
 I would I had the gift of a great writer, so that I might 
 be able to describe in every way what this Man was ; for 
 what he was daring his life, no one can know who has not 
 been under him, as it was with me for many years. Even 
 now I often dream of him at night, so that my wife is 
 awakened by my great Fear and out-cries, and she wakes me 
 assuring me that he is dead. But I am commonly bathed
 
 20 IHE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 in sweat from head to foot. He was three times married 
 and would have taken a wife a fourth time, an he had not 
 died. I have spoken with them all three. For I had often 
 need to go to the house on account of my business. Then 
 they told all their troubles to me, the one after the other. 
 For he would have everything done, and that all at once. I 
 do not use my own words, but those of Aadel Knutsdotter 
 hifi second wife. She died at Candlemas, but a little before 
 as she sat in the great Chair in the green Parlour, she called 
 me in, for she had heard me in the kitchen. She was very 
 weak, and her Hands trembled. I asked what ailed her ? 
 " This is what ails me," she answered, " that my husband 
 has worn me out with bearing of children, and with toil, like 
 the garment he wears next him, so now it is over with me. 
 God knows who will be the next, though mayhap he knows 
 himself." That was what she said, and, but a short while 
 after, she died. But the next one was Birgitte Mogens- 
 dotter, the Apothecary's daugliter, and the wedding was just 
 three months to the day, after Aadel was buried. Albeit 
 Birgitte was a big strong woman, she became so fearful when 
 she heard that he was to have her to wife, that she filled 
 herself with strong drink whenever she could come by any 
 of that which her father the Apothecary dealt in. She has 
 often told me herself wherefor she had taken to drink, and 
 this was the reason of it. But she fought with him Vt^hen 
 she was in liquor, and in the end she poisoned herself. The 
 Doctor, Mogens Mauritius, has since said this ; she did not 
 die of drink, as was commonly said. She was married three 
 years, and had two sons by him. He had in all thirteen 
 children, albeit he was not an old man when he died. By 
 a blow he had made the eldest son, Adler, deaf of both ears, 
 so that he became an idiot. 
 
 Even if, with my slender gifts, I could describe him as he 
 was wont to behave when he was wroth with wives, servants, 
 children and others, yet would I not do it. For we saw at 
 his departing that God himself, in his unsearchable favour 
 (for verily that is great), had forgiven him. Why then should 
 not we, poor creatures towards whom he has sinned far less, 
 do the like. Which thing indeed The Bishop said in the 
 rare oration he made over him. For his burying was 
 Mighty grand and magnificent. Never have I seen the like; I 
 might fill several pages if I were to count the noble Persons
 
 WHAT FURTHER CAME TO PASS. 21 
 
 who were there, and say what in three day^ was eaten, and 
 drunk, and said. In his Ufetime Parson Max was more 
 powerful than any who had ever been in this place. Except 
 the King, no one had any word to say, as long as he was in 
 his Prime. He was skilled also in the Arts, namely thus, 
 that he helped the people in all difficulties, more especially 
 with their accounts, and in Building. I have told about the 
 Church, but I have forgotten to say that he was also a great '' 
 ship-builder. As a little lad he had gained skill down by , 
 the dock, and later at " Holmen" in Copenhagen, where he 
 was wont to go, and also abroad, he carefully studied this. 
 I have heard that from himself. The ships built here in 
 his brother's dock, under the river banks, were all built by 
 him, and several thereof were sold abroad, bringing great 
 fame and gain to us. But now we will leave speaking of 
 him. 
 
 From this history we can clearly see how all has been 
 directed of God, namely, that the Father Curt brought their 
 Mother and himself to ruin, and Master Max, both his 
 Brother and Mmse/f, and to a great degree his Eldest son, 
 so that but little of Blessing had come with what they had 
 stolen from Claus Mathiasson, and from many others. Like- 
 wise their strength alone was a cause of stumbling to them. 
 In the next place we must be mindful that the King's High 
 and Sacred name was taken in vain, in order to deceive, but 
 for punishment it v/as, that in the same mighty name " The 
 Estate" was squandered. 
 
 There are more than I unworthy, who have noted this. 
 For, as the before-named Counsellor Niels Ingebrechtsen 
 was at Copenhagen, in order to try to gain the office of 
 Collector of Tolls, he said the same to the King's Confessor, 
 who was known to him. And as Niels sought Audience of 
 the King, the Confessor followed him, and, in the King's 
 Presence, he prayed Master Niels frankly to relate all which 
 he had told to him. And when the King rightly understood 
 how it had befallen, that " The Estate " had come into Curl's 
 possession, and what had been the cause of its ruin, namely, 
 that the King's most noble name had, in all innocence, 
 stood father to both these things, the King graciously vouch- 
 safed to lend his ear, and after much thought to say, " The 
 Lord is more cunning than all the rogues put together." 
 And these words of the King, do I in all humility make mine
 
 22 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 own, as I leave behind me this history, and repair to other 
 Lands. 
 
 About the year 1830 the following was all that remained 
 of " The Estate." The Mountain with the woods, in which 
 the fir-trees were again beginning to predominate, the great 
 ruinous house, the curious gardens, with their stone walls, on 
 each side of the avenue, several bare fields between the 
 gardens and the town, and a few more on either hand. 
 Beside this some clearings round about, still belonged to 
 " The Estate." 
 
 The then owner, a tall, dark, dirty fellow, in a green apron 
 which reached to his feet, worked in his own garden ; this, 
 with the addition of a few cows, was his only means of 
 subsistence. 
 
 He was the only survivor of the whole family in that part 
 of the country, and he was unmarried.
 
 II 
 
 JOHN KURT
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LONELINESS. 
 
 At fifteen Konrad Kurt had left his home; he could no 
 longer bear to witness the cruelty with which his mother was 
 treated ; for domestic tyranny was an heirloom in the Kurt 
 family. He crossed over to Hull, and made his home for 
 some time with an uncle, but was eventually sent, at his 
 expense, to live in the country. The boy's nervous system 
 had been pronounced by a doctor to be far from strong, and 
 if he were to be made anything of, he must live as much as 
 possible in the open air ; it was therefore suggested that he 
 might be brought up as a gardener. Now gardening chanced 
 to be a perfect gourmandise in the Kurt family, so that the 
 lad eventually adopted it as his profession. 
 
 When, on his father's death, he returned home to see after 
 his own interests, and to take care of his poor mother, he 
 found but little else to take care of, his worthy father having 
 sold all the clearing rights of his last woods, his remaining 
 shares in some ships, and finally the tile works, sinking the 
 whole of the proceeds in an annuity. In a word, he had the 
 houses, the gardens, and a field or two ; all the rest Kurt 
 had, as they say, "eaten bare" all round him. His son, he 
 considered, must follow his example. He might easily begin 
 by selling the field nearest to the town ; with the lower 
 garden, it presented a splendid site for building. Konrad 
 Kurt, on the other hand, was quite of opinion that enough 
 of "The Estate" had been sold already. He therefore 
 instead raised a loan, drained the gardens and fields, put the 
 houses so far into repair, that they would not actually fall to 
 ruin, and enlarged the forcing-house, adding another to it at 
 a later time. In short, he showed that it was possible to
 
 26 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 live on his inheritance, and manage a garden, in such a way 
 as to make it pay, an idea which was then new in that part 
 of the world. 
 
 At first he expended almost all he earned, but by-and-by 
 things improved. A single room served him for sleeping, 
 eating, and writing ; the first room on the left side of the 
 hall, which had been occupied by the first Kurt, and by all 
 the different possessors of " The Estate." The room within it, 
 which had been formerly used as a bedroom, was given by 
 Kurt to his mother, who, poor woman, was now happier 
 than she had ever been in her life before. All household 
 work was done in the kitchen, on the other side of the wide 
 hall, which, running through the whole house, divided it in 
 two. The rest of the main building remained empty. In 
 the autumn Kurt covered the floors of the different rooms 
 with such portions of his produce as needed drying. 
 
 He was an impetuous man, taciturn at times, and stormy 
 at others, but a good man at the bottom. His servants and 
 workmen stood by him, and he stood by them. The sailors 
 and fishermen living up on the mountain also received a 
 great deal of kindness from him ; he gave them seeds, and 
 taught them how to cultivate their gardens, and utilise the 
 produce. In the course of many years, the refuse from their 
 houses had caused so great an accumulation round them, 
 that enough soil had been formed to enable any one to have 
 a strip of garden who chose to give the labour to it, besides 
 which, they could carry away as much mould as they wished 
 for from " The Estate " to mix with it. Never had the folk 
 on the hill imagined that they would come to carrying earth 
 from down below, that they would ever get time for, or find 
 any fun in, such an occupation. Every Sunday throughout 
 the spring and summer, Kurt went up to the mountain and 
 helped them, a custom which he kept up through his whole 
 life, but these were almost the only occasions on which he 
 was ever seen beyond his gardens, house, and cellars. 
 
 He was up and out every morning in spring and summei 
 by four o'clock, and as soon as it was light during the autumn 
 and winter months. His summer costume consisted of a 
 pair of fustian trousers, a whitey-grey linen coat, a green 
 apron reaching down to his feet, and a cap with a wide 
 peak. The same trousers and long apron were worn during 
 the winter, with the addition of a tightly buttoned seaman's
 
 LONELINESS. 27 
 
 pea-jacket, and a fur cap with a wide brim afways turned 
 down in such a way that the loose flaps were constantly 
 brushing against his face. He had never been seen dressed 
 in any other way, excepting on Sundays, when he shaved, 
 wore a starched shirt, and laid aside his apron. He had not 
 inherited the broad defiant forehead of the Kurts. His was 
 a fairly high one, and noticeable for its excessive whiteness ; 
 all the more so, perhaps, from the rest of his face being very 
 weather-beaten. He had the eager, wild eyes of his an- 
 cestors ; his face was somewhat longer, thin, and with rather 
 a wide nose. 
 
 Housewives and children soon learned that it was better 
 to go up to "The Estate" and deal with Kurt himself, 
 stern and even passionate though he was, than to go to 
 the shop on the market-place, for he was in reality very easy 
 to manage, and excessively fond of children ; they had to be 
 careful, however, not to be too long in making a choice, and 
 never to attempt to bargain. 
 
 He often seemed, when he was standing there, to be pon- 
 dering some serious matter in an absent-minded way, and 
 would then collect himself with a hasty " Ta, ta, ta, ta," 
 ending with a long, deep " Ta-a-a ! " 
 
 Everything prospered with him, his cows and garden pay- 
 ing him better and better. But after a few years a rumour 
 began to spread that, since his mother's death, he spent every 
 evening by himself getting drunk on whisky toddy. As he 
 went regularly to bed at half-past nine, any one who wished 
 to ascertain if this were the case, must go up there before 
 that time. One or two people did so, and found that it was 
 but too true ; by half-past eight he was thoroughly drunk, 
 crying, and unable to speak distinctly. 
 
 At last this came to the ears of " old " Pastor Green. He 
 was always, as a young man, called " old," a frightful accident 
 having completely bleached his hair. 
 
 Pastor Green was one of the first men in Norway who 
 came forward to combat intemperance, and who gave up 
 their lives to the work. It was his axiom that it is useless 
 to preach against drunkenness otherwise than by facts and 
 actions, and that it is quite hopeless to expect to convert 
 the individual drunkard, without knowing what cause has 
 driven him to drink. There always is one, and if drinking 
 is not hereditary, or become a long-established habit, it is
 
 28 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 to the removal of the cause that you must look for its 
 cure. 
 
 Green paid a visit to Konrad Kurt, and chatted with him, 
 until he drew from him, that while he was living in England, 
 he had had an intrigue with the wife of the gardener, to 
 whom he had been apprenticed, and that she had had a child 
 by him. She had died just at the same time as his mother. 
 
 He had been madly in love with her, he said ; yes, it had 
 been a terrible thing to deceive her husband. " But — there 
 really was no help for it " — and he began to cry. Then 
 their boy, " Ah ! there never was such a merry child born 
 before." And, in his yearning for him, the tipsy man cried, 
 and upbraided himself with wild oaths. 
 
 Green endeavoured to induce him to ask pardon from the 
 gardener, and bring the boy home, but Kurt had not the 
 courage for the effort, so that there was nothing for it but for 
 Green to use what other means he could. 
 
 Accordingly, one summer evening, he walked up to " The 
 Estate," accompanied by a tall, dark-haired boy of twelve, 
 and asked for Kurt, who was still at work in the garden. It 
 was a sight to see how Kurt, as he got up out of the hot-bed 
 where he had been digging, rubbing the earth from his 
 hands, suddenly stopped short, and stared at Green from 
 under the wide peak of his cap ; then turned his gaze to the 
 dark-haired boy, and back again to Green. 
 
 At last he recognised the eager, wild eyes, larger than his 
 by-the-way, the long, rather wide nose, and the thin face, so 
 like his own. Unconsciously he exclaimed in English : " I 
 
 beg pardon — but this lad " He could go no further, 
 
 and Green was obliged to finish for him : " Yes, this was 
 indeed his son." 
 
 That evening Kurt forgot to get out the whisky bottle, 
 and when he did next produce it, the boy seized hold of it 
 and flung it out of the window against a stone — a really 
 capital shot. Glass, sugar-basin, and spoon went the same 
 way ; capitally thrown they certainly were. Pastor Green 
 had begged the boy to watch when his father took out the 
 bottle, and try to get it away from him, and it was in this 
 fashion that the youngster carried out his instructions. His 
 father stood for a few minutes staring at him, till at last he 
 broke out into an irresistible peal of laughter.
 
 ( 29 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A GENIUS. 
 
 Never had any one felt surer that he had a genius for a son 
 than did Konrad Kurt. Not only that the lad was a 
 thorough botanist, and knew every secret of gardening, but 
 there was not a piece of work on all the farmstead, from the 
 cow-house to the kitchen, which he had not soon learned 
 to know all about. It was easy to see that he had been 
 brought up in some back premises, among gardeners, cooks, 
 and dairy people, and had been well taught into the bargain. 
 
 Nothing would serve him but to go on board the ships, 
 and boats, and learn how to manage them, for he had never 
 lived in a seaport town before. 
 
 And then how he learned Norse, in only a week or two ! 
 First and foremost the art of swearing. His father con- 
 vulsed himself with laughter over all the oaths which the 
 lad began to make use of with the funniest accent. Then, 
 what stories he would tell ! Even before he had properly 
 learned the language, he could interest the work-people in 
 a way which was really extraordinary, and he was therefore 
 allowed to play any tricks he liked ; it was all looked upon 
 as fun. 
 
 When he spoke Norse easily, how he would gammon 
 them ! It was his father's delight to steal behind one of the 
 high hedges and listen to him. The boy would tell them 
 what the English Court was like, where he had been as page ; 
 it was he who, with some of his companions, used to walk 
 before the lovely young Queen, while behind came all the 
 bigwigs. Probably he had seen something of the sort at the 
 theatre, or in some picture. Then the tremendous warlike 
 achievements he had seen in India, when he was over there 
 or a little tour with the Queen of England. The father 
 stood hidden, and admired the vivid colours in which 
 the boy painted it all, although he still knew so little Norse. 
 The father enticed his son to go on telling him adventures. 
 He drank no more whisky toddy ; the boy himself inebriated 
 him. What a genius ! ah ! what a genius ! 
 
 There was a continual chasing away of cats from the 
 garden ; they came up from the town after the birds ; and
 
 30 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 John, as this last Master Kurt was called, having one day 
 captured one of the most determined of the depredators, 
 ordained that the murderer should be crucified. As not 
 one, even of the youngest of the labourers, would help him 
 in this, he temporarily fastened up the cat, giving her plenty 
 to eat, while he himself went to fetch some rough boys from 
 the harbour. 
 
 Such extraordinary sounds of glee soon afterwards reached 
 his father's ear, that he hastened to see what it might por- 
 tend, especially as some more dubious notes were mingled 
 with the cries of delight. He found the executioners per- 
 forming an Indian dance before the victim, a poor bleeding 
 cat, fastened to the storehouse door. The boy's inordi- 
 nate delight hindered him from seeing his father, whose first 
 thought on this occasion was not that his son John was 
 a genius ; although, when he came to think it over, he 
 must confess that it was a very remarkable invention, and 
 decidedly well done into the bargain. It is no easy thing 
 to crucify a cat. 
 
 However, another occasion came when he thought differ- 
 ently. 
 
 As the weather was excessively bad, his father had for- 
 bidden John to go down to the garden, and the boy took 
 his revenge by attacking his father's finest apple-tree, a young 
 one, which was in fruit for the first time. He set to work to 
 saw it right through at the roots, and covered it up again 
 with earth. His father was by no means so struck this 
 time, nor did he say much about the invention. He entirely 
 forgot to think of his son as a genius, to such an extent 
 indeed, that he talked to him in his room, with a new well- 
 twisted birch rod in his hand. The boy never guessed, 
 could not grasp, that his father was going to flog him, and 
 when this utterly incredible, this impossible thing did 
 happen, he rushed towards the door, with a look of mad 
 terror in his face. His father was as supple and active as 
 he, and sprang on him like a tiger, flung the boy on to the 
 floor, and began beating him with an absolutely wild plea- 
 sure. John screamed, prayed, promised, begged for mercy. 
 He got up on his knees, sprang up, and threw himself down 
 again, his eyes seemed to start out of his head, and his cries 
 became nothing more than a continuous, meaningless sound, 
 his face turning almost black. The maids, servants, and
 
 A GENIUS, 31 
 
 workmen came rushing in from the passage, and tore open 
 the doors. Kurt became frantic at this interruption. He 
 rushed first to one door, then to another, shutting them in 
 the faces of those who stood there. He had become almost 
 as crazed as his son, who, in the meantime, had contrived to 
 make his escape. 
 
 Only an hour later the boy was out among the gardeners, 
 and there could not have been anywhere, a more good- 
 natured, more submissive, brighter, livelier lad than John 
 Kurt. 
 
 He lent a hand first to one, then to another, with flat- 
 tering coaxing words. Then he began to tell them stories 
 about the apes at Gibraltar — why, it swarms with apes ! 
 they stand there looking across to Africa. 
 
 And then he mimicked them, snarling and making him- 
 self as inquisitive, frolicsome, timid, wild, and nasty as they. 
 Likely enough he had seen monkeys somewhere, though not 
 precisely at Gibraltar. As his father was passing by, he 
 heard the fun, and concealed himself as usual, stooping 
 down, and peeping. 
 
 That evening, he and his son had a talk together, in the 
 very same room, the old " Kurt room." There the two last 
 of the Kurts wept in each other's arms ; the son promised 
 to be always, always, always good, and the father never to 
 beat him again — never ! 
 
 It was but a short time after this, that a lad who used to 
 run errands for Konrad Kurt, had got a new Sunday jacket. 
 His brother, who was a mate, had bought it at an English 
 seaport, for next to nothing, from a woman in the street, 
 and every one concurred in the boy's belief that there had 
 never been such a fine one seen in the town before. Alas ! 
 as he prepared to put it on the next Sunday, he found that 
 it had been cut to pieces. The cuts were small, but so care- 
 fully executed, that though as long as it hung up it appeared 
 to be whole, it was in reality nothing but a useless rag. Of 
 course all thoughts turned at once to John, who happened 
 at that moment to be out rowing. Owing to the cruel way 
 in which his father had punished his last fault, and the affec- 
 tion which they had for him, every one hesitated to speak 
 But the gardener's boy, Andreas Berg, as he was named, 
 had only this one jacket, and it was the delight of his heart : 
 he could not restrain his tears ; and old Kurt, at last observing
 
 32 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 that something was amiss, the whole truth had to come 
 out. 
 
 It really seemed impossible that John should not have 
 known what was sure to happen, and have realised that after 
 his performances with the cat, and with the fruit-tree, sus- 
 picion must inevitably fall upon him. It may be that he 
 imagined that it would never go further than between the 
 little fellow and himself, or that he might rely on his father's 
 promise never to beat him again. Be that as it may, he 
 came calmly up from the water, bragging before he was well 
 inside the garden gate, of all the exploits that he had per- 
 formed during the day. His father called him from the 
 open window of his room. The boy answered him with a 
 ringing " Yes,'' and was up the steps in a moment. 
 
 The instant he saw the jacket lying on the table, and a well- 
 twisted whip by the side of it, he became as white as a sheet, 
 and seemed entirely to lose the control of his senses. He 
 turned round and round in a circle as he stood there, and 
 hurriedly exclaimed, in a voice hoarse from holding back his 
 breath, " It was not I. It was not I. It was not I. It was 
 not I." Then, seeing his father lift the whip, he instantly 
 changed to his own voice, crying, " Yes, it was I, it was I, it 
 was I, it was I." "Will you ask pardon?" "Yes, yes." 
 He was on his knees in a moment, and with his hands 
 crossed above his head, he cried, "Pardon, pardon, pardon, 
 pardon ! " " And will you beg the boy's pardon ?" " Oh ! 
 yes, where is the boy ? Let us go to him." He was up and 
 by the door in a moment, casting terrified glances at his 
 father, who followed, with the whip in his hand, though he 
 did not go so far as to strike him. 
 
 John fell down once more on his knees before the little 
 boy, tearing off his own jacket and waistcoat to give to him, 
 although no one had suggested to him to do so. An 
 English gold coin, and two Norwegian silver ones, which 
 were in the waistcoat pocket, fell out, and these he gave to 
 the lad at once, an act which so touched the father that he 
 was obliged to turn away. But a very short time afterwards, 
 while the workmen were at dinner, John made his appear- 
 ance, and went through the performance of the Gibraltar 
 monkeys for their benefit. Then, returning to his father, he 
 asked him confidentially, if part of what had been taken up in 
 the garden that day, might be given to the men to take home,
 
 A GENIUS. 33 
 
 and, on permissionbeinggranted,he went off with them to help 
 to carry the things away. His father stood and watched 
 him from the window. 
 
 John's next exploit was on the sea. He had probably 
 found that such performances were dangerous on land, and it 
 remained to be seen if there were more freedom on the water. 
 One day he set off in a boat, with a little boy as his com- 
 panion, having formed the plan of throwing the child over- 
 board, in order that he might rescue him. The idea may 
 have arisen from something he had read, or he may only 
 have wished to see the boy's terror ; at all events he 
 obtained this gratification. The little fellow could not 
 swim a stroke, and thought that if he could make Jiis com- 
 panion understand this, he would give up his plan ; but in 
 vain. The boy's terror increased every moment, he screamed 
 with all his small strength, and John might have recognised 
 a fear so like his own. But no. The child clung to John's 
 clothes with all his little fingers. He was shaken off again. 
 He seized hold of the boat, and then, utterly bewildered, 
 tried to grasp the empty air; but overboard he went. 
 John sprang after him, caught the boy just as he was 
 sinking, and held him up, but it was only with the greatest 
 difficulty that he got him back into the boat, the child 
 having been seized with cramp. A number of people rowed 
 out from all quarters, believing that a murder had been 
 committed. 
 
 John did not return home that evening, and during three 
 days search was made for him. First by every one on " The 
 Estate," later by the police, and by a number of the towns- 
 people who felt for his father's distress. He was at length 
 discovered up a scsier. He flung himself down at once, 
 and screamed at the top of his voice, absolutely refusing to 
 return home until he had received a promise that no one 
 would beat him. 
 
 This last adventure made him known all over the town. 
 Whether it were good for him or not, that every one came 
 to the conclusion that he was not like other children, not 
 quite right, the fact remains that even at school the masters 
 were rather too forbearing, of course not his school-fellows — 
 they excuse nothing. 
 
 He did the most horrible things ; for instance, as he 
 was approaching manhood, he committed an act of such 
 
 c
 
 34 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Irightful indecency that it is impossible to write it, but on 
 this occasion, his father came to the school to beg that he 
 might be ])ardoned, and, as all the teachers pitied the father, 
 who worked so honestly, it was locked over that time. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 man's breast is like the ocean. 
 
 John passed an excellent matriculation, whereupon he took 
 a fancy to become a cadet, to which his father at once gave 
 his consent, considering that at the Military Academy he 
 would learn order and discipline, though, as a matter of 
 fact, if what is meant by discipline, is obedience to orders, 
 he had no need to learn it, and he had never been disorderly 
 in his habits. Other faults, however, he did possess, and 
 he was twice nearly expelled from the Academy. The only 
 thing which saved him was his behaviour to his teachers, 
 which was always ingratiating. From the Academy he again 
 passed a creditable examination, and became absolutely 
 enthusiastic for his profession. He showed himself par- 
 ticularly good in drill. All was life, movement, and story- 
 telling where he was, and swearing into the bargain, for by 
 degrees he had brought swearing to a fine art. All the 
 officers in the brigade put together, did not swear as 
 much in the course of a year, as he did in a week. He 
 could begin a string of oaths at one flank of the company, 
 as they stood on parade, and keep it up till he arrived at the 
 other. If he had used all the powers of imagination which 
 he squandered on swearing, in painting, he could have 
 stocked a museum ; or if he had been a poet or composer, his 
 shelves would have been full. But unfortunately his oaths 
 will not bear repeating, for they were generally used when 
 only men were present. 
 
 For common every-day use he was content with ordinary 
 oaths, though, even then, his way of using them was that of 
 a master. As an indication of the first-named description — 
 those, namely, of his own invention — I will give one example 
 a little toned down. Qn one occasion, when the company
 
 MAN'S BREAST IS LIKE THE OCEAN. 35 
 
 was assembled for prayers, the chaplain had wearied them 
 by preaching an excessively long discourse, which John 
 Kurt declared he had once read in an old book of sermons. 
 He therefore asked for a blessing on the chaplain in the 
 following terms : " May Satan inwardly illuminate all through 
 his inside with burning sermon books." 
 
 He had an unending supply of stories, which were served 
 up in a seething sauce of imagery and cursing. His stories 
 had this advantage in them, that everybody did not believe 
 them. 
 
 John Kurt was tall, thin, bony, and as supple as a willow. 
 He wore beard and moustache, but they did not grow well. 
 The hair was ragged, and there were patches where none 
 grew. This gave his face a look of being torn in two. When 
 his wild eyes flashed out he was actually ugly. But his brow 
 was clear, with the fair skin which was hereditary in his family ; 
 and sometimes, when he was at his best, a gleam would pass 
 over it which quite redeemed his plainness. His feelings were 
 extremely strong, and he could make others feel with him. 
 
 The finest thing in the world for a grown man, he 
 considered, was without doubt to be a soldier and officer. 
 He thundered out his assurances to the whole world, 
 that no one could be a man who had not gone through 
 his drill. " Drill and discipline," he would exclaim, using 
 by preference the commonest expressions, for book language 
 was not strong enough ; " drill and discipline. That was 
 women-folks' greatest loss that they never had discipline or 
 tact in their commonplace lives — the swine ! " The whole 
 country ought to be arranged as one vast " Drill-hall." 
 There would be no more cranky bodies then : " No, there 
 would be — devil take me — order and sense ; the whole 
 Stortvig — devil plague them — ought to go to the parade 
 ground and be drilled." Till that day came there would be 
 ne'er a bit of sense in the whole crew. " The king — devil stare 
 at me — ought to be drilled, if not the whole place would be 
 like a pigstye, where the strongest snout shoves t'other 
 one's out of the trough. Some one must stand over them 
 with a whip." 
 
 How then can one possibly paint the astonishment of his 
 comrades, his friends, and, above all, of his father, when one 
 fine day it was announced that First Lieutenant John Kurt 
 had applied for a discharge, which had been granted him.
 
 36 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS 
 
 lie came storming home again, and whenever he was asked 
 why he had left, he replied that the whole military system 
 was — "devil pickle him — the most miserable buffoonery. No 
 honourable man ought to lend himself to it. The officers 
 were nothing but dressed-up, well-trained monkeys, who 
 trained strong lusty lads to be monkeys as well. The 
 generals were big monkeys with feathers in their caps, and 
 the king was the chief monkey of all." 
 
 What was he going to do ? " Why, dig the ground like his 
 father. The earth — that was the only solid thing there was 
 in creation, and so it was the only thing worth a rush, or that 
 produced anything worth having. To get out of it all that 
 tasted best, and smelt best, that was — may the devil quarter 
 him — the finest thing an independent lad could turn his 
 hand to." He dressed himself in the most slovenly way, 
 and worked among the other labourers for his living. 
 
 That was all very well during the summer, but the harvest 
 was hardly over before he discovered that — may the devil 
 fly off with him — gardening was simply muck. It con- 
 sisted in using this sort of muck, and then so much muck, 
 and muck in that fashion. It seemed to him at last that 
 •' all the world was naught but a great muck-heap. They 
 were the luckiest who owned the biggest. What — devil 
 butcher him — was war other than that each one killed t'other 
 for his own muck-heap ? Poets and poetry were the flies 
 in spring when the muck began to work." 
 
 He went off in a ship, bound for the South Sea, and was 
 absent for several years, nor, when one beautiful spring day 
 he returned home, could anyone gain a clue as to where he 
 had been. If he were to be believed, he had traversed the 
 whole globe, for from that time no country or nation could 
 be mentioned, nor anything remarkable in natural history, no 
 ocean, no well-known building, which he had not seen, nor 
 a single famous person with whom he was not on terms of 
 the greatest intimacy, or, at the very least, well known to. 
 It was evident that they were not all inventions. He 
 had a great deal of information which could only have 
 been acquired on the spot. He had undoubtedly some 
 notable acquaintance, for his correspondence proved it. 
 Later on in the summer an English nobleman and his 
 friends sought him out to accompany them on a mountain 
 hunting expedition.
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 37 
 
 Why had he come home? "To see his father before he 
 died," he said ; though, to confess the truth, his father was 
 in the best of health, and not more pleased to welcome 
 his son home, than he had been to see him depart. 
 
 John, however, declared all the same, that for his part, 
 Heaven help him, he could not bear any longer to think that 
 his father might be dying, and he not by his side. 
 
 From the time he returned he was all solicitude and affec- 
 tion for his father. He was now an old man, and allowed 
 his son to do anything with him that he chose, and strange 
 fancies he took at times. Such as, when he suddenly deter- 
 mined that his father should not eat anything. Or when he, 
 all at once, hit on the plan of putting him into a warm bath, 
 while he turned the cold douche on to him. Another idea 
 was to lay him under a number of large eider-down cover- 
 lids, in order to make him sweat, although his father had not 
 the slightest need for such treatment. He would give a 
 side glance at his son, and a very speaking one it was; there 
 was neither confidence, nor fear in it, still less any good- 
 humour, but a certain cold inquisitiveness, as though he 
 just wished to know w/iaf 7iext ; and sometimes he seemed 
 to ask, " Is this John, or is it not John ? " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 
 
 In the autumn of the same year, a girl came home, who 
 became the subject of conversation in the whole town, and 
 for two reasons. 
 
 Her name was Tomasine Rendalen, and she was the 
 daughter of the head-master, Rendalen. His name was 
 derived from the mountain district of Rendalen, from which 
 his father had originally come. 
 
 Rendalen was a big, strong man, who quietly, if rather 
 ponderously, performed his scholastic duties in the town, and 
 who, since his wife's death, had taken interest in nothing but 
 his school, and the town reading society. 
 
 The management of his house he entirely left in the hands
 
 38 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 of old Mariane and his children. Toraasine, who was his 
 eldest child, possessed a more than ordinary talent for 
 languages, together with all her mother's determination. 
 When she was only sixteen she borrowed a little money, 
 entered a school in England, and, while there, thoroughly 
 mastered the EngHsh language. From thence she went to 
 a school in France, where she taught the pupils English and 
 acquired French ; and finally to one in Germany, where she 
 gave instruction in both English and French, and learned 
 German. She had been away nearly five years, and had 
 become a practised, and unusually clever teacher. She had 
 no sooner returned home than she began to give lessons 
 both to men and women, and thereby to pay off her debts. 
 This aroused great admiration in the town, and procured her 
 a very large circle of friends. Her figure excited an equally 
 unanimous admiration, and it must be admitted that it 
 requires something special in a girl's figure before this can 
 happen. A beautiful face is always admired, for there can 
 be no delusion about it. A fine figure, on the contrary, is 
 hardly sufficient in itself to command attention. She was 
 young, and well-made, and always dressed in the latest 
 fashion. Like other vigorous and healthy girls, she had from 
 her childhood longed to exercise her strength, and had 
 taken every opportunity of doing so. In England she had 
 set to work to practise gynmastics, and had continued them 
 ever since. It had become a passion with her; the result 
 was, that there was not a single girl in the town who held 
 herself like Tomasine. 
 
 It did not in the least lessen the admiration for her figure 
 that she had a somewhat flat nose, and that her very light 
 hair gave her the appearance, at a distance, of being bald ; as 
 for her eyebrows, they were really not worth mentioning. 
 Her eyes were grey, and, when without her spectacles, she 
 screwed them up. Her mouth was much too large, but the 
 teeth within it were as sound and regular as though her 
 family had remained in Rendalen and lived upon hard bread. 
 When any one saw her from behind for the first time, and 
 she then suddenly turned round, it caused a certain dis- 
 appointment. People even thought of calHng her "The 
 Disappointment," but the name did not take. Her figure 
 carried her over all criticism. Being near-sighted she wore 
 spectacles, the only girl in the town who did so. In those
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 39 
 
 days the fashion oi using pince-nez had not come in, so this 
 gave something rather unusual to her appearance. She 
 literally shone with strength and intelligence. 
 
 Through that winter she was the most popular partner at 
 all the balls. Her delight in being at home again, free from 
 all restraint, and among a number of merry young people of 
 both sexes, her happiness in feeling that every one was 
 kind to her and hked her, were plainly visible. She often 
 expressed her feelings in simple and natural terms ; she 
 aroused no jealousy, though it may be that this was a little 
 strengthened by the fact that she was well aware that she was 
 not pretty. That winter was a great dance winter, and at every 
 dance she was present, for dancing was the most delightful 
 thing she knew. During that winter John Kurt became for 
 the first time a dancing man, and it was entirely for her sake 
 that he did so. She soon heard him say this, but she knew 
 that he could not be gauged by the rules of ordinary life, for 
 he was always allowed to say what he liked. She looked 
 upon him as something quite fresh, and very peculiar, but 
 she acted as every one else did, and neither ran away from 
 
 him, nor fainted, because he said that he would be d d, 
 
 pickled, boiled, and roasted if, when she danced, she were 
 not like a young, lively, whinnying Arabian mare, or like 
 a flock of birds in the woods in spring-time ; her arras and 
 her neck were just like a dainty, warm, little Turkish 
 pigling, one o' them with a pink skin. She moved through 
 the dance, Heaven help him, like a great man-of-war 
 through the water. When he danced with her — by his 
 honour, life, and salvation — it was like being up on the 
 mountains of a clear autumn day, with a gun in his hand, 
 and the tykes ranging the hillside in full cry. This, shouted 
 in trum])et tones into her ear during every dance, only added 
 to her amusement. The others laughed and she laughed with 
 them. She did not possess the slightest knowledge of human 
 nature. That cannot be learnt by going from one school 
 to another, even though they be in foreign countries. 
 
 Kurt very soon began to visit her home ; he knew the 
 hours when she would be free, and speedily learnt her 
 times for walking, following her about everywhere. She tried 
 as much as possible not to be alone with him ; otherwise she 
 was pleased enough that he should come. He told her and 
 her friends amusing stories, and touching ones sometimes.
 
 40 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Such, for instance, was the history of a deserted brood of 
 ptarmigan, which he had once picked up, one by one, out 
 of the heather, where they were running about, all downy 
 and unfledged; he had brought them all home, he said, 
 in his cap. This story seemed to bring with it such a 
 fresh breath of mountain air, full of the scent of the 
 heather, and he related it with such genuine feeHng, that 
 it brought the tears into their eyes. Such things as these 
 seemed to inspire him ; even in the midst of the wildest 
 stories, he would often throw in some delicate, telling touch. 
 The way in which he invariably spoke of his father attracted 
 the girl to him. There was a mixture of drollness and 
 tenderness in it, midway between laughter and tears. They 
 got used to his rough descriptions, his coarse language ; it 
 could not well have been dispensed with ; it gave a special 
 colouring which charmed, while it startled them. Tomasine 
 and her friends did not try to have it otherwise, so that at 
 last there was no one who appeared to them to be able to 
 relate stories except himself. Tomasine more than any one 
 else. She felt that it was all done for her amusement. 
 
 One day, when by chance they were alone, he began to tell 
 her about the widow of a pilot, for whom he was just then 
 most assiduously making a collection. He saw that she liked 
 him for doing so, and, without further preface, he declared 
 that Froken Tomasine Holm Rendalen was to him what a 
 town was to a desert caravan ; nay, if she laughed, it was 
 because she did not know what it was to trudge along through 
 endless sand, under a burning sun, exhausted, hungry, and 
 thirsty. " It is something to see a town then, I can tell you." 
 Well,' s/ie was the minaret tower, the plane-trees, and the 
 springs of water, the wine which awaited them, and white 
 tents, and dancing, the sound of the guitars, and the smell 
 of roasting meat. Suppose they two were to make a match 
 of it I If that could be, he would sell the whole garden, and 
 they would wander away to all the most delightful places on 
 the face of the earth. They would lie on their backs 
 under the awnings, while their servants came and put food 
 and drink into their mouths. Or why not stay here and 
 carry " The Estate " gardens right up on to the mountains ? 
 What would not grow with such shelter, on such sunny 
 hillsides, fanned by such warm sea breezes. There they 
 would dig away into the hillside, like a couple of badgers,
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 41 
 
 and become rich people. But he saw what a fright he had 
 put her into ; so, without any pause, he turned the conver- 
 sation into a wild panegyric on his father. The fact was 
 that the whole thing was his father's invention. He was 
 determined to have his son married. His father was a man 
 who would get up of a winter's night, when it suddenly 
 turned cold, and go out to wrap bast mats and woollen rags 
 round the frozen fruit-trees, as if they were naked children. 
 If he wanted to cut down a bush he took the birds'-nests 
 down first, and carried them away to some place near, or to 
 some other bush, and stuck 'em fast there. What wonder 
 then if his father gave a thought for him too; but, as for 
 him, he could wait, he was quite happy as he was. And he 
 started off with a story about some cows who would not eat 
 the grass because it looked black, but he put them on large 
 green spectacles, so that the grass looked quite nice and 
 fresh — " then they munched it up, I can promise you." 
 
 She could gather in the meantime that John Kurt was 
 disappointed. She herself had felt startled, she hardly 
 knew why, and yet, on second thoughts, she did, for she had 
 heard, that very day, some stories of the terribly licentious 
 life he led. 
 
 It so happened, strangely enough, that a friend of her 
 late mother came in to see her, and after a short preamble, 
 began warmly to advocate Kurt's cause. Only an hour 
 afterwards another one arrived, and another after that, all 
 bent on the same errand. He was certainly not like other 
 people, that must be confessed, but that he would make a 
 famous husband, each one was as certain as the other. As 
 to his immoral conduct, that was bad, it must be admitted ; 
 but it was most likely not worse than other people's. Why, 
 there were married men living in the town who were by no 
 m.eans all that they should be. The great difference was 
 that he did everything openly. Each one of the three 
 ladies spoke as strongly on the subject as the others, 
 and Tomasine began to be somewhat of the same 
 opinion. 
 
 John Kurt himself held aloof for a time, excepting so 
 far as that whatever walk he took to or from the town, and 
 they were not few, he always contrived to pass the Rendalens' 
 house, notwithstanding that they lived quite on one side, to 
 the left of the market-place, up towards the field. Every
 
 42   THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 time he passed up and down, he took off his hat, if there 
 were only a cat to be seen at the window. Beside this, he 
 sent a bouquet there every morning. The dawn was not 
 more certain to come than it was. Old Mariane, who re- 
 ceived it, had always some little thing to say about Toma- 
 sine, and he, on his part, generally let fall some special 
 remark, such as, for instance, " God bless your throats." 
 
 A very short time after her mother's especial friends had 
 called upon Tomasine to advocate John's cause, her own 
 followed their example. Some of them had in past days 
 taken quite an opposite view of him. They had spoken 
 of him almost with horror. They could not bear his 
 mendacious stories, or put up with his coarse language ; 
 or indeed with him, himself. He was " disgusting." 
 Now, however, they began to admit that there was some- 
 thing interesting in him all the same : a kind of demo- 
 niacal, overwhelming power. 
 
 The fact was that he had called upon them all, choosing first 
 the one whom he knew was most set against him. He told 
 her that he was well aware of this fact, and that he respected 
 her for it. It was quite true that he was a wretched, contemp- 
 tible fellow. But it was just for that very reason that he had 
 come to her, for she really was the most honest and clear- 
 sighted conscience in the town ; there was but one opinion 
 on that point. She really fims^ help him. She did not 
 know the whole history of his life, that was the fact. She 
 did not know how it was that from his boyhood upward he 
 had been misunderstood, and indeed continued to be so 
 still. And for that very reason would always remain an 
 oddity. But really it was hardly necessary for him to say 
 anything. She saw right through every one. 
 
 He told another that her hands were so plump, so dainty, 
 and round and soft, that one longed to nibble them with 
 one's coffee. 
 
 He swayed and turned them with his stream of talk, he 
 douched them cold, he blew them warm, he startled them, 
 and touched them. They did not completely lose their 
 heads. They knew perfectly well that it was not all honest 
 truth, spontaneous nature, but even that very fact worked 
 as an apology for him ; he did not think about sheltering 
 himself, and most people are flattering when they wish to 
 obtain anything.
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 43 
 
 A little time afterwards the whole town from one end to 
 the other was convulsed with laughter, for when, in the 
 course of the spring, a little sempstress declared Kurt to be 
 the father of her child, he acknowledged it before every one, 
 and had it brought with great state to church to be baptised, 
 giving it the name of Tomasine. 
 
 The amusement was renewed when he declared, 
 on being asked how he could possibly have done such 
 an extraordinary thing, that if he had any voice in 
 the matter. Lord help him, every child in the town should 
 be called either Tomas, or Tomasine. It was quite 
 touching. 
 
 Just about that time his father died under somewhat 
 strange circumstances. The old man had sent a message to 
 Tomasine, asking her the next time she went for an evening 
 walk, to be so kind as to come in to see him, as he was far 
 from well. Those two had been friends of old. Many 
 times, when she was a little girl, he had filled her pocket with 
 cherries. She always looked so fresh and healthy, and an 
 old gardener has an eye for such things. 
 
 When she went up there, she found him sitting in his room 
 on the left. It was the first time she had ever been in it. 
 The walls were hung with some stiff, and rather dark material, 
 apparently leather, which had at one time been painted and 
 gilded. In the corner by the window stood a large press, 
 a splendid piece of furniture, at least two hundred years old, 
 and most artistically carved. Quite in front of the window 
 was a clumsy unpainted table, littered over with papers, 
 samples of seeds, newspapers, and scraps of food. The old 
 man sat there, in an ancient armchair, with a short, broad 
 leather back. He got up, and insisted that she should take 
 it. He was dressed in his grey linen coat, his long apron, 
 and wore slippers down at heel. On his head he had his 
 wide-peaked cap, and a thick neckcloth wound round his 
 neck. He was rather hoarse, and he seemed ill as well. 
 " The spring was so sharp this year," he said. The tall, 
 gaunt man began to pace up and down between the table 
 near the window, and the bed beside the wall next the wide 
 hall, which divides the house in two. Up and down he 
 walked along the wall, past the great stove, with the two 
 " Oldenborgs " on it, both in enormous wigs, his steps keep- 
 ing time to the ticking of an old eight-day clock which hung
 
 44 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 on the wall near the stove. Just then it struck seven, with 
 a noisy chime. 
 
 The old man's bed was of freshly polished birch, con- 
 trasting with the old decrepid chairs set along the wall, with 
 a new leg or two, or half the back put in fresh. The wall 
 itself was hung with pictures, in which a reddish yellow arm, 
 or a brownish red dress^ showed themselves, but which other- 
 wise were absolutely black. 
 
 Konrad Kurt's blustering talk, as he walked up and down, 
 somewhat resembled the room, for it was a mixture of old 
 and new, most of the former ; and not without a touch ot 
 boasting about his family. About modern days he had less 
 to say, and it was more in the humbler style of his present 
 circumstances. He talked without his son's oaths and 
 imagery, but with no little skill. He romanced at one 
 moment, and sneered the next, as his son often did. Summa 
 summarum was, then, that the race was worn out, the stock 
 could no longer spread. If it were to be saved, it, and the 
 last of the inheritance, it must needs receive a graft; a 
 strong, new tree must be found. 
 
 Tomasine sat there for nearly two hours, and listened to 
 him. She let her supper hour, and the time for her evening 
 classes, go by. He would not let her leave. A maid- 
 servant opened a door from the inner passage to ask if she 
 should lay the table, but was sent away. 
 
 As Tomasine returned along the avenue, where the road 
 was guttered by the rain, and the storm whisded through 
 the old trees, she felt as though she had just come from a 
 mausoleum. In it she had met one single living man, 
 wandering round and gazing on his dead. She had not the 
 slightest desire to join him there. She turned and looked 
 back at the great, dirty, plastered building, with its small 
 windows. " No," she said aloud. 
 
 Next morning, when she came into the parlour, John 
 Kurt's bouquet had not arrived. It gave her a pang, she 
 hardly knew why, for that was after all exactly what she 
 wished. But was it? She was trying to make this clear to 
 herself, when her father came in from his morning walk. 
 He was very pale— he told her that old Kurt had died in tiie 
 night. They had found him in the morning, lifeless, in his 
 chair before the table. 
 
 John Kurt came in a few minutes later; he did not speak,
 
 SAILS IN SIGHT. 45 
 
 but flung himself down, crying. He cried so violently that 
 both she and her father were frightened. Then — the self- 
 accusation that followed ! 
 
 He came again every day and poured out his heart with 
 affecting vehemence. He went nowhere else, spoke to no 
 one but to them. Just to them and his own people. With 
 these he worked day and night to build a temple of flowers 
 on the great flight of steps before the house, down which the 
 old man would be carried. This erection of flowers was 
 wonderfully lovely ; it was talked of far and near, and the 
 evening before the funeral, numbers came up to see it, 
 Tomasine and her father among them. The dead man's 
 friend. Dean Green, was one of the first to come up the 
 avenue, and, after him, half the inhabitants of the mountain, 
 both grown people and children, to look, to shew their 
 gratitude, and to say " Good-bye." They had been to see 
 the clergyman first. Old Green stood on the steps, and 
 spoke of him who had loved flowers so dearly, who had 
 gone from our spring to the eternal one. Every one was 
 moved, and the son was obliged to go away. 
 
 The next day John went straight from the funeral to the 
 Rendalens'. But he did not find Tomasine at home. He 
 was so disappointed at this, so honestly distressed, that he 
 stood silent for a long time, and at last let fall that he had 
 no one now — no, not one single being. He only wished with 
 all his heart that he could be laid in his grave too. He was 
 nothing but a trouble even to those he cared for most. He 
 saw tliat now. And he turned away. This quite touched 
 old Mariane, to whom it had all been said, and when 
 Tomasine came in at last, she related it so feelingly that 
 her mistress was touched as well. The fact was that 
 Tomasine had not wished to be at home. She feared him. 
 She had not the courage to face his emotion, which might 
 perhaps lead him in a special direction. 
 
 She repented it now. She hastily took off her spectacles 
 and wiped them, put them on again, and looked at herself in 
 the glass. Was not she big and strong enough to hazard it ? 
 She stood there and weighed the question. 
 
 The fashion of that day was to wear a bodice drawn in at 
 the waist with a belt, and crinoline. 
 
 She pushed her belt down with both her strong hands ; 
 she had taken off her loose, white sleeves, as soon as she
 
 46 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 came in. Those belonging to her dress were wide and 
 open, so that her wrist, and the lower part of her arm, con- 
 trasted very prettily with her black dress. She delighted 
 in their strength, as those do who are much given to 
 gymnastic exercises. But her eyes turned involuntarily to 
 her face, her weak point. It was incredibly ugly. That 
 flat nose, those thick lips, and that hair which was the 
 colour of her forehead — you could hardly see it — and those 
 eyebrows, light, short bristles, so thin that they were quite 
 invisible. Ah ! no, it would never do to make herself of 
 importance. John Kurt loved her so heartily, and was 
 unhappy ! . . . . absolutely alone, and so unhappy ! . . . . 
 And his father had made her sit down in his own chair ! 
 
 Shortly afterwards old Mariane walked up the avenue as 
 fast as she could. She halted once though, and took out of 
 a newspaper a dainty, ah ! such a dainty letter. She must 
 look at it. 
 
 When it was put into John Kurt's hand, he tore it hastily 
 open, and took out a sheet of thick English note-paper — 
 with a dove on it — the paper was very good, and the dove 
 well-designed. He read the following words, hastily 
 written in a practised liand : 
 
 "Iwiiidoit. 
 
 Tomashie." 
 
 John turned to Mariane. "Now, what a man father was," 
 he said ; '" if he had not died just now, small chance if I had 
 ever got her." 
 
 He would have married the next day. To his immense 
 astonishment, Tomasine would not hear of it. Nor even 
 that the marriage should be the next week. She now 
 gave up all her pupils to begin to prepare herself for her 
 new position. She was completely ignorant of domestic 
 matters, except so far as to be able to keep her own things 
 in order. From a child she bad only cared for her book. 
 John Kurt was delighted when he heard of her deficiencies; 
 /le could do everything. Did any one doubt it.^* He could 
 wash up and clean, were it parlour or kitchen, better than 
 any housemaid or cook in Norway. He pushed old Mariane 
 suddenly on one side, and showed them, bit by bit. He did 
 everything as quickly, nicely, and carefully as the handiest 
 girl — that was a fact. Besides this, he could cook all
 
 HOME LIFE. 47 
 
 sorts of food ; dishes which they did not know by name. 
 He could roast and boil, knit, sew, and darn : he could 
 wash clothes ; starch and iron. He, and no one else, would 
 teach Tomasine. Why should they not begin at once? 
 And so it was settled. He himself made purchases, and 
 invited friends to the Rendalens'. The days which followed 
 were the most amusing the family had ever spent. The 
 whole town was filled with rumours. Friends and friends' 
 friends came to look on. And to listen ! What noise and 
 fun! What tales of where he learnt it all! Sometimes 
 among the gold-diggers in Australia, in constant peril of his 
 life. Then on a Nile boat, with a party of English, where 
 the cook directed the whole expedition. Sometimes in 
 Brazil, at an hotel among the niggers ; or in the mines in 
 South America. Then suddenly he was at Hayti, on board 
 a large steamer ! Then deserting from her. He did not 
 spare local colouring, or indeed any colouring; coarseness 
 and vituperation rained down like fire from heaven on the 
 different places and people. 
 
 But the work went on. Tomasine was assistant cook, scul- 
 lery maid, ironer, and darner. Even in the last he was her 
 superior. He worked just as quickly as he talked, and just as 
 eagerly. He interrupted himself with the most perfect good 
 temper whenever she made a mistake, for she was really very 
 clumsy. He captivated them all now, without exception. 
 But surely this teaching and fun could go on as well or 
 better up at " Tlie Estate." By degrees every one agreed to 
 this, and Tomasine gave in. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOME LIFE. 
 
 They were married one afternoon at home. Only the 
 family was present, and after leaving the table they walked 
 up to "The Estate," arm-in-arm. It could not be concealed 
 that tliere was much feverish excitement. Indeed, it was 
 the more apparent because they wished all to go on as if 
 nothing were on foot. 
 
 Hardly anything had been done up at the house.
 
 48 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Things were to be arranged by degrees. The first room 
 on the left was still a sitting-room and dining-room. 
 The next one a bedroom. The best furniture of every 
 description which the house contained, some of it old 
 and valuable, was collected there. The leather hangings 
 on the walls had been washed, but were not much the 
 better for it. The heavy carved ceiling, on the contrary, 
 was much improved by being cleaned. An attempt had also 
 been made to clean the pictures, but not altogether with 
 success ; as the frames had at the same time been regilt they 
 presented altogether a ghastly appearance. This was almost 
 all that had been done. A bath-room had been fitted up 
 next to the bedroom, shortly after John Kurt returned home. 
 This was now divided, so as also to form a dressing-room. 
 The kitchen, on the other side of the hall which divided the 
 house lengthwise, was like a huge dancing-room ; a new Eng- 
 lish kitchener had been fixed there, and the newly married 
 pair proposed to spend a great part of their time before it. 
 
 For a few days they were quite alone, nor did they go 
 out later on. But one or two ladies at a time were invited. 
 And soon they were all as merry up there as they had 
 been before down at the Rendalens'. Just previous to her 
 wedding, and for a short time afterwards, Tomasine was 
 thoroughly in love with John Kurt ; entirely wrapped up 
 in him, absolutely happy, and in boisterous spirits. 
 
 But this exuberance was contrary to her nature, and 
 did not suit her. She looked excited and almost vulgar. 
 She felt this when her friends looked at her. Indeed, 
 her glass had already told her the same thing. It made 
 an impression on her, but she put it aside. It returned 
 now and then, like a secret dread. She tried naturally 
 to shout it down, and only made things worse. Her 
 friends whispered that she had become disagreeable; 
 she, who had pleased by her unconscious manner, was now 
 either strangely abstracted, or boisterous. 
 
 One small thing excited observation. None of her 
 friends were admitted further than the sitting-room and 
 kitchen ; all was carefully locked up. She positively 
 kept watch to see if they watched her. Very soon, 
 however, some one spied on them all. It became im- 
 possible for any one to be alone with Tomasine witliout 
 John Kurt opening the door, and putting in his head, but
 
 HOME LIFE. 
 
 49 
 
 no sound was heard before he made his appearance. All 
 the locks had been examined and oiled, and the doors 
 opened noiselessly. If they walked along the broad paths 
 in the garden, he came out unexpectedly from behind a 
 hedge. If they whispered when he was present, he became 
 restless and perverse, not exactly with them, but in such a 
 way as to leave no doubt of his meaning. He generally 
 poured out his wrath over Tomasine's untidy habits. Her 
 friends thought either that they were in the way, or that 
 something was going on which they would rather be away 
 from. They came more and more rarely. 
 
 Tomasine was the last to understand her husband's 
 uneasiness. She fancied at first that it was only to scare 
 them, that he came upon them in that way. His complaints 
 of her untidiness were merited. One has to learn to keep 
 everything tidy about one. Later, when there could be no 
 mistake, she asked herself if he were jealous of her friends. 
 In that case he ought to have been so before ; they came 
 oftener then than now. Was he afraid, then ? Afraid of 
 what ? That they should talk about him ? What could they 
 say? She knew as she asked it. He was out at the 
 moment, so that she had time to cool down a httle. It was 
 not her nature to come to hasty determinations, nor was it 
 clear to her how she ought to take it, or what rights she 
 had, or had not, in her married life. She had never spoken 
 to any one on the subject, never read about it. The pain 
 lessened litde by little as she pondered. She took up her 
 work again, and tried to appear as if nothing had happened. 
 Kurt, however, observed at once that her manner was dif- 
 ferent. From that time forward he sometimes saw that she 
 had been crying. Every time he came in he asked if any 
 one had been there. '* No." Once she heard him, a little 
 while afterwards, ask the gardener if any one had been with 
 " the Missis " whilst he was out. 
 
 He was shy with her and guarded, actually uneasy. But 
 he could not continue this long, and without warning be- 
 came impatient and rough ; then repented his violence and 
 begged her pardon twenty times, and this again and again. \ 
 
 Tomasine was not nervous, so that she was neither 
 frightened by the former, nor did the latter make her alter 
 her behaviour. She was friendly, but always reserved. So 
 things drifted on towards a storm. They both knew it. 
 
 D
 
 so THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 The changes from cold to hot became more sudden, the 
 squalls which preceded them heavier, the stillness and sultri- 
 ness which followed them more dangerous. Yet in the 
 midst of it all he could be so wonderfully kind, so naturally 
 bright and considerate, that sometimes she forgot all pre- 
 sentiments, and gave herself up to the hope that, under her 
 quiet guardianship, which he quite understood, their life 
 might at last become what she realised by an ordinary, 
 honourable married life. 
 
 One afternoon he came in from the garden, where he had 
 worked all day. He wished to change his clothes, for he 
 was invited to a men's dinner in the town. He went into 
 his bedroom, took off his coat and waistcoat, came back 
 again and talked of taking a bath, walked up and down as 
 though considering something. Tomasine felt that things 
 were not safe. She was herself dressed to visit a friend in 
 the town, and he looked closely at her. She thought it 
 would be wiser to slip away, but when he saw that she was 
 preparing to start, he suggested that she should wait for him, 
 and that they might go down together. She excused herself 
 on the plea that she was expected. " There would be time 
 enough for gossip, she could help him a little first." She in- 
 quired how. This he would not submit to. She had no 
 business to a^k questions. Beside that, she was not obedient. 
 She had not learnt that yet. She ought to understand that 
 now she had a master, and that she must obey him " in all 
 things." It was the Bible itself that said so. By way of 
 answer, she put on her bonnet which lay ready on the table, 
 and took up her mantle and parasol. On this he became 
 furious, and asked her if she thought he had not observed 
 her. She thought herself so much better than he was, and was 
 therefore constantly spying on him. It was certainly true 
 that she had not had the opportunities of leading the life he 
 had, but that was in reality the only difference between them. 
 At the bottom she was exactly the same as he was, pre- 
 cisely, so she really need not keep up this farce any longer. 
 This came so unexpectedly to Tomasine, that she cried out 
 "Boor," took up her things, and turned to leave the room. 
 The door leading into the hall was behind her, he sprang 
 to it, turned the key, and took it out. Then going to the 
 other doors, he fastened them, keeping the keys, and as well 
 as this, he closed all the windows.
 
 HOME LIFE 51 
 
 " What are you thinking of?" she asked, turning deadly 
 white, and taking off her spectacles. She forgot her bonnet. 
 
 " You shall learn for once what you really are," he 
 answered, and to her consternation he called her by the 
 worst name which can be given to a woman. And, as he 
 spoke, he came so close to her that she could feel his breath 
 on her face. He said things which stung her like scalding 
 water. It was to such a wretch she had given herself. Her 
 close proximity and the scent of her best clothes gave him 
 an inspiration. Like lightning it flashed upon him, that the 
 time had come to humble her. She thought too much of 
 herself, as she stood there with her strong figure. She dared 
 to wish to be independent. She was his — his thing. He 
 could do whatever he liked with her. But she put herself 
 on the defensive. He warned her first. He asked what she 
 was thinking of — of coercing h'm ? She ! Suddenly he 
 screamed out, "I am not afraid of your cat's eyes." 
 
 Now a fight began in the old Kurt house — between a 
 Kurt and his wife, with all the strength possessed by two 
 human beings — and on his side with the recklessness which 
 disappointed love of rule and thwarted will can give : 
 entirely alone, with closed windows and doors, and without 
 a word uttered. The table was overthrown, and everything 
 on it spilt or broken, chairs were knocked over, the new 
 sofa pushed far out along the floor. Down they went them- 
 selves, but were up again directly. They got across to the 
 other side of the room, knocking against the heavy clock ; it 
 swayed and fell, striking him on the shoulder and head, so 
 that he was obliged to pause and recover himself. She had 
 time to try a door, or at least to alter her position, but she 
 did neither ; she looked at herself, for she had hardly a 
 whole garment upon her. Her hair hung dishevelled about 
 her, and she felt pain in her head. The only thing she did, 
 however, was to free herself from the remains of her crinoline, 
 which she threw from her, and which caught in the legs of 
 the table. She felt that she was bleeding. He had struck 
 her on the mouth and nose, and the scratches smarted. They 
 set to again. This time he knocked her down at once, but 
 he gained little by it. For he was not so much stronger 
 than she, that he could afford to expend his strength without 
 soon losing all that he had gained. Hardly was one of her 
 hands free before she was near him again. She was as agile
 
 52 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 as a cat ; he moved slowly. He was breathless, and deadly 
 white, as if he were going to faint. She saw this as she 
 stood before him, in her rags. She was breathing hard as 
 well, but could still go on. He now heard her speak for 
 the first time. It was all she could do to say between her 
 gasps for breath : " Won't you — try — once — more ? " He 
 went backwards towards a chair, the only one left standing, 
 and sank down on it. He did not look at her, but sat there, 
 panting and overcome. It was some time before one or 
 two long breaths showed that he was beginning to recover 
 himself. She placed herself by the stove, holding her rags 
 about her, and asked him to open the bedroom door ; she 
 wanted to get some clothes. He did not answer. She 
 scoffed at his utter weakness and misery. He listened 
 without a word ; he pointed at her, and his face expressed 
 how hideous she was. His spite at last gave him words. 
 She looked, he said, as she stood there in her rags and with 
 her hair torn, like the roughest and most disgusting of 
 drunken women. But he put no colour into what he said, 
 nor a single oath. "Can't you swear now?" she asked. 
 He took this quietly ; merely got up and walked slowly to the 
 bedroom ; took the key out of his pocket, and opened the 
 door. As he went in he looked at her, then fastened it 
 behind him, leaving her standing there. She heard him go 
 into the bath-room and take a shower bath, and then dress 
 himself. She sat down and waited. After a long time he 
 came out again, ready for the dinner, locked the door behind 
 him and withdrew the key, put his hands in his pockets, and 
 began to whistle. He went past her, across the overthrown 
 furniture and other litter on the floor, without attempting to 
 pick up anything, finally striding over the clock-case to 
 reach the outer door. " You will find plenty to amuse you 
 here," he said. He unlocked the door and locked it again 
 outside. She heard him take away the key. 
 
 All the people about the place thought that they had both 
 gone out, for everything was fastened — even the sitting-room 
 doors, which was not, as a rule, done. By nine o'clock perfect 
 silence reigned over the homestead, both within and without. 
 It was late in August, and there was no moon. 
 
 At ten o'clock a man walked hurriedly up the avenue. He 
 saw no light in any part of the great building. He mounted 
 the steps and entered the hall, where the darkness obliged
 
 HOME LIFE. 53 
 
 him to grope his way to the room-door. He was evidently 
 unfamiUar with the place. He knocked, but received no 
 answer. He tried the door, it was fast. He knocked again, 
 thundered, waited, but no one came. Again he knocked, 
 louder than before, and called ''Tomasine." 
 
 " Yes," was answered at once from within. 
 
 A moment later, close by the door, " Is that you, father? " 
 
 "Can you not open the door?" 
 
 He knew by her voice that she was crying. 
 
 " Where is the key, then ? " 
 
 "John took it with him when he went out." 
 
 A moment's silence, and then the question, " Has he 
 locked you in, then ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the answer amid her sobs. 
 
 She heard him turn away again and descend the steps, 
 and, to her astonishment, go away without a single word. 
 
 She needed some one so much. It was unbearable. 
 She began to feel frightened, for it must have some meaning. 
 Why did he go? Where was he going? To meet Kurt! 
 What would happen ? The blood began to circulate again 
 in her half-clad body, for as Kurt had left her she still 
 remained. She hurried to the window, but could see 
 nothing, and at the same moment she heard some one on 
 the steps again. She ran to the door, but could not tell by 
 the footsteps who was coming, they advanced so cautiously. 
 
 " Is it you, father?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, it is I, with the keys," he answered. 
 
 He came in, and she fell sobbing on his breast. She 
 began to speak, but he interrupted her. 
 
 " Yes, yes, you have nothing more to be frightened about." 
 Then he told her plainly and shortly that John Kurt was 
 dead. " They are now at the steps, with the body." 
 
 Partly from her father, partly at a later time from other 
 people, she learned that John Kurt had eaten and drunk 
 heavily at dinner, becoming more and more excited. On 
 leaving the table he swore by life and death that he would 
 go to a disreputable house. That would be such devilish 
 good fun for Tomasine. They tried to control him, but he 
 became perfectly beside himself, staggered forward, and fell 
 dead. 
 
 No floral temple was built on the steps for John Kurt to 
 be laid in.
 
 ( 54 ) 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FIRST RESULTS, AND THOSE THAT FOLLOWED. 
 
 In the days that followed, several friends, both of Tomasine 
 and of her mother, came to express their sympathy and offer 
 help, but she refused to see any one. 
 
 During all that afternoon when she had sat locked in her 
 room, robbed of her clothes, her youth, her self-respect, 
 trembhng for her life, she had called to mind that at that 
 moment John Kurt was sitting at table in the best society of 
 the town. If society had not approved John Kurt, she 
 would never, inexperienced girl that she was, have been 
 sitting there. Society had surrendered her to him. Yes, 
 surrender, that was the word ; and yet, if she were not mis- 
 taken, every one was fond of her and respected her. She 
 would never see them again. If she had been free, she 
 would have left the country. Her own fault ? She saw it 
 saw it. She would never show her face again. 
 
 Now she was free ! But something fresh bound her. A 
 terrible uncertainty. Was she enceinte, or was she not ? 
 Would she perhaps bring another insane being into the 
 world ? For now that John was gone, she wished to think that 
 he had been mad, like several of his family. Would she give 
 birth to a child whose nature might combine any possibilities, 
 and afterwards be bound to it for the rest of her life, because 
 those people down in the town had surrendered her, and she 
 had not understood herself? 
 
 In the course of a few weeks she became the shadow of 
 her former self. 
 
 It was wonderful, almost as soon as uncertainty changed 
 to the certainty that she was to become a mother, a feeling of 
 solemnity came with the decision she formed ; she did not 
 understand how it was that she had not discovered so clear, 
 so natural a thing before. The being under her bosom 
 should determine the question ; if it were a miserable little 
 wretch everything would be at an end, she would not live to 
 nourish such a brat ; but if the child combined the qualities 
 of her own honourable race with what was best in his, it 
 would be a great, great boon that she was left alone with it. 
 At nil events, she must wait to see.
 
 FIRST RESULTS. 55 
 
 Tomasine was awakened, and from this time a natural 
 grandeur began to develop itself in her. She had borne 
 both the actual and mental struggles alone, alone she 
 regulated her own character. It required time, for her 
 thoughts did not move quickly. She ate, rested, and re- 
 gained all her vigour. So finally everything was prepared. 
 She first called in the head gardener, a handsome, fair man, 
 with a determined manner and great powers of self-reliance. 
 He was no other than Andreas Berg, whose Sunday jacket 
 John Kurt had cut to pieces. He had remained on " The 
 Estate " ever since. Andreas Berg had borne everything with 
 the hasty-tempered old Kurt, who would undoubtedly have 
 made him his heir, if his son had not returned. In later 
 times he had put up with all John's freaks, and bursts of 
 passion. 
 
 Tomasine asked him to sit down. She inquired if he had 
 any other intention, than to stay with her. 
 
 " No, he wished to stay, if Fru Kurt would allow him.'' 
 
 She could depend on him, then ? 
 
 " Yes, that she could." 
 
 The first thing she had to ask him was not to call her Fru 
 Kurt any longer, but Fru Rendalen, and to get the others to 
 do the same. Their eyes met. Hers shone uncertainly 
 behind her spectacles ; his in wide open astonishment. But 
 when he saw that her glasses were gradually dimmed by the 
 tears, which could not find a free course, and that her flat 
 nose worked until the spectacles slipped down on to her 
 cheek, he hastened to say, " Very good. That shall be done." 
 
 She took off her glasses, wiped her eyes first, and them 
 afterwards, and began, after a pause, with the next question. 
 
 " Dear Berg," she said, and put on her glasses, " could 
 you not, quite quietly, so that no one would notice, have 
 all these portraits destroyed — indeed, all the pictures, for I 
 cannot always distinguish them ? Have them all burnt, or 
 disposed of in some way, so that they do not remain here, and 
 as soon as you can manage it. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Frue, but . . . ." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " It would be rather difficult if no one is to see." 
 
 She considered for a while. 
 
 " Even if it is noticed, it may be done all the same. 
 Berg."
 
 56 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 " Very good. Then of course it shall be done." 
 And done it was, with an infernal smell of burnt canvas 
 and burnt leather, and a general smell of burning. A soft 
 breeze drove it one afternoon all over the town, the smoke 
 drifting almost to the works, out by the river-banks. She 
 then invited her father, with all his family, to come up to her. 
 That was done at once. She handed over all the house- 
 keeping to old Mariane, and let her have what help she 
 wanted. The rest of the family lived in the rooms behind 
 her own. 
 
 Soon afterwards an advertisement appeared in the local 
 paper : 
 
 FRU TOMASINE RENDALEN 
 Will resiinie her Instrtictions in English, French, mid German. 
 Information to be obtained at " The Estate.^'' 
 
 She changed her name with all legal formalities. Besides 
 her classes, of which she had as many as she wished, she 
 studied book-keeping, and soon herself began to keep the 
 accounts of the house, garden, and dairy. At the same time 
 she began to learn a little about the working of the business, 
 the accounts of which she kept. She wished to qualify her- 
 self to undertake it. Perhaps she would never have to do 
 so, but it gave her present occupation. It left no time for 
 brooding ; that was the main thing. She was so tired every 
 evening, that she slept the moment her head was on the 
 pillow, and, like all thoroughly healthy people, she was wide 
 awake directly she opened her eyes, and was into her bath the 
 next instant. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, as time went on, the more oppres- 
 sive became the secret thoughts which were ever present 
 to her mind. She had cleared away every trace of the Kurt 
 family, she had surrounded herself with her own. Every 
 time that a thought of the former presented itself to her 
 mind, she met it with some thought of the latter. She knew 
 nothing of her mother's family, but as a child she had been 
 in Rendalen, and there seen her father's relations, and lis- 
 tened to their sagas. There was nothing remarkable about 
 them. The family disposition, even and rather heavy, had 
 every now and then, after a too long period of general respect, 
 or when pressed to the uttermost, come out into something 
 uncommon, but otherwise they were an orderly race, toiling
 
 FIRST RESULTS. 57 
 
 on with quiet perseverance. But everything she knew 
 about them, appearance as well as disposition, she placed in 
 opposition to all which could come from the side of the 
 Kurts. The Kurts were dark, the Rendalens essentially 
 fair ; fair in hair and complexion, fair and open in disposi- 
 tion. She had such practice in moving pictures in and out 
 of her mind, that the very moment a Kurt memory intruded, 
 it was driven away by a commanding fair Rendalen without 
 eyebrows. The result was, that dark or light became a sort 
 of finality with her. The outward appearance was a sign of 
 the inward disposition ; the first sight of her child, therefore, 
 might well determine her life. Her whole anxiety centred 
 itself upon that first moment. 
 
 The nearer the great moment came, the more her dread 
 increased. Her ordinary occupations no longer sufficed to 
 deaden it. She dismissed her pupils and took part in the 
 work, both in the house and out of doors. The spring was 
 late that year, and in her ardour she let herself take cold ; 
 she struggled against it as long as she could, but at last she 
 was obliged to keep indoors, and take to her bed. And now 
 her anxiety so entirely got the better of her that she fancied, 
 before the time, that the birth-pains were upon her, and 
 became absolutely light-headed. 
 
 She again began the struggle with John Kurt, and even 
 when, completely exhausted, her mind became clear, her 
 anxiety by no means subsided. The first sight of the child 
 would be enough, and in her distress and desperation she 
 came to believe that dark or light hair would be decisive. 
 " If it is dark,'' she thought, "I am doomed — I shall be unable 
 to bend the child. And it wi'// be dark, the Kurt race is 
 so strong. Its fierce strength has already impressed itself 
 too deeply upon me, its fancies overshadow me. I cannot 
 even think as I will." 
 
 She tried to gain comfort from the answering thought that 
 old Konrad Kurt had been worthy. " There are good quali- 
 ties in the Kurt family ; seeds of good which perhaps will 
 grow again in the child which will be born. Even if the 
 good be not unmixed — I do not ask so much — but if it may 
 be the stronger." She prayed for it — ah ! how she prayed ! 
 — until she remembered that it was too late — it had 
 been decided long ago. She constantly saw the back of a 
 neck brooding over her — the neck in the picture of the
 
 58 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 first Kurt. She used her old power, to call up images of her 
 own people against it, but the fair race would not shine. 
 The neck remained. It had no right to be there, it was no 
 longer in the Kurt family ; neither Konrad Kurt had it, nor 
 John. 
 
 "Take away that neck," she cried to those near her. 
 And with the sound of " Away, take it away," new fancies 
 shaped themselves around her. John Kurt appeared, to tell 
 her that he would never go away. She would never, by all 
 the devils, get rid of him. His white forehead gleamed, and 
 he swore till nothing but r-r-r-r thrilled and drummed close 
 up beside her cheek. 
 
 To such a degree was she exhausted by this inward 
 struggle, that it was a relief when the birth-pains began in 
 reality, imperiously commanding all else to stand aside. 
 
 All fever had left her, and she bravely gathered her 
 strength together, but it was less than any one supposed. 
 Therefore it was a long time before she heard a feeble cry, 
 and "A son, Frue, you have a son ; " and afterwards, gently 
 and kindly, " Tomasine, you have a son." 
 
 A gentle peace had filled her. It was soon broken. She 
 collected her thoughts at the word " son " — she had a son. 
 The wave of peace broke against a wave of dread. " His 
 hair ? " she contrived to whisper. She could not say more. 
 " Red, Frue." She had a dim idea that that might be either 
 dark or light, perhaps more likely dark. It was not clear — 
 it was And everything passed away from her. 
 
 For some time those near did not notice her. No one 
 imagined that this powerful woman could be fainting, and 
 therefore some time elapsed before she was brought round, 
 and there was some alarm. It was only by degrees that she 
 realised what had happened — what the whimpering was 
 she heard somewhere — why she had a remembrance of pain. 
 The child was now clothed, and they lifted it up to her, but 
 still not near enough. She could not see it properly. She 
 wished to sign to them to bring it nearer, but it was difficult ; 
 she could neither do it with her voice, nor by moving hei 
 head, and she did not think of her hand, or perhaps she 
 could not move it. But some one was there who under- 
 stood, and held the baby up to her, so that it touched her 
 cheek, just where she had felt its father's breath. She felt 
 something soft, something warm, something delicate, the
 
 FIRST RESULTS. 59 
 
 softest thing she had ever touched. She heard a cluck, a 
 whimper, and now she saw — the eyebrows, they were her 
 own, her family's light sparse bristles. 
 
 It was too much joy, too much happiness. Her blood 
 circulated more quickly, and soon the warmth came to her 
 cheeks, the tears to her eyes. She lay there weeping quietly, 
 while her little one was held fast to her motherly breast. 
 
 With God's help, she would try to accomplish the rest.
 
 Ill 
 
 A LECTURE
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DETHRONED. 
 
 Fru Tomasine Rendalen herself carried the child to the 
 font, and gave him her own name. 
 
 Little Tomas's cradle stood by the side of the bed in 
 which she slept. The room was both her reading and 
 working room. The other remained vacant as though only 
 for show. Through her friends in England, France, and 
 Germany she obtained books in three languages on the 
 bringing up of children. But she soon laid them aside ; 
 they were all either too vague, or too dogmatic. She began 
 to widen her acquirements in other respects. She wished 
 to be his teacher in everything. But, from the time that he 
 was six months old her work was much interrupted, for he 
 was a most restless child. The doctor assured her that, so 
 far as he could see, the boy ailed nothing. He did not 
 scream from pain. If, at the moment he opened his eyes, for 
 example, the person he wanted was not there — that is to say, 
 the one who could give him food — he not only screamed till 
 she came, which was to be expected, but after she had come 
 and had forced him to drink, he screamed while the milk 
 ran out of his mouth, and continued to give blows, slaps, 
 and spiteful cries. He could not forget. If there were 
 anything he did not like, he screamed himself black in the 
 face, and made himself rigid. Sometimes it seemed to 
 Tomasine as though she had a log on her lap, and not a 
 human being. When he was nine months old, she was 
 obliged to give up nursing him, for he kept her in such a 
 state of irritation and terror, that his health became affected 
 through her. The struggle which ensued on this, was 
 terrible. It lasted altogether for three days and nights,
 
 64 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 during which time he could only be induced to touch a drop 
 of the strange food by artifice. 
 
 As Tomasine hung about in the outer room, or in the 
 passage, listening to the hoarse screams, for he had no voice 
 left — not allowed to see him, or go to his help — she remem- 
 bered more than once, with shame, what she had thought 
 and determined before he was born. The boy cried inside, 
 the mother outside, and no one could get her away. 
 And this, his first great fight in the world, to keep possession 
 of his mother's breast, had no happy influence upon him, for 
 fi cm that time he tried, more than ever, to get everything by 
 screaming. 
 
 Tomasine was a strong, long-suffering woman, but she 
 became thin and nervous. She hoped that things would 
 improve as he grew bigger, and waited till he should be a 
 year old ; but still had to wait, for the stronger he grew the 
 more persistently he screamed. Some new method must 
 be adopted. The specialists did not touch on this, or else 
 she had not understood them. She consulted experienced 
 people, and was advised to keep him continually amused. 
 That answered for a while. He was quiet when he saw any- 
 thing new, but he would not look at the same thing more 
 than twice at the outside. If she forgot this, he became so 
 furious that the very newest thing in the world would not 
 pacify him. Some one else advised her to let the child 
 scream as much as he liked. Eternal Powers, how he yelled ! 
 If he had been chosen as the representative of all the sorrow 
 and trouble in the town he could not have done better, 
 ' No," thought Tomasine, " that will torture the life out of 
 oth him and me." So she turned to the exactly opposite 
 course, and tried to guess his thoughts before he had formed 
 them, and indulged him in everything. This helped, but if 
 she guessed wrong, there was no use in guessing right 
 afterwards. 
 
 At last his maternal retainer and slave, like many before 
 her, was brought to such a state of distress and despair, that 
 she determined to revolt. The little despot must be de- 
 throned. The revolution broke out with six slaps on his 
 lit'le person. All the horrors of a civil war at once showed 
 themselves. But six, seven, eight to twelve slaps followed. 
 To give up one's power before one's life, is hard even for 
 a not-two-years-old tyrant, so the battle lasted several 
 
 i;
 
 DETHRONED. 65 
 
 hours until — he gave in ? No, that he would not do, but he 
 fell asleep. 
 
 Tomasine was so worn out by months of worry, anxiety, 
 and sleepless nights, and finally by the fight itself, that she 
 was trembling and bathed in perspiration. She stood over 
 him as he slept, as David is said to have stood over Saul. 
 She grieved for his fallen greatness. She heard him sob 
 as he lay there in his helplessness. She saw the last tear 
 dry on his cheek, the convulsive movements of his chubby 
 hands, and the twitching of the thin skin of his head. Who 
 should be good to him if not she? How she longed for 
 his waking, that she might let him see her face with its 
 gentlest expression, and caress him, and practise all those 
 small arts which are the delight of every mother ! More 
 than all, she longed to make him screw up his mouth for a 
 kiss. When he did that, he was irresistible. 
 
 At last he began to move and to rub his hand over his 
 nose. In her impatience she put her hands under him, and 
 laid her face down to his head, to breathe the warm fragrance 
 from it. 
 
 He screwed up his mouth for a grimace ; despair rose 
 darker and darker in his eyes, and at last he gave a shriek, 
 a frightful and frightening shriek, while he thrust himself 
 away from her, with hands, head, and body. 
 
 She was obliged hastily to let go of him, and call her 
 sister. To her, the little arms were raised at once, and he 
 pressed himself closely to her, so as to be thoroughly safe. 
 
 The forsaken mother stood and looked on. She felt as 
 though she had been driven round the whole compass, and 
 was now at the same point from which she had started 
 some months before. Her first feeling was one of miserable 
 helplessness, then came a strong sense of shame, and sud- 
 denly she snatched the boy away from her sister, and dressed 
 him herself, whether he would or no. 
 
 He screamed the whole time, and when he was dressed, 
 and would not take food from her, a perfect hail of slaps and 
 rain of scolding ensued, nor did she leave off till he really 
 struggled to be quiet ; checking the sound so suddenly 
 that he gasped for breath as though he were choking. By 
 degrees the rebellion was reduced to subdued sounds strongly 
 restrained ; whenever they broke out again they were forced 
 back. At last he showed that he was entirely subdued by 
 
 £
 
 66 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 screwing up his mouth for a kiss, to prove to her that it really 
 was against his will if a cry every now and then escaped 
 him. It was comically touching. He was finally forced 
 to eat, and, now completely mastered, he sobbed himself to 
 sleep. 
 
 Tomasine went out for a walk, and on her return sat once 
 more, anxiously waiting for his awakening. He had hardly 
 opened his eyes, and seen her, before there were threatenings 
 of a prolonged howl, but he restrained it from fear ; nay, 
 he even held ou: his hands to her as she stood smiling over 
 him. There have been many more fortunate conquerors, 
 both before and since the time, when Fru Tomasine 
 Rendalen deposed her son, and seated herself on his throne. 
 Besides which, the pleasure was diminished by the know- 
 ledge that she should have done this at first, long, long ago ; 
 but all the same she was just as delighted with her tardy 
 victor)', as any general could have been with a more timely 
 one, and as she lay down that night, she was as weary and 
 as confident as the conqueror of a city. 
 
 At that time Tomas was a year and nine months old. 
 She thoroughly understood that this struggle would not be 
 the last, but with that knowledge came the conviction that 
 in the uncertain voyaging through which his whims had led 
 him, he had discovered his mother. From that time forward 
 she would be his mainland. She soon obtained a proof of 
 this. Whether it were in the intoxication of victory that she 
 began to wear a cap, or whether it were a long-nourished 
 plan for concealing the hair which had always annoyed her, 
 and putting something visible in its place, the fact remains 
 that the cap first appeared at this time. The boy must and 
 would have it oif. For his sake she had temporarily offered 
 up her spectacles, against which he had also waged war. 
 Eut she would not sacrifice her cap. Now many people are 
 content to lose the realities of power, but cannot bear to be 
 deprived of its symbols ; and to be able to lord it over his 
 mother's hair and head was a great, a strong proof of power, 
 which he would not give up. 
 
 And so a fight ensued, but he yielded before things had 
 reached a climax. His little hands were pushed back time 
 after time, and always with more force, notwithstanding his 
 screams, till suddenly he flung himself on her neck, and the 
 little war ended charmingly.
 
 DETHRONED. 67 
 
 She was a happy mother as she looked forward to his 
 second buthday. An English friend, with whom she ex- 
 changed letters from time to time, since she no longer 
 visited in the town, had sent her, for this great day, Charles 
 Dickens' "David Copperfield," at that time the most popular 
 novel in England. The book came a day too soon. She 
 read a great deal of it at once, and all the life-like forms 
 gathered themselves round little Tomas for his own day, 
 when he was to be dressed in new clothes from top to toe. 
 She dreamt of little Em'ly and little Tomas. She woke on his 
 birthday morning a little earlier than he. He was lying 
 quite still. He had not disturbed her the whole night, a 
 thing which did not happen once in two months. Proud 
 and happy, she gave him his birthday greeting. The first 
 hours passed in unbroken delight. At nine o'clock he was 
 sitting on the floor of the parlour, dressed in his new clothes 
 and surrounded by all the toys which she and her family 
 had given him. She herself sat by the window, dressed in 
 her best, reading " David Copperfield." She had tried 
 having the window open, to enjoy the fresh air, but the 
 spring day was rather cold. 
 
 After a time she was called into the kitchen. He never 
 liked her to leave him, but he was so occupied at that 
 moment, that she thought she might venture, though she 
 took the precaution of going through the bedroom and 
 across the hall into the kitchen. She left the kitchen-door 
 open, for fear he should think her too long gone, and begin 
 to call for her. 
 
 In the parlour all remained quiet, suspiciously quiet. He 
 had in fact closely observed the book that his mother was 
 reading, for, according to the English fashion, it had a bright- 
 coloured binding, with a picture on it. 
 
 He noticed that she put it down on the table, and felt 
 that he too should like to read a little of it, if he could do 
 so without interruption. He dropped his toys as soon as 
 ever he was alone, got up, and toddled off, pushed a stool 
 forward, when he found he could not reach up, pulled the 
 book on to the floor, and sat himself down beside it. 
 
 Some time elapsed before he again learnt, as he had done 
 previously, but had forgotten, that it is not easy to read 
 a number of pages at once, but, on the contrary, one should 
 take them one or two at a time ; that did very well. Then
 
 68 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 he tore them out of the book, they were so much easier to 
 read in that way. 
 
 After the first one or two, he took them out several at a 
 time, twenty in all, before his mother returned. They soon 
 had a difference of opinion over this style of reading. She 
 lost her temper, and took the book hastily from him, telling 
 him sharply, that he knew quite well that he ought not to 
 touch her books. He was frightened at first, but after a 
 while he stretched out both his hands and said, " Me book, 
 mama, me book." 
 
 She naturally took no notice of him, so he came up to 
 her and repeated very coaxingly, *' Me book, mama, me 
 book." *' No," she answered sharply, for unluckily the book 
 had been shamefully treated, just at the place where she was 
 reading. He waited a little, but began again, " Me book, 
 mama, me book." She remembered that it was his birth- 
 day, and answered him more gently, showing him what 
 harm he had done. He listened and answered, " Me book, 
 mama, me book." 
 
 Some sweets were lying there ; she gave him some, which 
 he ate up, saying,as he did so, " Me book, mama, me book." 
 She laid the book aside, took him up, and danced round 
 with him, then set him down among his toys, and went 
 back to smooth out the crumpled leaves. He was soon by 
 her side again, reaching up to the table with one hand, 
 while he steadied himself with the other : " Me book, mama, 
 me book." Once more she left her occupation, and fetched 
 his outdoor things in order to go out with him. 
 
 This he would not have on any terms. He made himself 
 as stiff as a poker, but she was determined that out he should 
 go. They remained in the garden for an hour, and he 
 amused himself while he was there. 
 
 While she was taking off his things again in the parlour, 
 he stretched his disengaged hand towards the table : " Me 
 book, mama, me book," saying it with the most coaxing 
 tone and look of which he was capable. She thought it the 
 best way to appear deaf to it, and gave herself up to cutting 
 bits of paper, in order to gum them over the torn leaves. It 
 was slow work, and all the time he stood, and begged, and 
 prayed, giving little stamps, and stretching himself up : " Me 
 book, mama, me book."
 
 DETHRONED. 69 
 
 " He will stop some time," she thought, but he was still 
 persevering when she had accomplished her task. 
 
 She was very anxious to leave his society for that of the 
 characters in the book, who were certainly much more 
 amusing, but she did not wish to be cross, and so began to 
 play the flute — that is to say, she moved her fingers as though 
 she were playing a piccolo, whistling at the same time ; a 
 performance in which she had a good deal of practice. 
 
 He pulled and dragged at her dress, and she replied with 
 her flute. She became quite merry over it, and her merri- 
 ment increased when he became angry, and called out " No, 
 no," to her playing, and cried, and hit her. The flute- 
 playing became much quicker ; he would not leave off, nor 
 would she ; the spirits of the Kurts were in every chink and 
 corner. Then the child threw himself down on his back 
 on the floor, drumming with his heels and screaming in 
 good earnest. She played on, but more softly, for she felt 
 that it was actually he who had won, while she was teasing 
 him. 
 
 She could not take up the old fight again at once. In 
 one moment the flute-playing changed to crying — hopeless, 
 inconsolable crying. The boy, who in the midst of his 
 anger, had kept a sharp watch on her, was so astonished 
 that he forgot to scream. She had been suddenly seized 
 by her old dread, and neither saw nor heard anything, till 
 she felt something warm against one of her hands. She had 
 let it hang as she flung herself backward in her misery, 
 raising the other to her face. She lifted her head, and 
 looked into a wondering face, the tear-stained face of her 
 own red-haired boy. As soon as he saw her look at him, 
 he put up his lips for a kiss, stretching out his hands to her. 
 So the little flat nose was lifted up to the big one, and she 
 murmured, and prattled, and fondled him, all over his fiice 
 and head, as he held his arms round her neck. She did not 
 take the book again. She kept him instead, and he never 
 once looked towards the table where it lay. That was their 
 last great struggle. There were a thousand lesser ones, of 
 course, but never one which lasted more than a few 
 minutes.
 
 ( 70 ) 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 ToMASiNE always had her boy under her own care ; the 
 Hvely, clever child needed a watchful eye ; but all the same 
 she looked forward to his fourth birthday with good courage, 
 and on that day something chanced, which made her form a 
 determination. 
 
 Tomas had had several playfellows ; as he was accus- 
 tomed to be alone he always wanted things his own way, so 
 he had not been very good-natured. 
 
 On his fourth birthday he received, among other presents, 
 a book about brothers and sisters, which told how good 
 brothers were to their sisters, so indulgent and helpful; this 
 was illustrated by sketches in which the little brother always 
 led his little sister by the hand. Tomas derived another 
 idea in the meantime from the book; he asked "Why he 
 had not a sister too? Could he not get one?" 
 
 Tomasine Rendalen had certainly often remembered 
 that he had a sister, but not as a matter which concerned 
 herself; it did not seem to her of any further consequence, 
 but he begged so continuously, that she began to think a 
 little more seriously about it. Suppose his sister should 
 be in want ? The property had been John Kurt's, and it had 
 prospered greatly, thanks to his own plan, that of extending 
 the gardens further up the hill, thus making them nearly 
 twice as large. John Kurt's child must be properly provided 
 for, there ought to be no doubt about it. 
 
 She made inquiries about the child, and learned that her 
 little namesake lived with her grandmother, Marit Stoen, 
 " Mother Stoa," as they called her, the widow of a pilot who 
 had gained a great reputation on that coast. Marit Stoen 
 lived up on the mountain, therefore to the left of "The 
 Estate": Tomasine decided to see the child. 
 
 As there was no hurry about it, she determined to do so 
 the first fine Sunday. As it chanced, the weather for a 
 number of Sundays was bad, so it was full summer before 
 one came which tempted her to go. Andreas Berg accom- 
 panied her. 
 
 The road to the mountain led to the left from the
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 71 
 
 market-place, past the new churchyard, and further out 
 into the country. But after that, when they turned towards 
 the mountain, the way was more of a quagmire than a 
 road. 
 
 Till that time the poorer people of the town had been 
 allowed to build as they liked, and live as they could, and a 
 regular road was only just being constructed. Down by the 
 sea, the boats lay side by side, as close together as possible, 
 for the left side of the mountain sheltered them. All round 
 the boats, and in them, were a number of children, mostly 
 little ones, and there was as much noise as if there were a 
 thousand of them. 
 
 Tomasine wondered if the one she sought were there as 
 well. She looked into each wild little face to see if she could 
 find anything familiar. It was not a pleasant occupation. 
 The rough children gathered round her in a swarm, when she 
 inquired for Marit St5en, and at least twenty pointed up the 
 hill. But she could not distinguish what they said to her all 
 together. Nor did she wish to stay, but, with Andreas Berg, 
 began to climb all the corkscrew turnings of the road. 
 
 The shouts from below followed her, but none of the 
 children, so that she concluded that none of them had any- 
 thing to do with Marit Stoen. 
 
 It was a rough road, over the solid rock for the most 
 part, though here and there a step had been made, and now 
 and then it had been slightly hollowed. 
 
 It turned from left to right and from right to left ; there 
 were not four houses standing on the same level. And how 
 extraordinary many of them were ! Some nothing more than 
 a ship's caboose, with a broad penthouse over it. There 
 were several with the stairs leading to the upper story 
 built outside, and, in one or two, they went right across the 
 roof, to an attic room which had been added later. Many 
 were so built that the lower story had its exit to the west, 
 with the road on a level with the door, but the upper 
 story had an exit to the east, for there the road and door 
 were still on the same level. 
 
 Almost all the houses had odd outbuildings, mostly boats 
 standing up, with one end cut off, though in some cases boats 
 were used as roofs, by being turned upside down and sup- 
 ported by walls of boards or stone. Little strips of garden 
 wound in and out everywhere, often in the m.ost unlikely
 
 ;2 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 places, where they were so narrow that two turnips could 
 hardly grow side by side. Rank odours of all sorts, some- 
 times pleasantly modified by the smell of tar, hung over the 
 whole mountain, rising and spreading as a rich offering up 
 into the Sabbath sky — all according to the ordinary customs 
 in that part of the world. 
 
 The noise of the children down by the sea came ringing 
 up the hillside like a constant chime, now and then broken 
 by a cry. A cock crowed ; a dog on board one of the 
 ships in the harbour barked at a passing boat, and was 
 answered by some shaggy comrade on the mountain. Other- 
 wise all was still ; they only heard their own steps crunching 
 on the gravel, and, as they got higher up, something like the 
 frantic screaming of a child. 
 
 Tomasine looked out over the islands, and the Sound, 
 away to the open sea — shining and still and clear under the 
 sky. In the streets of the town a few people were walking 
 about, and, in some places, little groups of children. But it 
 was too far off for any sound to mingle with the shouts of 
 those below. 
 
 To the right lay " The Estate," the first column of smoke, 
 just curling from the kitchen chimney; all round here the 
 chimneys had been smoking for a long time, and a little 
 smoke hung here and there over the town. 
 
 The day was warm. They toiled, perspiring, up the 
 mountain-side, and she thought of those who, after a day's 
 hard work, had every evening to climb these twenty, thirty, or 
 even fifty stages for supper, wood chopping, and bed. 
 
 She did not meet a single person, though she saw several, 
 mostly old men, sitting before the doors with their pipes. 
 The working men generally slept till dinner time on Sun- 
 days, and the women were all by the kitchen fires. Here 
 and there an idle lass might be seen, sitting on a step, 
 chatting to a girl-friend who had most likely come up to 
 join in the evening's amusements. Or perhaps a young sailor, 
 who, with his pipe in his mouth, and his hands in his 
 pockets, leant over a wall talking to a girl who stood shyly 
 before him. 
 
 Little more than half-way up they came upon a party of 
 lads and girls who lay or sat round a large flat stone. There 
 was no noise or talking ; Tomasine did not know they were 
 there, until she was close upon them. They were in the
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 73 
 
 very worst of the smells, but that did not seem to affect 
 them. What could they be engaged in ? There was nothing 
 to show it. She inquired the way, and one or two half rose, 
 while one, who was older, answered her, pointing to a red 
 house with white painted window-frames. 
 
 Tomasine had just wiped her spectacles and she could 
 see the house, but she also saw distinctly by their manner that 
 they all knew her, and every one guessed just what she 
 wanted at Mother Stoa's. No one said anything, but she 
 heard a little tittering and whispering when she had gone by. 
 
 She asked Berg what they could be doing, since they 
 were all so quiet ; and he replied that he believed that the 
 boys were playing cards, and the girls looking on, but that, 
 as it was at the time of the Sunday sermon, they hid the 
 cards away if a stranger went by. She began to reflect on 
 the difference between the working people in a little Nor- 
 wegian town and those of a large foreign city, raising thereby 
 many old memories. But something occupied her along 
 with her thinking, a disagreeable something which would 
 not leave off. What was that ? Yes, it was the same 
 frantic screaming from up the hill. Now that she came 
 nearer, she recognised it, and it brought a painful feeling 
 with it. It was her son's old, spiteful scream. There was 
 no doubt of it — the same to such a degree in tone of voice, 
 in description, and vigour, that it tortured and stabbed her. 
 Couldit be his sister who was up there scoffing at her? 
 She had been hot before, and now she was in a glow ; some 
 of the old dread seized upon her, bewildering thoughts from 
 the old days, of struggles with her son. But, " Frue, you 
 are going too fast," called Andreas Berg from lower down 
 the hill ; she could hardly see him, her glasses were dim ; 
 she took them off and wiped them, and her eyes as well, 
 drew a long breath and began to laugh. Berg came up 
 slowly. The child's crying continued, but now that she 
 had recovered her senses, she noticed that it came from the 
 right, while she could see Marit Stoen's house, the red one 
 with white window-frames, almost exactly before her on the 
 slope to the left ; it was the largest house up there, and 
 undoubtedly the one she had seen, she could not be mis- 
 taken ; she felt quite light-hearted as she walked towards it. 
 
 They could not go straight to it, but were obliged to 
 make a circuit and come back along Marit Stoen's garden
 
 74 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 fence, which had also been painted, though evidently not so 
 recently. 
 
 The two windows of the house looked out towards the 
 garden, and there was an extensive view from them, but the 
 door was in the end wall to the left, to which a porch had 
 been added, with a few steps leading up to it. All was 
 quiet here, inside and out, but the jubilant voices of the 
 little ones below, and the screams of the angry child from 
 the other side, further away, met in the air. 
 
 The garden, along which they passed, was the largest they 
 had seen on the mountain, though certainly neither it, nor 
 the house, were what one would call well kept. But there 
 was comfort, or whatever one might call it : Tomasine 
 hesitated for the right word. She now saw a child with 
 dark hair and bright, wondering eyes, who got up from the 
 steps, letting something fall from her lap, as she ran 
 quickly into the house-place. Immediately afterwards there 
 appeared a tall elderly woman, with dark untidy hair, and 
 a handsome and intelligent, though rather dirty face. The 
 woman at once recognised Tomasine, who now came up 
 the steps and entered the porch. 
 
 " Have you come to see us. True ? " she asked, smiling. 
 
 Tomasine was again busy with her eternal spectacles, 
 and when she put them on again, the woman had tidied up 
 the place as well as she could, with the little girl clinging 
 with both hands to her skirt, so that, however the woman 
 turned, the child was hidden from the strange lady. Andreas 
 Berg remained outside. Marit Stoen apologised for her 
 untidy room, with a pleasant voice and simple skill. It was 
 getting on to dinner-fime, she said, and everything certainly 
 ought to be very different. But there had been a dance 
 there the evening before. They like to keep it up a long 
 time, you see. . She would still less like to ask the lady to 
 come into the parlour, for it was even worse, she said, laugh- 
 ing. It was by no means a small sum that she made by 
 letting the room, and by the coffee she sold. Her room was 
 the largest on that side ; for the mountain was divided in 
 two as it were. "The people here will have nothing to do 
 with those on the other side." And she laughed again. 
 
 Tomasine Rendalen had taken a seat, but when she began 
 to look round the room, she found that the spectacles must 
 come off again. She was warmer than she had supposed.
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 75 
 
 As she took them off, she asked after the child's mother. 
 The woman replied that Petrea was married. 
 
 " Married ! " 
 
 "Yes, to a mate of the name of Aslaksen. He was a 
 smart, clever fellow, and he would have her. They did not 
 live here any longer," she said, and proceeded to explain 
 their circumstances in detail. "Aslaksen would soon get 
 a ship." 
 
 The child peeped now and again from behind her grand- 
 mother's skirts, and each time Tomasine glanced towards 
 her. She had a shock of dark hair like her grandmother's, 
 and in other respects was a blending of John Kurt and the 
 woman standing before her — a blending which, she could 
 not deny it, gave her a feeling of aversion. And yet the 
 little thing was pretty. She had undoubtedly Kurt's wild 
 eyes, but there was laughter in them as well as wildness. 
 
 " So the child remains with you?" said Tomasine, pointing 
 with her parasol to where she was hiding. 
 
 " The child, yes, she's all right," answered the grandmother, 
 while she patted her grandchild's head. " John Kurt, he 
 paid for Petrea, as soon as ever she had her misfortune. 
 And had a christening, so grand as you would hardly believe, 
 and along a' that,he gives her a savings-bank book with a hun- 
 dred specie-daler in it, and his father gave her another on top 
 of it with just as much in it again." And INIarit Stoen began 
 to cry from sheer gratitude, because John Kurt had given 
 two hundred daler to his own child. 
 
 Up to that time Tomasine had had no idea of this. 
 " Have you any of the money left?" she asked. 
 
 " I should think we have some of it left," laughed Marit ; 
 "why that is a likely idea that the little 'un could want it 
 all." She laughed, and again took hold of the child's curly 
 head, and drew it towards her. But the little one slipped back 
 again directly. 
 
 " Is she not very much in the way, now you are alone and 
 have to work ? " 
 
 "Oh! as for that, no. We are not so particular as all 
 that comes to. She sits herself away somewhere ; " and she 
 turned half round, laughing, towards the child behind her. 
 
 " Is she easy to manage — not passionate ? " 
 
 " Oh ! not so bad," laughed Marit ; " and she's so comical 
 as well, poor little thing." And she now forcibly pulled her
 
 76 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 forward, the child still struggling against her. '^ Now, now, 
 don't be such a silly." 
 
 Tomasine, however, did not wish to come into close 
 contact with the child. So she got up, and looked round 
 the house-place. The hearth was in the corner of the inner 
 room ; close by the window stood the table, with the 
 remains of breakfast on it ; a coffee-cup and a milk-bowl, 
 with the dregs still in them. 
 
 On the wall opposite, and also on that between the fire- 
 place and the door, hung some daguerreotypes, and two or 
 three pictures were nailed up as well. The dagguerreo- 
 types, of course, represented Aslaksen and Petrea. Fru 
 Rendalen passed these without looking at them. The 
 pictures were, one a large ship in full sail, the others, the 
 new Emperor and Empress of the French. As Tomasine 
 had never seen any likeness of the latter she went up to 
 them. The Emperor, who had a large nose, looked about 
 twenty-four ; the Empress was but lightly clad, though she 
 looked all the same a, very innocent little girl of hardly sixteen. 
 " They are only the sort o' things they carry about to sell," 
 explained Marit. " I thought it would be amusing like to 
 have her. She was not born to it, nor, for the matter of that, 
 was he." 
 
 Tomasine was now opposite the open door. "Good 
 gracious !" she exclaimed, "what child can that be who is 
 always screaming?" 
 
 Marit laughed. "Oh ! that's Lars Tobiassen's boy, that is." 
 
 " He never does anything else but scream," was suddenly 
 heard from the little girl behind her grandmother's gown. 
 She came forward in her excitement. Then, frightened at 
 the sound of her own voice, she hid her head again. 
 
 " Perhaps the lady knows Lars Tobiassen ? " inquired 
 Marit. 
 
 Tomasine noticed something in her voice. " No, what 
 is he?" 
 
 " It is rather a difficult job to say, that," answered Marit. 
 " He's such a lot of things. He's a hard drinker, he is. 
 He's turned butcher lately, for they say as drinking won't 
 do no harm in that business. Have you never seen him?" 
 
 " No, why do you ask me ? " 
 
 " Ah, I don't hardly like to say anything about it," and she 
 laughed rather slyly.
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 77 
 
 " But why not ? " 
 
 "Well, I only says what others sa)'s to me. It was not 
 
 as found it out ;" and she laughed again. 
 
 " What is said, then ? " 
 
 "Well, folk do say that he's a Kurt too. Not any ot 
 them last ones, but a bit further back." 
 
 She saw this made some impression on Tomasine, and 
 hastily added, " Like enough, it's nought but talk. He's 
 like no Kurt that ever I saw. He's a rare fighter, he is." 
 
 " Some of the Kurts have been that too," answered 
 Tomasine, by way of saying something ; and she turned to 
 the window and looked out. 
 
 " Yes, I've heard that," answered Marit ; " there are two 
 sorts of 'em. Some fat and dark, and others just as thin ; 
 but they have always been good-natured, the most of 'em. 
 Folk can say what they will, but to the poor people . . . ." 
 Her hand sought the child. 
 
 Tomasine turned at the moment and beckoned to Marit. 
 Through the window they could see a number of people 
 beyond the garden-fence. Andreas Berg was there as well, 
 talking to some of them, perhaps to keep them there, and 
 prevent them from coming to the door. They were mostly 
 young. Now she saw that they were the same whom she 
 had passed down below, sitting round the flat stone ; a few 
 others might perhaps have joined them. They all stood 
 staring up at the window. 
 
 " My, what a lot there are !" cried Marit. 
 
 " Do you see that ragged boy, with the fair curly hair?" 
 asked Tomasine. 
 
 " Yes, he is easy enough to see," and Marit's voice showed 
 that she understood what Tomasine wished to know. " He 
 is the son of young Consul Fiirst, and like enough to his 
 father." It was true. That curly hair, those blue eyes, 
 recalled the partner of many a dance. Tomasine blushed 
 crimson. " ^Vhy, my gracious, and you did not know before 
 Frue ? Well, it's my turn to ask you something now," she 
 continued. " Do you know that lass over there, as is holding 
 her petticoat on with her hand ? She has pulled off the 
 string, poor thing. Her, without much more on than her 
 shift. Her with hair as is neither yellow nor red, and a ridi- 
 culous white skin. Dear me, ^/laf one over there. Can't 
 you really see who she is ? " Yes, Tomasine had done so
 
 78 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 long ago ; she had had plenty of practice in the foreign 
 schools in recognising parents by their children, and children 
 by their parents. "Yes, she's Froken Engel right enough, 
 if any one chose to call her so," laughed Marit, " though 
 she's not dressed in silks." Tomasine drew back from the 
 window. 
 
 Again Marit laughed, though this time not altogether 
 without malice. " One sees the wrong side of the world up 
 here on the mountain." Tomasine hastened to say that she 
 had thought of giving the child sixty daler a year. Here 
 was the first thirty for the past six months. If Marit needed 
 any more help, she must come and tell her. When the 
 child was bigger, they would talk of what was further to be 
 done with her. Marit stood with the money in her hand : 
 " That really was something, far more than any one could 
 expect ; if everybody behaved like that when any one had 
 a misfortune . . . ." And she began to cry again. 
 
 In the meantime the child had let go the dress, rousing 
 up when she heard that there were people outside in the 
 garden. She had sidled right into the porch. She now 
 came rushing in again, while loud laughter from outside rang 
 through the house. The little girl only said "Lars Tobiassen," 
 seized her grandmother's dress with both her hands, and 
 huddled it round her. Tomasine, frightened lest he should 
 be coming in, went hurriedly to the door without even 
 saying good-bye, tying her bonnet strings, which she had 
 loosened, as she went. In so doing she nearly fell, and had 
 a narrow escape of descending the steps quicker than she 
 had intended. But Lars Tobiassen had just passed. The 
 laughter seemed to have burst out as he clambered up the 
 steps to the right. He was roaring drunk. 
 
 Tomasine came out just as, with his back towards her, he 
 had surmounted the first obstacle. She noticed his close- 
 cropped neck. Where had she seen that bronze bull-neck 
 before, and the point of hair in the middle? Oh ! Heavens, 
 that fearful neck which had hung over her, the night 
 her child was born. The eldest Kurt's neck : that was it. 
 And the bull-necked man now called out, " Now just you 
 wait — devil take you ! I'll give you something to scream for, 
 I will." Tomasine was down the steps, out of the garden, 
 through the crowd ; she v/ould not hear that swearing again, 
 nor the sound of blows, and not, oh ! not that half-insane
 
 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 79 
 
 screaming. She rather flew than walked through the 
 people, who made way for her. But barely sufficient, so 
 that she jostled against several of them, and when the 
 descent began, she sprang from step to step, fancying she 
 heard laughter behind her, but only running on the faster. 
 She was fit to drop, but v.-ould not give in. Notwithstanding 
 all her efforts, she could hear behind her the incessant 
 terrified cries of the child, the drunken voice, and a woman's 
 passionate scream. Dogs woke up and barked, but not 
 near enough to drown the shriek, that fearful shriek, until, 
 thank God, the bells from the two churches in the town 
 began to ring at the same moment, filling the whole air with 
 their clangour. She had come to the flat stone where the 
 young people had been. It was deserted now ; she sank 
 down on it, and burst into tears. At last Andreas Berg 
 came after her. His dignified pace made her feel that she 
 had behaved somewhat strangely. She dare not wait till he 
 got up with her, but without looking round she walked on. 
 Her knees trembled, but she would no longer allow herself 
 to be hunted by phantoms. The blessed church-bells saved 
 her from hearing anything else, and they continued till she 
 was right down at the bottom. The children were no 
 longer there. It was dinner-time. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later she was sitting with her little 
 boy in her lap. He was very much puzzled by her excite- 
 ment and tears, assuring her eagerly that he had been 
 "dood" the whole time. She thanked him for it over and 
 over again, with caresses, hugs, and kisses, but cried all the 
 more. Now she began to feel how bad it had been of her 
 never to lay her hand on his little sister's head, although she 
 had been " dood" too. 
 
 The boy's playthings lay strewn around him. She re- 
 membered the bit of firewood, with an apron round it, which 
 his little sister had let fall when she ran friglitened away 
 from the door-step. Tomasine had noticed it, for she almost 
 fell over it as she hurried away. But nothing had melted 
 her. Yet the child could not help having the same father ! 
 No, it was Tomasine who had not been " dood " that 
 morning.
 
 ( 80 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CHILD. 
 
 The first result of this visit was that Tomasine felt she 
 must have some one to talk to, for there were other bad 
 inheritances in the world beside the Kurts'. She must gain 
 further knowledge. Without hesitation she chose the man 
 for whom she had the greatest respect, " Old Green." 
 
 Now as surely as the afternoon came old Green passed 
 by. The way he took was along the garden, on the right, 
 where the road used to run, and where a path still led up to 
 the woods. This walk among the hills and woods was 
 Dean Green's favourite one. Tomasine began to watch for 
 him, but lately he had hardly ever been alone. Nils Hansen, 
 the shoemaker, was generally with him, the greatest character 
 in the town, and married to a lady whom Tomasine had 
 known abroad, and who had been one of her friends. 
 
 One day, as Tomasine had stationed herself at the gate, 
 to watch if the Dean were alone, she heard him and Hansen 
 far down the slope. Mormonism was beginning at this time 
 to be made known in the North by its first emissaries. 
 The newspapers constantly contained something about this 
 new teaching. Nils Hansen was talking loudly. " Mormon- 
 ism," he said, "we are as good Mormons here us in America. 
 How many wives has a man before he is married in church, 
 and afterwards as well ? The merchants are the worst, but 
 there are others beside." 
 
 They had drawn nearer before the Dean answered. 
 " Look you, Hansen. I take it for granted that the races 
 which have attained to monogamy, actual monogamy . . . ." 
 
 " And what sort of thing may that be ? " 
 
 The Dean stood still. " It means having one wife. Poly- 
 gamy is having several wives." 
 
 " Oh ! that's it, is it." 
 
 " The races which have really and truly come to be 
 monogamists," continued the Dean, " are but few. The 
 most part are still polygamists." They walked on again. 
 
 Nils Hansen agreeoU " Yes, that is — devil take it — my 
 opinion as well."
 
 THE CHILD. 8l 
 
 The Dean : " Progress consists in this, that the disgrace 
 . . . ." She heard no further. 
 
 "There are bad inheritances in the world beside the 
 Kurts'," thought Tomasine again. " How otherwise could 
 he have been endured: nay, even liked? No doubt he 
 appealed to some secret feeling in most of them." 
 
 As she had not the courage to go straight down to Dean 
 Green, she went first to Nils Hansen's. It was generally 
 said of Nils Hansen, that he flourished, and that in the 
 greatest prosperity, on the hatred of the whole town. His 
 crime consisted in his having several years before mustered 
 the lesser townsfolk in a struggle against those of more 
 importance, or ratlier in the fact that he had been victorious. 
 He had taken the town councillorship from them, seized 
 the pews in church, so that now every one had equal rank 
 and place there. He had had everything supervised and 
 the financial estimates inspected, in a way that the leading 
 people looked upon as extremely wrong. His worst villainy 
 admittedly was, that, aided by some pecuniary help from 
 non-residents, he had established a bank for poor people, 
 called the penny bank, which had helped a number of the 
 lower orders, even in some cases bringing them quite to 
 independence ; for all the vested interests, his sharp and 
 amusing answers were like a wireworm at the root of a 
 tree. 
 
 It had aroused incredible merriment when a school- 
 mistress in the town, a pretty, fair woman, with more than 
 usual endowments, and even with the expectation of a 
 fortune, refused several eligible offers, to engage herself 
 to rough, rude, shoemaker Hansen. She was despe- 
 rately in love with him into the bargain. She smiled and 
 blushed if he were so much as named, and it can be 
 imagined what it was when he himself hove in sight — one 
 shoulder a little higher than the other, by the way — with his 
 odd face, bUnking eyes, broad shoulders, and huge hands. 
 Endless jokes were made behind their backs, because, both 
 while they were engaged, and afterwards when they were 
 married, she taught Hansen, and he boasted of it. But they 
 afterwards felt the result of this schooling, and paid for it as 
 well. She was older than Tomasine, and had once been 
 some months with her in England. When Tomasine re- 
 turned, Fru Hansen had been married a year, and was 
 
 F
 
 82 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS, 
 
 therefore somewhat outside the circle in which the former 
 moved, though she often went to see her, for she was very 
 fond of the healthy, clear-headed little housewife. 
 
 It was therefore with her that Tomasine was especially 
 angry when it transpired what kind of man John Kurt was. 
 Why had she not by a single word dissuaded her from taking 
 him ? After his death Laura Hansen had tried to have some 
 talk with Tomasine, but in vain. But now the latter thought, 
 ' Perhaps most wives have something to complain of, and yet 
 this does not prevent girls from marry'ng ; so why should I 
 have expected them to advise me to act differently from 
 what they would have done themselves ?" So she went down 
 to Laura Hansen. 
 
 They lived in a small, old house on the market-place, 
 next door to Flirst's. The queer building, with a narrow 
 alley on one side and a large door leading to the rambling 
 courtyard on the other, was the inheritance which Laura 
 had expected, and now possessed. She was a slender but 
 well-grown woman, with an open countenance. Some people 
 considered her sullen, some thought her shy: that depended 
 very much on what was passing. By some she was called 
 talkative, by others sparing of her words. She took both 
 people and circumstances into consideration. The friends 
 had not met for five years. Laura sat sewing in the room 
 behind the shop, the one with the window towards the alley. 
 She rose, astonished, flushed, and somewhat agitated. Toma- 
 sme was really once more in her house. They were both 
 a little stiff at first. A little dark-haired, thick-set girl sat 
 on a stool learning to sew. She looked solemnly up at them, 
 but was soon sent out of the room. Her mother understood 
 at once that they two, friends of old days, must be alone, 
 and make it up together. And they did so. 
 
 After several introductory remarks, Tomasine laid her 
 complaint against Laura and her other friends, considerately, 
 but still clearly. 
 
 Laura answered : "When a girl does not allow herself to 
 be hindered by the kind of hfe that John Kurt led, there is 
 no use in any one else talking to her about it." Laura, for 
 her part, had refused several men just because their conduct 
 in that particular had been doubtful, or more than doubtful. 
 But Hansen, she knew, was honourable in that respect as in 
 others.
 
 THE CHILD. 83 
 
 The tall Tomasine felt very small under little Laura's 
 steady gaze and quiet words. She fell from the position of 
 accuser to that of accused, and her fall was no trifling one. 
 She had felt very superior up there for several years, and a 
 few words spoken in the course of a minute or two had laid 
 her low. She did not feel much respect for her own powers ; 
 nay, for a moment, it made her unhappy to think how short- 
 sighted she had been. She actually felt anxious to discover 
 if she were equally stupid in other things, but she soon so 
 far regained her balance as to understand that to look only 
 at one side of things may be partly the fault of circum- 
 stances. 
 
 She sat there without speaking, without listening ; she had - 
 fallen into a reverie. Laura took the opportunity of leaving 
 the room to prepare some chocolate, and to ask her husband 
 to take her place while she was away. This, however, he 
 had not time for at the moment, but still he was so pleased 
 that Tomasine had come again, that he felt he must just put 
 his head in at the door to say so. He had on his leather 
 apron, and held a shoemaker's stirrup in his left hand. 
 Tomasine rose to grasp the other, but he waved her back, 
 laugliing. It was not lit to touch. " I only wanted to say 
 many, many 'good days' to an old friend," he said after his 
 fashion, as he drew back. But at that moment little Augusta 
 came in again from the shop. She heard her father. He 
 popped liis head in again. " Just look at her. I always say 
 that a dark person ought to marry a fair one. That is just 
 what our two young ones are." And he shut the door. 
 
 Augusta was unusually tall and strong for her age. She 
 was a full year older than Tomas. When Tomasine called 
 her and spoke to her, the child surprised her. 
 
 There was a serenity in her eyes and brow, and a quiet- 
 ness in her way of talking, more like a grown person than a 
 child. She was a contrast to Tomasine's own nervous little 
 "Red-head," who never asked three questions about the 
 same thing — a most pleasant contrast both outwardly and 
 inwardly. Little Augusta went on questioning until the 
 subject was clear to her own mind, and then would pass on 
 to the next topic which came up. 
 
 Her hands were plump, but firm ; his, thin, freckled, rest- 
 less in their very shape. Her hair was dark and unusually 
 plentiful, notwithstanding which it made the smoothest
 
 84 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 plaits ; his stood up and stuck out in red bristles, which 
 seemed to grow in layers ; it was never tidy unless it were 
 close cropped. He was bony and thin ; she so plump, though 
 thoroughly healthy. Tomasine recalled what she herself 
 had been as a child. Why was not her child the same ? She 
 felt something almost like envy; to think that the little 
 velvet jacket that Augusta wore was without a spot, though 
 it was evidently far from new. Tomasine searched for one 
 until it seemed to her that the whole little figure was solid 
 soft velvet. 
 
 Her mother came in with the chocolate, and the ice being 
 now broken, they found plenty of subjects of conversation, 
 especially after Augusta had again been sent away. 
 
 Tomasine asked how the child had become so lovable, 
 gentle, and sensible ; and was told that she had never been 
 headstrong. "Not even at first?" '' Never, but clear- 
 headed and staid from a tiny child." 
 
 The last thing that Tomasine wished was to say anything 
 against her little Tomas, but the contrast was so great that 
 somehow all that she had gone through was told, and what 
 incessant care she had still to practise ! 
 
 Laura received, during Tomasine's relation, a firm convic- 
 tion that this state of things would in the long run prove too 
 much for her, and therefore be dangerous for her health. 
 
 Accordingly they both went to Dean Green, and from 
 that day forward the stately old gentleman, in his long- 
 skirted coat and broad-brimmed hat, often took his way up 
 the avenue, instead of round the garden, when he set out 
 for his afternoon's walk. Beside this, Tomasine began, little 
 by little, to gather her old friends about her again. Once 
 more they strolled in the broad paths of "The Estate" garden, 
 many of them with their children in their hands. So by 
 degrees happiness and confidence entered into her life again, 
 and peace as well. 
 
 For now, when Tomas's education was to begin, it was 
 done in quite a different way from what she had imagined. 
 He went to school — a school which she herself kept for him, 
 and for a number of little girls, the children of her friends. 
 
 At first he thought this incredibly splendid. He was 
 thoroughly happy, willing, even devoted; but after a while, 
 when he heard from other boys that it was a disgrace even 
 to go about with little girls, he wanted to know why he
 
 The child. §5 
 
 should be condemned to do so. Could not his mother send 
 them all home again and have boys there instead ? He 
 pleaded for this — he fumed, he cried; but the girls remained. 
 If only he could make out what was the use of it all ! What 
 had he not to endure from the lads who attended the boys' 
 public school, who had men for teachers. If he as much as 
 put his head over the garden wall, he heard, " Petticoat 
 boy ! " " Mama's darling ! " " The women's prince ! " " Miss 
 Freckles ! " Especially the last, for he was terribly freckled, 
 regularly speckled with red all over his face and hands, 
 added to which he had the most hopelessly red hair. Just 
 think of a boy being called "A Freckle," "Miss Freckle," 
 as though he were nothing but a freckle amongst the band 
 of girls. Goodness knows how he disdained them ! If, 
 however, he were so bold as to say so to them, and a boy with 
 his heart in the right place is often impelled to do so, he 
 cannot always keep his contempt concealed ; well, if he did 
 so he got a beating — a veritable, serious beating. From his 
 mother? That would have been nothing; no, from those 
 same wretched little girls. Some held him and half strangled 
 him, and several more beat him. And this not as a joke. 
 It hurt frightfully. And his mother stood there and laughed. 
 She laughed till the tears came. She had to take off her 
 spectacles and dry them. They would have no domineer- 
 ing little tyrant among them — those girls, no arrogant young 
 master ; though they were always ready, they said to him, to 
 welcome a well-behaved little gentleman and pleasant com- 
 panion. If he grimaced at them they were at him again, 
 down with him again ; it was one perpetual beating. When 
 they had done, they curtseyed to him, one after the other. 
 There were such a number of them that it was mere fun to 
 them. The worst, however, has not yet been told. He was 
 desperately in love with one of the little girls. She knew it, 
 the ungrateful little monkey, and his mother knew it as well. 
 He was sure of that. It was principally on account of it 
 that she had laughed so dreadfully. It was the worst of 
 them, Augusta Hansen, Laura's daughter — Augusta, with 
 whom he had eaten cherries. That is to say, they had taken 
 them out of each other's mouths ; first she out of his, as he 
 held the stalk in his mouth close up to the fruit, and then 
 he, in the same way from hers. Augusta, who had given 
 him her sash to wear as a badge at the tournaments which
 
 §6 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 he held .... quite alone, by the way. Augusta, to whom 
 in return he had given his whole collection of blown eggs ; 
 he had found every one of them himself. He had been 
 obliged to ask his mother's leave to give them away, for it 
 could not very well have been managed without. He had 
 come behind her to whisper in her ear, he did not wish her 
 to look at him while he did so. His mother had asked 
 him if he were fond of Augusta, and he had confided to her 
 that it was especially her hair, but that she was the most 
 good-natured of the girls, and the cleverest as well. What 
 Augusta said was always right. His mother had agreed 
 with him in that. She had not laughed then, but now she 
 stood and looked on while Augusta thrashed him ; for it was 
 Augusta's hand that thumped the hardest. 
 
 After such treachery — and this did not happen only once 
 unfortunately; it happened very often — he would not speak 
 to Augusta for several days; once he held out for three. 
 He tried the same with his mother, .but he could never 
 contrive to keep grave when she looked at him. She always 
 befooled him into laughing. 
 
 He now essayed, by a more serious and regular manner 
 of proceeding, to obtain a different adjustment of things for 
 the future. This struggle really meant nothing more nor 
 less than the right relationship between the sexes. Its 
 depths he was truly far from having sounded, but his mascu- 
 line instincts told him that it was all upside down, up there 
 in the garden. Things must be altered. But there was 
 never any " Hands off," as they say. It was Dean Green 
 whom he suspected of being the cause of the worst of all 
 this. Of one thing, at all events, he was certain. It was 
 Dean Green's idea that he, like the girls, should learn to 
 play the piano. No other boy had to strum like that. 
 Tomas hated the long-coated parson, with his aquiline nose 
 and bushy eyebrows, who was always about, and who 
 smiled when he saw him. He hated him to that extent that, 
 when he shot at a mark, he always tried to draw a picture of 
 the Dean to shoot at, and then to hit his coat, his nose, or 
 his eye. But, hit him as much as he would, no change took 
 place ; the piano-playing went on. the girls remained, and 
 even if any day he brought some boys into the garden, they 
 could never be alone — oh no ! The detestable little girls 
 vvcre always hanging about, and then all the stories after-
 
 THE CHILD. 87 
 
 wards; any little thing that a boy might have said or 
 done was used against him ; he was done for, he never came 
 again. 
 
 And they would say, too, that Tomas had tried to show 
 himself off before his companions, and play the grown 
 man. He always got a beating afterwards. Sometimes they 
 divided his offences into several portions, and he was first 
 beaten for one and then for another, Augusta was con- 
 stantly drubbing him with the greatest heartiness, without 
 the slightest remembrance of the cherries, or the eggs, or 
 any of his little attentions. There is no telling the number 
 of times that he renounced his allegiance and loyalty to her, 
 but as Augusta did not care a rush, and went about just the 
 same, with those thick plaits and sturdy legs of hers .... 
 Well, then he began to abase himself. He had to let her 
 understand that he did not exactly disdain her, that perhaps 
 it might be possible to obtain grace. She never seemed to 
 notice him, and so it ended that he thought it was not worth 
 remembering any longer. 
 
 One thing about Augusta was peculiar, she always really 
 influenced the others without trying to do so ; she let others 
 lead as long as they liked, she acted exactly in the same 
 way whoever led and whatever plan they hit upon ; but 
 whenever they got into difficulties it was she who found the 
 way out. 
 
 Ah ! how Tomas admired her, how often he told her so ! 
 and was annoyed that he could not let it alone. It was 
 with her that he now began to take his music lessons, and 
 from that time forth playing became his favourite occu- 
 pation. 
 
 These first stormy years were followed by others, and he 
 attained at last to such superiority, that he dared to acknow- 
 ledge his comradeship with the girls. He settled down at 
 list into accepting their help against other boys, when they 
 challenged him from outside. Nay — who would have thought 
 it ? — the time came when he fought for his valiant girl-friends, 
 eager for the battle ; especially if one of the boys had called 
 Augusta " Slioemaker' s lass," or even " Sausage." He 
 would gladly have gone to the death for her; nor was this all 
 boasting, for at nine years old he was severely mauled be- 
 cause, on this account, he would fight against ten or twelve 
 at once, of whom three at least were older than he. That
 
 88 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 was the proudest moment of his life, as he lay with a fresh 
 vinegar plaster on his head, and Augusta must come in and 
 change it instead of his mother. 
 
 Now that there really was something worth talking about — 
 not a word. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 At this time a great change took place in Tomas's external 
 life. For the first time he had a companion. 
 
 Some years back, there had died in the town a curate 
 named Vangen, who had married a very enthusiastic Danish 
 lady. They had led quite an Arcadian life together — 
 literally without thought for the morrow. 
 
 People are always very kind at times of bereavement ; she 
 managed to support her children and herself for the first few 
 years, for those that followed there was no necessity to do so 
 — she died. 
 
 Through Dean Green, her son Karl came to Fru Rendalen 
 " on probation." He was at that time eleven. Karl Vangen 
 was tall, slight, and dark, with a large head, his forehead 
 being the most noticeable feature. He had gentle blue-grey 
 eyes, in large sockets, a wide, straight mouth, which slowly 
 expanded into a smile. He was quiet, and very modest, and 
 rather uneasy in his new surroundings. When, at night, he 
 went with Tomas into the room he now occupied, on the 
 other side of the bath-room, he knelt down by the side 
 of the new bed, which had been put up for him there, and 
 prayed silently for a long time, his face buried in his hands. 
 When he rose from his knees, he smiled across at his com- 
 panion, with tears in his eyes, but he did not speak. 
 
 Tomas heard him afterwards sobbing under the bed- 
 clothes. This lasted a long time. Tomas felt at last that 
 he must cry too, but took care that the other should not 
 hear him. 
 
 Every one was kindness itself to the new-comer, but no 
 one so much so as Tomas. If he could have clasped him- 
 self round him like a belt, he would have done so. 
 
 Karl went to the Latin school, where he was received free,
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 89 
 
 SO the boys were separated almost all day, nor did they even 
 study together when he came home. 
 
 Karl allowed himself but little leisure. He was slow at 
 learning, but still was at the head of his class, and he wished 
 to continue there ; so that Tomas naturally could not see 
 as much of him as he wished, or be so good to him as he 
 wanted to be. 
 
 When Karl did at last come out he was tired, and did not 
 go with Tomas very willingly. 
 
 He did not perhaps estimate all that Tomas had done for 
 him, nor understand how the boy had waited for him, how 
 glad he was to see him. He was the first companion that 
 Tomas had ever had, but he himself had plenty. 
 
 The fact was, that Karl was too slow and gentle, always 
 anxious about his clothes, perfectly obedient to anything 
 that was said to him, and in this, and other things, a great 
 contrast to Tomas. 
 
 At last Tomas discovered that Karl was just a girl, one 
 more girl up there, and not, by a long way, so amusing as 
 the others. 
 
 He soon began to call him Karoline. He mocked at 
 him when he shivered, or was frightened about his clothes. 
 And when he smiled good-naturedly, instead of being angry, 
 Tomas would make his mouth wide by stretching it with 
 his two forefingers. 
 
 That was so very funny that the girls began to take part 
 in it. They praised Tomas for his chivalrous behaviour to 
 them, and he was proud ot it himself. But both he, and 
 they, could be very unchivalrous towards Karl, without its 
 striking them that they were so. As, for instance, when 
 Tomas conceived the idea that every time Karl showed 
 himself, they should rush at him, one after the other, and 
 dust his clothes with their hands, because he was so fright- 
 ened about them — he had had so few. So he was brushed 
 and brushed till he began to cry, and was then immediately 
 called " Say-your-prayers boy " and " Ciy-baby." And this 
 grew worse when they saw that Karl, though both older and 
 bigger than Tomas, was nevertheless the weaker. So Tomas 
 could show himself off, and at last they really ill-treated 
 him. 
 
 Now, at the bottom it was not altogether disagreeable to 
 Karl to be a martyr. It seemed something great to him.
 
 90 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 But the others soon discovered this, and would not for the 
 life of them stand it. He was treated worse than ever from 
 that moment. 
 
 But where was Augusta while all this developed itself? 
 
 Augusta was kind to Karl ; indeed, the more the others 
 teased him, the more good-natured she became. But she 
 did not mix herself with what they took up. And besides, 
 lately she had shrunk more and more from anything rough. 
 Whenever Karl sought refuge with her, he was safe for the 
 time being, so that it happened that he did so oftener and 
 oftener, and at last constantly. He dare not enter the 
 garden without her. 
 
 Tomas was too proud to appear to notice anything, but 
 he made Karl pay for it. 
 
 One especial time, Tomas grumbled about this during a 
 music lesson, and she answered that so it would continue 
 until he became as good a boy as Karl, which he was far 
 from being at present. Then he swore vengeance. 
 
 On Saturday afternoons, Karl always went to the church- 
 yard, to put fresh flowers on his parents' graves. On the 
 next Saturday, as he was going down with his basket, 
 Tomas met him in the avenue, and asked him if he would 
 promise not to talk any more to Augusta. But Karl, so 
 accommodating in other things, would not promise this, not 
 even when Tomas struck him. He struck him again and 
 again, with all the strength he could muster, but Karl would 
 not promise to give her up. Quite beside himself, Tomas 
 kicked him in a dangerous manner ; he gave a loud cry and 
 dropped down. Tomas had him carried home, and rushed 
 away for the doctor. When, his forehead bathed in sweat 
 from anxiety and the speed with which he had run, he 
 passed the place where Karl had fallen down, with his 
 eyes fixed upon him, another image of his companion rose 
 before him — that of the helpless, silent lad who had knelt 
 down and prayed by his bedside the first evening in his new 
 home. 
 
 Tomas kept this resurrection of the former Karl in his soul. 
 
 He hurried back home again before the doctor, in order 
 that he might, as he passed the spot where Karl had fallen, 
 kneel down, unseen by any one, and cry and pray. 
 
 That evening his mother, Andreas Berg, and he sat by 
 themselves in the parlour. Andreas Berg had come in at
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 91 
 
 Fru Rendalen's request to tell Tomas the history of his 
 father's (John Kurt's) childhood — to tell it in her presence 
 without any reserve. Berg was a grave man, not free from 
 severity. He had been made angry, more than once, by 
 Tomas's performances with Karl. And he now related the 
 various circumstances of John Kurt's life when a boy, re- 
 lated them without a single word of blame ; but this only 
 made it fall the heavier. This was part of Berg's nature. 
 
 The mother did not feel it needful to add a single word. 
 
 She heard Tomas, late that evening, sobbing and crying 
 beside Karl's bed, and the next day saw him talking to 
 Augusta in the passage. 
 
 In the course of the day he had flung his arms round his 
 mother's neck and cried. But he had said nothing, though 
 it worked in his mind for a long while. 
 
 In the meantime it was determined that Karl's time of 
 probation should end, and that he should be considered as 
 a son of the house from that time. The doctor had de- 
 clared that he would all his life feel the effects of the kick 
 which jealousy and domineering had bestowed on him. 
 And this had decided the question. 
 
 Another great revolution took place shortly afterwards. 
 The girls who, together with Tomas, had enjo\ed Fru 
 Rendalen's teaching from the beginning, were so much more 
 advanced in languages, not only than those of the same age 
 at the girls' school, but also than the boys at the Latin 
 school, that many people wished she would extend her 
 classes, and establish the girls' school for the town up at " The 
 Estate." 
 
 This desire, which became unanimous, was strongly pressed 
 upon her. Dean Green was the most eager of all. How 
 could she use her knowledge and powers of administration 
 better ? All the development of her character, all the ex- 
 perience of her life, led her to this goal. Think of the 
 Kurts' house echoing with confiding, childish laughter ; 
 think that there, the rising generation of women would learn 
 to raise themselves to independence, either in married life, 
 or outside it. The subject symbolised itself in this way. 
 
 Very few of us have perhaps noticed that certain expecta- 
 tions and signs, fixed forebodings, chance remembrances, 
 weigh far more in deciding our plans than the simple 
 circumstances of the present time.
 
 92 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Tomaaine Rendalen was no exception to this rule. She 
 was, however, prudent enough to ask herself sometimes if she 
 were fit for all that the Dean proposed in the school work. 
 She suspected that he, like all reformers, was over-sanguine, 
 demanding the work of three generations from one, and ex- 
 pecting a single man to give the result of a thousand. She 
 also had good sense enough to doubt if a little more know- 
 ledge of languages, a little better teaching of history and 
 similar acquirements, would seriously help forward morality 
 and independence. But the symbol outweighed these 
 objections of good sense. And it really did seem as if a 
 distinct commission had been given to a special person. 
 Here she was in the Kurt inheritance, well qualified for 
 school work : that was undoubted. Fancy obliterating 
 the evil example with a good one. She had had great 
 practice in that. At all events, it gave her strength. Once 
 determined, she exerted herself to make it go forward, and 
 made others do the same. 
 
 She raised a new loan on her property and renovated the 
 house from top to bottom. All the windows were removed 
 and enlarged. The rooms on the ground-floor, on the right 
 as one comes in from the great steps, remained as they were. 
 But those on the left, in the wing and upstairs, were for the 
 most part altered, in so far as that the doors between them were 
 walled up, so that they only led into the long inner passage. 
 
 The great Knights' Hall on the left hand, just as one 
 comes in from the steps, was made into a gymnasium. The 
 pupils were to assemble there, and morning prayers were to 
 be read in it as well. The double staircase in the passage, 
 which led up to the first-floor, was cut oft from the entrance 
 hall by a wall in which were two doors, one on each side. 
 By this means Fru Rendalen kept the hall for herself. The 
 famous steps only led to it, and to the Knights' Hall on 
 great occasions. 
 
 The teachers had their separate entrance from the court 
 yard, while the lower part of the great, empty, useless tower 
 was converted into an ante-room. Outside, the plaster was 
 removed from the walls, and the red colour of the bricks 
 freshened up. It all looked like new. There was a great 
 pilgrimage up there when it was all finished, and many good 
 wishes were expressed for the new school. 
 
 Tomasine incurred considerable debt — she had to pay a
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 93 
 
 large sum for the school which she took over. But from 
 the first, the influx was unprecedented. Little girls from the 
 country, nay, even from tlie nearest towns, were entered. 
 They were boarded with different people, whom she recom- 
 mended. She did not wish at first to have any in the house. 
 She must regulate the school. 
 
 Sometimes it seemed to her that this simple state of things, 
 a well-regulated school, was what she would never attain to. 
 She got into difficulties, first and foremost, with the staff 
 of teachers. They did not come up to the standard which 
 she proposed. She took on trial, and discharged again, and 
 endured all the discomfort and irregularity, all the over-exer- 
 tion, which are the natural results of such a position, hoping 
 for better days. 
 
 The constant wear and tear, the endless unrest, the 
 anxious cares for money, goaded her on from day to day. 
 The aim that she had originally set herself, the great aim, 
 now seemed almost ludicrous. One thing appeared certain : 
 it was losing her her son ; not his affection, still less his 
 obedience, taken as a whole, nor was it his education ; but 
 her influence on his character, their mutual confidence, her 
 happiness in him. Something impetuous, fantastic, extra- 
 vagant crept into his games, his plans, his expression, which 
 she saw increase in a manner she deeply deplored. When 
 she corrected him she saw a gloomy impatience in the 
 nervous glance of his eyes. She felt herself condemned by 
 his air of superiority. 
 
 Karl's company only increased this failing, for he was 
 himself an enthusiast. She therefore begged Augusta to 
 check the boy's hot mood, and to try to keep him steady by 
 turning his mind to stern realities. But Augusta never 
 entered into any controversy with him on the subject. So 
 Fru Rendalen saw this tendency increase. This spoilt her 
 pleasure in the school when at last, outwardly at any rate, it 
 began to work well. She asked herself what, as a whole, 
 she had gained by this hunted life beyond increased debt, 
 and greatly increased anxiety. But now she was launched 
 into it ; she struggled on from day to day ; a moment's pause 
 would bring all in ruins about her. 
 
 Of all his mother's anxiety Tomas had not the slightest 
 idea. He led a happy life, developing quickly. Karl's 
 large amount of information helped him. Together they
 
 94 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 wove their day-dreams ; together they loved. They devised 
 the strange idea that they would devote themselves to the 
 service and happiness of "the ladies," they and their com- 
 rades, for by degrees several others had been drawn into 
 the circle. And there was more beauty, more variety, in all 
 they hit on since boys and girls were constantly together. 
 
 Tomas's strength increased, but, unlike his parents, he did 
 not promise to be tali. He was remarkably well made, with 
 a very erect gait. His well turned-out feet were so small 
 that he could wear girls' shoes. He was also nearly as slim 
 in the waist as a girl, but broad-shouldered. At twelve 
 years old he took the first boy's prize at a gymnastic 
 display, which had been inaugurated in that part of the 
 country. He had a powerfully shaped head, his cheek- 
 bones strongly marked. His nose had become much bigger 
 than his mother's, which gave him occasion for much fun, 
 she always answering that his was at least as broad as hers 
 at the end. He had small, finely cut lips, his eyes were not 
 large, and seemed smaller still because he frowned and 
 blinked. They were grey in colour, with a restless but 
 sharp expression. His forehead was fair like his father's 
 but his face, neck, and hands were so covered with freckles, 
 that they were as red as his hair, which stood on end, and 
 was generally untidy. 
 
 By the side of the tall dark Karl, with his heavy forehead, 
 hollow eyes, wide, straight mouth, his gentle expression, and 
 slow nature, he seemed to sparkle. He filled his mother 
 with perhaps greater anxiety than there was need for. He 
 had become a true friend to Karl. He loved him heartily. 
 He generally did either love or detest ; there was no 
 moderation in him. Tomas was in his fourteenth year when, 
 in the autumn, it was arranged that he should take a voyage 
 with his uncle, who was the master of a vessel, to Ham- 
 burg, and from thence to England and back. 
 
 The trip had been talked of since the early summer, but 
 had been postponed. Tomas, who was studying privately, 
 could start at any time, and it would be more manly to go 
 at the time of the autumn gales. His preparations were 
 complete ; they were only waiting for a fair wind. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon, Augusta and he were sitting up 
 in an apple-tree — he on a branch to the right, and Augusta 
 on one to the left. They had come to gather the fruit, but
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 95 
 
 the linen bags, which they had spread round them, still hung 
 limp. She had taken hold of a branch, on a level with her 
 head, and rested her head on her arm. She sat and listened 
 to Tomas. They had seen the new doctor, Knut Holmsen, 
 go in to Fru Rendalen, and this wonderful new doctor was 
 one of those whom Tomas loved. He had lately been read- 
 ing with him about the Gracchi in IMommsen's Roman 
 History, and it was about them that he was talking. There 
 was nothing equal to the Gracchi in their own history ; they 
 were his ideals. But in the midst of an ardent disquisition 
 it occurred to him that if he were to be the Gracchi, Augusta 
 must be their mother. There was nothing grander for a 
 woman than to be the daughter of Scipio, and the mother 
 of the Gracchi. 
 
 But Augusta had no desire for this. She could not wish 
 that the mother of the Gracchi should live after her sons 
 were killed. Augusta was always so frightened of death, 
 there was something ugly about it. She sat there with her 
 head on her arm, and said this quietly, as though to herself. 
 She looked very sweet. 
 
 Or was she tired ? he asked. No, she was not tired, but 
 she wished so much to be quiet. Well, they could easily 
 sit a little longer. She altered her position, and they went 
 on talking. 
 
 Supposing the mother of the Gracchi met her sons in 
 heaven? But would the Gracchi and she go to heaven? 
 They did not believe in Jesus. After some discussion the 
 children agreed that now they could be taught about Jesus, 
 and therefore naturally they had gone to heaven. 
 
 But after that, what would they do there? Augusta 
 shuddered, Eternity was so frightful. She hid her face, and 
 when she lifted it again, she had been crying. He sat a long 
 time and looked at her. 
 
 " Listen, Augusta," he said, " neither of us will die till we 
 have grown dreadfully old, so old that we cannot even walk. 
 It can't be the same then, can it? " 
 
 Augusta smiled. " That time you gave me the ever- 
 lastings, you said I was to think of you when you were dead, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, I was so frightfully miserable that day, and then I 
 had got that picture of King Edward's sons. Augusta ! " 
 
 "Well?"
 
 96 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 "At sea, in the autumn gales — they are often very 
 dangerous, the autumn gales, you know — I shall have myself 
 lashed fast, and I will write to you exactly what I think. 
 And then you must write down what you think when you 
 read it." 
 
 "That might prove dangerous," laughed Augusta. She 
 was older. 
 
 He felt embarrassed, so there was silence. But all the 
 time he looked at her plump figure, good-natured face, her 
 heavy braids, and long eyelashes. She sat looking down 
 — yes, she had grown now, she had quite a figure. And 
 those wrists, those characteristic firm hands. He sat and 
 gazed at her for a long time, and then said, " Augusta." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Karl will write to me every day. Mother has promised 
 him the money. Could not you put a few lines in too^eh ! " 
 
 " Every day, Tomas ! That would be very often." 
 
 "But all the same . . . ." 
 
 " Interesting things won't happen to me every day, you 
 see, Tomas ; it would be only stupid." 
 
 She looked at him simply. " But," he answered, " people 
 who care for each other always do write." 
 
 He was crimson and turned away. She would be sure to 
 laugh. But she did not laugh. In a few minutes he heard 
 her say (he did not turn round), " Yes, yes, then I will," 
 and she devoted herself to gathering the apples. 
 
 At the same time Fru Rendalen and the doctor were 
 standing by the parlour window. 
 
 She looked by turns at him, and out towards the children 
 in the apple-tree. The doctor had just told her that Lars 
 Tobiassen had become raving mad, and that his son had 
 been frightened, and gone mad also. He had been near it 
 for a long time. " ' Kurt inheritance,' the people on the 
 mountain say there have been so many mad Kurts there, 
 men and women." Fru Rendalen had answered that she 
 was aware of that, and that both before Tomas's birth, and 
 for some time afterwards, she had felt frightened. She was 
 safe now though — " although," and she laughed, " Tomas 
 has something unreasonably exaggerated and fantastic about 
 him." 
 
 She looked inquiringly at the doctor, who answered, 
 " Yes, his nerves are good for nothing."
 
 THE LAST YEARS IN THE GARDEN. 97 
 
 Dr. Knut Holmsen was one of those men who are fore- 
 ordained to be bachelors, though some chance may drift 
 them into matrimony; who never trouble themselves to 
 think or feel with any one else, but always look at things 
 from their own point of view. So now he blurted out this 
 answer as a matter of course. It frightened her, however, 
 terribly. 
 
 " Could Tomas become mad ? " she asked. 
 
 He had not intended to say that ; he therefore answered, 
 " Not he, but his children." 
 
 She came and stared at him, her face as white as a sheet, 
 and from him out into the garden. 
 
 " Do you know what you are saying ? " she asked. 
 
 Holmsen coloured, for this rough man was particularly 
 faint-hearted. And, to relieve his embarrassment, he began 
 to talk about a book which he had just read, one that every 
 one ought to read — 
 
 " Prosper Lucas on Heredity " {^Eh'eredite naturelle). 
 
 The two young people in the apple-tree soon afterwards 
 saw Dr. Knut Holmsen go down to the town, accompanied 
 by Fru Rendalen, and a little later she returned, with two 
 large volumes under her arm. 
 
 The following evening Tomas sailed, and remained away 
 for two months. At both the ports which he visited he 
 found letters, written every day since he sailed by the faith- 
 ful Karl, as well as a few lines enclosed by his mother, but 
 not a line from Augusta. She was ill, had a heart complaint 
 — an enlarged heart, it was said. And Tomas remembered 
 that latterly she had always wanted to be in the open air. 
 She had pains in her heart, but a courageous girl like 
 Augusta would naturally never succumb. She would get 
 quite well again. 
 
 The ship returned to port late one evening. No one at 
 •' The Estate " had any idea of it before Tomas flung himself 
 on to his mother's neck, in the parlour, as she sat there over 
 her accounts. 
 
 " Tomas 1 " she exclaimed, almost as though she were 
 seriously frightened, and that made him all the more crazy 
 with delight. He clung to her portly person with all his 
 strength .... then .... he noticed that she was crying. 
 Astonished, he relinquished his hold, looked at her, and 
 flung himself down with his head on the table, sobbing loudly. 
 
 G
 
 98 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Augusta had died two days before. The next morning he 
 went with his mother down to the shoemaker's house to 
 take some flowers ; awe-struck, and with his eyes red with 
 crying. Fru Rendalen chose to enter by the door at the side 
 of the house : she wished to go in by the back way. And thus 
 Nils Hansen saw her from the workshop, and came out at once. 
 
 Tomas was a Uttle behind. It affected him so much to 
 go in by the old well-known way, that he could not come 
 forward directly. When Nils Hansen observed him, 
 Augusta's playfellow and greatest friend, he burst into violent 
 weeping and left them. It was just the same with Fru 
 Hansen. She was in the large room, occupied with the 
 dead. Her second girl, two years younger than Augusta, 
 was sitting on the floor beside her mother, when Fru 
 Rendalen opened the door and went in. 
 
 Laura came towards her and thanked her for coming 
 down again. She appeared composed, but when the heart- 
 broken Tomas came forward with his flowers, she sank down 
 on a chair and began to cry violently, the child crying with 
 her. Tomas could not bear it. He laid the flowers down, 
 he did not know where, and ran home again. He had seen 
 the heavy braids under the white band, a sleeping face, and 
 the everlastings between the folded hands. He knew them 
 again by the ribbon. 
 
 What a tie Fru Rendalen felt the school at this time, for 
 the sore little heart constantly yearned towards her. She 
 was so anxious about Tomas, lest his tendency to extra- 
 vagance of feeling should receive fresh nourishment from his 
 sorrow, nor could she discover how she might be able to 
 prevent thi-s without depriving him of his one consolation. 
 She was astonished when she saw that Augusta's death had 
 had just the contrary efiect. 
 
 Augusta had feared death, perhaps immortality still more ; 
 he was convinced of this, and so would not try to think of 
 her there. It seemed like tormenting her. Most children 
 shudder at the thought of being immortal. 
 
 It was Karl in especial who wished to dwell on this 
 theme, but he had to be silent, Tomas would not allow it. 
 It was against her wishes to try to think of her as dwelling 
 in Eternity, he was sure of that. Karl gave in ; it was not 
 immortality itself which his friend doubted about, so he 
 humoured him.
 
 THE LECTURE. 
 
 99 
 
 Did not Tomas ever try to bring Augusta up before his 
 mind ? Yes, whenever he ran his fingers over the piano, he 
 was in her company — they had sat side by side there. 
 
 It was of the past that he thought. His mother was 
 astonished when one day, having given her a rather quick 
 answer, he returned at once and threw himself upon her 
 neck ; she was so used to his hasty ways that, when he was 
 not actually rude, she often took no notice ; she looked at 
 him, " What is it ? " He coloured and laid his head down 
 on her shoulder, as he always did when he did not wish her 
 to look at him while he was speaking. " Yes ; once when 
 I answered you sharply, Augusta came out after me on 
 to the steps, and said, ' Tomas, you should never answer 
 your mother like that.' I did not think anything of it then, 
 but now — now — I remembered it when I got out on the 
 steps." 
 
 During this time they read bits at random out of Lucas's 
 work. The wonderful proofs of heredity in talents and 
 character, coming out even after very long intervals, im- 
 pressed Tomas strongly. He had a perfect mass of ques- 
 tions which he took to the doctor. 
 
 Little by little he occupied himself as before, but he 
 became quieter. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LECTURE. 
 
 One spring afternoon in the beginning of May, fourteen 
 years later, a great number of people took their way up 
 the avenue to " The Estate." Real-Katididat Tomas 
 Rendalen was to give a lecture at the opening of the new 
 gymnasium which had been built in the courtyard there ; 
 using the opportunity to explain the plan on which he in- 
 tended to conduct the school ; he proposed to take it over 
 the following August. It was known that this had been his 
 intention, even before he became a student at Christiania ; 
 that he had no other object in life, either then or later ; that 
 after he had passed his examinations, he had taught in differ- 
 ent boys' and girls' schools, and during several years had 
 made himself familiar with both, in Germany, Switzerland,
 
 too THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 France, England, and last of all in America ; he said that it 
 was in the last-named country that he had especially found 
 what he wanted. 
 
 He had declared that the development of his whole life 
 might be found in the lecture which he would deliver that day, 
 and this seemed strange to every one ; all became curious. 
 During the four or five months that he had been at home 
 he had had the gymnasium built, having turned the Knights' 
 Hall into a place where chemistry and physics could be 
 studied ; people did not clearly understand what these were, 
 but they hoped to find out some day. The tower was turned 
 into a little observatory. 
 
 There had been, for some time past, a continual delivery 
 and unpacking of what Rendalen called school apparatus ; 
 the most wonderful specimens were shown to the children. 
 These purchases and his endless journeys had cost no small 
 sum. How had the money been provided ? Quite by chance 
 Fru Rendalen had discovered that the woods had been 
 sold from *' The Estate" on different terms; some before, 
 and some after, the farms to which they belonged had been 
 disposed of. Some of these woods had been merely sold 
 for clearing, and the land itself thus still belonged to " The 
 Estate." But as it had lain long unused, the fact had been 
 forgotten, and the woods had been by degrees absorbed 
 into the surrounding properties. Fru Rendalen lost several 
 lawsuits over this, but she gained others, and it was there- 
 fore good Norse timber which had paid for Karl's and 
 Toraas's studies. 
 
 Tomas had taken up science, Karl theology; both of 
 them going abroad. Karl had come home again after two 
 years' absence. Tomas had travelled. During the few months 
 that he had been at home he had given lectures to the girls 
 in the senior classes, especially on Natural Science. For 
 example, he explained to them the very newest discoveries 
 in regard to the activity of the brain, showing them large 
 diagrams. When the children repeated to their parents how 
 these discoveries were made, they began to wish to hear about 
 them as well. And it was not rare to see elder sisters, 
 mothers, or sometimes even fathers, sitting squeezed in 
 among the children in the class-room, listening to him. It 
 can thus be easily understood why the gathering on the 
 present occasion was so large.
 
 THE LECTURE. loi 
 
 Tomas was an ugly, red-haired, freckled fellow, with a 
 somewhat broad nose, and grey screwed-up eyes, with no 
 eyebrows, or at all events no visible ones, and with a thin- 
 lipped mouth like his father's. Yet it was said that the 
 whole school was crazy about him ! People wanted to see 
 and hear what on earth it was all about ; three ladies to one 
 gentleman assembled up at " The Estate." 
 
 A path had been made to the right from the great steps, 
 past the front of the house, and further round the wing, to 
 the courtyard at the back, which was the usual school road. 
 The new gymnasium was in the courtyard as well. There 
 was a man stationed at its entrance to-day, and a crowd 
 of people stood before it who had been refused admit- 
 tance, and who protested loudly against this treatment. 
 
 It was Andreas Berg who was on the watch that only 
 •'parents " came in. 
 
 This had been clearly stated in the invitation, but it had 
 been overlooked or misunderstood, or else people thought 
 they might as well try all the same, and they were now 
 making a disturbance over it. 
 
 They were, of course, mostly young. 
 
 There was great merriment when some elder person, who 
 was not recognised as a parent, was refused admission. 
 Anton Dosen, called also " French Dosen " because he had 
 lived several years in France, and who now had a shop 
 for French fancy goods, almost exactly opposite the Frokener 
 Jensens at Bommem, presented himself as a "father," and 
 wished to enter — ^lie had never been married, this same 
 French Dosen. Immense amusement ! 
 
 The solemn, unmoved Andreas Berg turned him back, 
 and French Dosen asked what the deuce was wanted be- 
 fore he could get in? Must he go to the town, and get 
 the clergyman's attestation that he was a father ? 
 
 French Dosen had always had the privilege of trumpeting 
 forth his peccadilloes. It amused people to hear of them. 
 His shop was much frequented, notwithstanding his light 
 morals and talk. His competition with the two crooked 
 Frokener Jensens, as regarded millinery, was not hazardous. 
 But see, there actually are the Frokener Jensens, and they 
 have got in ! Enormous delight in the assembled com- 
 pany. For there could be no doubt that neither Froken 
 Jensen had Ixid a child. Heavens forfend 1
 
 102 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Andreas Berg explained that that was because they had 
 a niece at school. The reason they had no children ? No ! 
 that they were admitted. They stood in the place of 
 parents. 
 
 " But," observed Dosen, " it must be more to be a father, 
 than to stand in a father's place." Great applause ! Beside, 
 did he not stand in the place of a father to all those to whom 
 he gave food and wages ? Did he not now ? Andreas 
 Berg would admit nothing. 
 
 At this moment arrived the town bailiff and his wife. 
 Berg would not allow them to pass, any more than the 
 others, for they were not parents, nor had they any adopted 
 children at school. Dosen cried " Bravo," and clapped his 
 hands, and a number of others with him. 
 
 There was a storm of laughter, for the town bailiff was 
 well known and little liked. So they looked forward to 
 some fun. 
 
 He was so furious for the moment that he could not 
 speak, but stuttered and gesticulated. He was a tall, thin 
 fellow, with spectacles, and a smile — not of good-humour 
 or anything of that kind — no, there was a sourness about it 
 which was impressed on his whole countenance. 
 
 At last he found his tongue, and asked Andreas Berg if 
 he were mad. And his wife, who dearly loved on such 
 occasions to push herself forward, remarked that no meeting 
 in the town could be closed to the town bailiff. 
 
 This did not make the very smallest impression on 
 Andreas Berg. He busied himself in opening to some 
 others who came up, and who really were parents, and shut 
 the door again. 
 
 Dosen now took up the town bailiff's cause. Andreas 
 Berg ought to understand that if the town bailiff had no 
 children, that was not his fault, nor his wife's either. Terrific 
 applause ! " The paradise of parents could not be closed 
 against the bailiff on that account, as long as ....;" he 
 could go no further. For the bailiff asked if he were mad. 
 " Yes, in your cause, sir," answered Dosen. What peals of 
 laughter ! 
 
 At the same moment shoemaker Nils Hansen came up 
 with his little wife. Hundreds of times in his Hfe the 
 baihff had asked him if /le were mad, so Nils Hansen 
 laughed as soon as he heard the words. 
 
 " Who is mad now ? " he asked.
 
 THE LECTURE. 103 
 
 " Andreas Berg," answered the town bailiff. 
 
 " No, I," shouted Dosen. 
 
 " It's the town bailiff himself," cried out several in the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Imagine," said the bailiff to Nils Hansen, "Andreas 
 Berg has had the impudence to — to — to — prevent my wife 
 and me from — from — going in " 
 
 One saw that Nils Hansen found this amusing, but Laura, 
 on the other hand, was astonished, and questioned Berg, 
 " Dear me, how is this ? " 
 
 But if she thought she would induce Berg to answer, she 
 was very much mistaken. He opened the door for them. 
 " FcBrs'go," he said, and they felt obliged to go in, but they 
 heard Dosen call after them : " The bailiff" and his wife 
 may not go in, because they have no children." 
 
 This was also heard inside the hall ; a sound of laughter 
 from a hundred voices came rippling out ; and another 
 wave of boisterous mirth rolled towards the door as it was 
 closed after Nils Hansen. While conversation went on in 
 the hall, a new excitement arose outside. The sheriff had 
 come. His wife had brought a lady, a stranger, with her, 
 whom Berg would not admit ; only " parents" were invited, 
 he repeated firmly. He knew this lady was called ^'■Broken * 
 Krieger " ; she had bought some flowers from him. 
 
 The sheriff, often nicknamed "the ladies' man, "a fair-haired 
 man with a sharp waggish face, looked up at the two dismayed 
 ladies ; they were both standing at the top of the steps, very 
 red in the face. His wife had always supposed that any 
 lady she brought would of course not be refused admittance, 
 and yet this had occurred; they were fairly "caught out," both 
 she and her friend — a butt for the laughter of Dosen and his 
 companions, and stared at pityingly by a number of people 
 whom she did not know, for she was but newly come to the 
 town. She was a handsome woman, with an intellectual 
 face, tall and slender, but she looked quite terrified now ; 
 her eyes wandered helplessly from one to another, and at 
 last they fixed themselves imploringly upon her husband, 
 who stood down below with the others and laughed at 
 them. " Is it so dangerous for Froken Krieger to come 
 in ? " she asked. Roars of laughter. Apparently this 
 annoyed Berg, he came up without warning and pushed 
 the lady gently to one side in order to open the door for 
 
 * MUs.
 
 104 'I'HE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 some more people. A number of ladies, all married and 
 with children at school, now came up and passed in ; the 
 unlucky wife of the sheriff tripped down the steps, her friend 
 following her, looking rather embarrassed ; there was a short 
 exchange of words which ended in the departure of the 
 friend ; she would go alone, and ran off when the gallant 
 sheriff offered to accompany her ; the sheriff himself being 
 nearly run over by a carriage with two large Danish horses, 
 driven by a coachman in grey livery. 
 
 It was Consul Engel and his wife who were arriving. 
 They drove right up into the courtyard because Fru Engel 
 was delicate. Nothing could have been more careful, more 
 tender, more charming than the manner in which the 
 consul helped his wife from the phaeton ; he almost carried 
 her in. He was a handsome man, with a noble face ; his 
 well-known smile was more friendly than ever as he passed 
 through the crowd with his gentle burden. She was hand- 
 some too, the expression of her eyes wise and painful, or 
 rather perhaps painfully wise ; the same expression lay in the 
 lines of the mouth and in the thin cheeks. Through the 
 whole of her slow progress from the carriage to the steps, 
 and her toilsome ascent to the door, she was followed by 
 the startled, bird-like eyes of the sheriff's wife. They 
 hovered over the invalid till they seemed to fill the air with 
 interrogation. From her they passed on to the consul, 
 from his eyes back again to those of his wife. 
 
 What in the world did they want ? They filled with tears, 
 she wiped them hurriedly with a shy glance round. At the 
 same moment the sheriff came up to take her in. She 
 was startled, coloured, smiled — nay, laughed. Lord knows 
 what at. 
 
 Fru Emmy Wingaard, young and blooming, passed at the 
 moment. The sheriff whispered something to her which 
 made her laugh. He asked if they should not all sit to- 
 gether. Fru Emmy Wingaard's maiden name had been 
 Fiirst ; she had curly fair hair and lively eyes ; she gave 
 several glances across to Dosen, the special friend of her 
 brother, the naval lieutenant. Dosen made a despairing 
 face and hung his head. She understood that he could not 
 come in, and crossed her well-gloved fingers mockingly at 
 him ; she passed on. How pretty and merry she was ; she 
 was so like her brother Niels Fiirst, the lion of this and all
 
 THE LECTURE. 105 
 
 the neighbouring coast towns. If any one doubted that 
 Niels Furst was the hon of the neighbourhood, let them ask 
 the lady who followed Fru Emmy; let them ask Kaja 
 Grondal, the wife of the engineer who is never at home. 
 Ask her whether Niels Fiirst, who is very often at home, is 
 not the favourite cavalier in all the towns round, and the 
 vigorous lady will look at you without a blush and ask again 
 if any one doubted it ? The gallant sheriff let all the ladies 
 pass in first, saying a few friendly words to Andreas Berg, 
 who made no reply. At the same moment Berg saw Fru 
 Rendalen, escorted by her son, but behind them were the 
 town bailiff and his wife ; they all four came out from the 
 pupils' entrance in the principal building — the one through 
 the tower. So the town bailiff must have forced himself in 
 to Fru Rendalen to complain ! Would Berg perhaps be 
 put in the wrong before all these ill-behaved young people 
 because he had strictly obeyed orders ? 
 
 They came straight towards the principal entrance, instead 
 of going to the other door, which led into the ante-room 
 where the pupils' gymnastic dresses hung. It could be for 
 no other reason than to obtain admittance for the town 
 bailiff that they came this way. 
 
 Fru Rendalen and her son were saluted by those who 
 were nearest ; Berg opened the door, she mounted the steps, 
 but then stood back and actually did let the town bailiff 
 and his wife pass in, her son following them. She remained 
 standing. She was a large woman now, the hair under her 
 cap iron-grey, her face brown and stern, the eyes behind her 
 spectacles brightening its expression. She had done some 
 good work, and was convinced that she ought to be shown 
 respect. 
 
 " All of you who do not belong here will be so kind as to 
 go ; we must have perfect quiet here now." 
 
 She had hardly spoken before one or two began to move ; 
 when the farthest away had disappeared round the corner, 
 the others followed their example ; there was a little titter- 
 ing, a few whispered witticisms, but they went. Andreas 
 Berg was the only one who was inclined to grumble ; it had 
 been hard about the town bailiff. " No more will come 
 now, you can go in too, Berg ; many thanks ! " and it was 
 all settled. 
 
 She went in herself, those nearest rose and bowed, fcr
 
 io6 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 they were for the most part her former pupils, and this was 
 the old custom. But when they did so the whole assem- 
 blage rose, too, by degrees. 
 
 She bowed right and left, and then took her seat by the 
 side of the tribune which stood on the pktform. She looked 
 across at the audience. Every place was occupied ; some 
 few men were standing in the gangway; these now had 
 chairs given to them ; they were brought in by an old woman. 
 Tomas Rendalen was standing by the window talking to 
 Dr. Holmsen. This gentleman was somewhat fat and florid. 
 His large prominent eyes had a mixed expression of sarcasm 
 and slyness ; he stood there, half smiling, half embarrassed, 
 with one hand playing with his brown, slightly grizzled beard 
 as he listened to Rendalen. 
 
 Tomas Rendalen was his complete opposite — decided, 
 fiery, eloquent. The school children had been eager to tell 
 that he used scent, and truly — it wafted from him as from 
 some fine lady. There was something precise, too, about 
 his linen, and about the way in which his grey coat, of the 
 most enviably new cut, fitted him. He was well-built and 
 very elastic in all his movements. While he whispered to 
 the doctor he had a nervous, impressive manner, as though 
 every moment were of the greatest importance. 
 
 Suddenly he broke off and hurried across the room, for the 
 door had opened once more, and those entered for whom 
 apparently he had been waiting — old Green, led by Karl 
 Vangen. 
 
 Yes, now he was c/^ Green ; a bowed old man who walked 
 cautiously forward, led by tall Pastor Vangen. Karl's face was 
 one of those which do not easily alter; the large forehead, 
 the honest eyes, the deep eye-sockets, and the wide mouth 
 with its slight smile, which Tomas had in his time made such 
 fun of, were all just the same as before, only on a taller body. 
 Tomas came forward to salute the old man, and walked 
 respectfully beside him to where an armchair had been 
 placed for him, beside Fru Rendalen, upon the platform. 
 Karl Vangen sat down beside him, and Tomas Rendalen 
 mounted the tribune. 
 
 He pushed his nervous, freckled hands through his red hair, 
 making it stand still higher up ; felt for his pocket-handker- 
 chief, took hold of the water-bottle, then moved some things 
 off the desk ; he was a dreadfully restless fellow.
 
 THE LECTURE. 107 
 
 He peered through his half-closed grey eyes, now here, 
 now there, finally at his mother and old Green, smiled at 
 Karl and began. His voice was a tenor, full, mellow, and 
 practised, so that it sounded pleasantly. 
 
 To the utter astonishment of the assembled company, he 
 said that it was principally on the subject of morality that 
 he wished to speak ; it was principally for a moral object 
 that this hall had been built. 
 
 The whole course of education in the school would, still 
 more than before, have morality for its aim. 
 
 In order that he might speak freely on the subject, it had 
 been necessary to restrict the audience entirely to parents, 
 or those who stood in their stead, and who might be expected, 
 for that reason, to treat a serious matter in a serious spirit. 
 
 There was a seriousness about himself which was com- 
 bined with but little acuteness : he almost threatened them. 
 He did not in the least perceive how horrified this meeting 
 of provincial townsj^eople at once became ; he took their 
 embarrassment for a kind of awe, for something of the 
 solemn feeling of a meeting in church. He continued : 
 
 " Not alone for woman's sake must this subject be seriously 
 approached, but for man's sake as well. All take care of 
 themselves, men as well as women, but woman had the in- 
 centive to watch over her own interests, so she stood higher 
 as a companion and in society. 
 
 " It was in this that the school ought, better than before, to 
 aid her. 
 
 " The venerable man who sat on his right once said to him, 
 that only those families succumbed to drunkenness whose 
 ner/es had first been thoroughly weakened by a dissolute 
 life. In such families the habit of drunkenness very easily 
 becomes hereditary ; I think that more than this can be 
 traced to the same cause. Addiction to pleasure — that 
 undoubtedly often grows in vigorous soil ; but a man may 
 appear vigorous enough and still be excessively enervated. 
 That characterlessness which is incapable of overcoming 
 opposition is, as a rule, the result of the forefathers' sensuality 
 with the addition of his own ; every kind of moral and in- 
 tellectual looseness and dulness, when it spreads in a family 
 which has at one time taken a foremost place, can, for the 
 most part, be traced back to this cause. At all events, it is 
 the strongest among several. Our passion, our hastiness,
 
 io8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 our impatience, our exaggeration, our irritability — unless, 
 indeed, they can be traced to some accident in our bringing 
 up, some purely accidental state of health — find their 
 strongest cause here. 
 
 "All such are weaknesses contracted in the course of 
 several generations ; perhaps increased in the later ones. 
 
 " The investigations on this subject are so recent that we 
 cannot yet bring forward such strong proofs as we beheve 
 to exist ; it is only lately that the work of seriously minded 
 men and women has been concentrated on this object, as 
 the most important possible. But those who realise that 
 this is the case are still few. Therefore schools are not by 
 any means able to cope with the subject ; especially girls' 
 schools, which are absolutely bad. 
 
 " The girls' school which we are now in is, as a place of 
 education, as good as any in the country. I have satisfied 
 myself on that point, but it has been the greatest regret of 
 the principal, during the whole course of her labours, that 
 the aim which she originally set before herself, that of 
 giving a larger share to moral than to general education, 
 has not been attained to. It is on this point that my 
 mother has conferred with me more than on any other, so 
 that at last it became my daily thought. 
 
 " My parentage, my education, my career have in more 
 ways than one prepared this work for me." 
 
 [His voice trembled a little, and he was obliged to pause, 
 his mother was affected : general wonderment.] 
 
 " ' Woman's moral training ' ? most of you will object, ' is 
 there anything amiss with it? Among the lower orders 
 perhaps, but in the refined classes of the town is it not ex- 
 cellent ? Protected by religion, in the pure atmosphere of 
 home, in the regular work of school, in a guarded life passed 
 among those of the same age and sex.' Yes, and what 
 results from all this ? 
 
 " Let me merely in passing take the pure atmosphere of 
 home. In a seaport town— all will admit it — the strongest 
 current is by no means a moral one. Traders and sailors, as 
 is unavoidable from their mode of life, are among the worst 
 in respect to morality. No one dare deny it. An early 
 wandering life takes the morals on to very slippery ground, 
 and a merchant's business, where the percentage of profit 
 fluctuates as it is honestly, or dishonestly gained, does not
 
 THE LECTURE. 109 
 
 Strengthen the moral life. His cultivation is, as a rule, very 
 slight, his reading confined to a few newspapers, or perhaps 
 novels ; his intercourse, outside his own occupation and 
 family, next to nothing, so that here there is little counterpoise. 
 A sailor's life is, as a rule, one without ties, passed in every 
 sort of company, in all parts of the world ; in nine cases out 
 of ten the master is an uncultivated man, perhaps a rough 
 one, often tyrannised over by his "owners," and almost always 
 tyrannical himself when opportunity offers. As things 
 stand with us at present, when the skipper has learned to 
 filch a percentage from the freight, as well as from every- 
 thing he buys for the use of the ship, even to the very water — 
 I know such cases ! — systematic robbery, one may say — we 
 can understand that high principles will not be cultivated in 
 such a life. And but a rough example is given, as a rule, to 
 the subordinates. 
 
 " The return of men such as these by no means strengthens 
 the desire for morality in the town, or increases its stock of 
 character. As regards the homes, those of the skippers 
 especially, we can conceive that the children's bringing-up 
 must have received a strong bias ; or, if every one cannot 
 imagine it, I will lay it out before you." 
 
 [I wish that my readers could have seen the horror, the 
 confusion, the shamefacedness of the assembly, the rage of 
 some, of three sunburnt skippers, for example ! Others gazed 
 uneasily into their hats, or at the backs of those before 
 them. Some there were, however, who delighted in the 
 scandal ! They alone ventured to look up, their eyes turned 
 eagerly towards the smiling Engel, the skippers, the trades- 
 men, the sheriff, and their wives — towards all, indeed, who on 
 one account or another must sit on the stool of repentance. 
 There were women ready to cry with shame, anger, and 
 vexation at being there ; they were prepared to fly at any 
 moment, but dared not actually do so. There were men 
 who thought, " If this goes half an inch further — by all the 
 devils I shall be off." But they did not move. When the 
 doctor blew his nose, tliey were all as startled as though it 
 had lightened.] 
 
 " Many people firmly believe that if a child sees nothing 
 indecent at home, and hears no doubtful stories, every- 
 thing has been done which can be done, especially if 
 they are heedful that the child himself does nothing
 
 no THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 improper. I contend that if no more than this is done, a 
 child is exposed to every possible evil. Here people rave 
 about the innocence of ignorance; there is something 
 concerning that subject which I cannot now speak about — 
 I shall take an opportunity of doing so later; I confine 
 myself at present to saying that that innocence which knows 
 what the danger is, and has fought against it from youth up, 
 that innocence alone is strong. All education which tends 
 to further this object must have, as an absolute condition, 
 fu/l confidence between the child and its parents — at any rate, 
 between the child ai>d its mother ; or, to carry out the whole 
 of my idea, between the child and that parent who is most 
 fitted to gain its confidence ; for this is, in itself, a special 
 gift, and if neither of the parents has it, which may easily 
 happen, then find some one who has. Use all means to 
 accomplish this. 
 
 " If the child's father be a man who has not honourably 
 fought the fight (it must come to him sooner or later), he 
 is then, not only the fifth wheel in the coach, which would 
 go all the same, but, as a rule, an actual hindrance. For 
 there is often something in his manner, his speech, his ways 
 which wounds or tempts ; those subjects which should be 
 seriously and firmly dealt with become with him almost amus- 
 ing ; they are treated as things to be lightly touched upon. 
 
 " In this town, such as I know it, and indeed as you know 
 it who have grown up in the place and become sharp-sighted 
 in regard to it — in this town, I think, most houses are weak 
 in this respect. The fathers give no help, the attempts of 
 the mothers to keep up a thorough confidence as between 
 comrades, are certainly great, but they rarely succeed, they do 
 not understand how to do it. Till this is altered, the work 
 at school for the cause of morality will prove deceptive, for 
 it can easily place a child between noble teaching and evil 
 practice ; a knowledge of evil unsupported by watchful con- 
 fidence may easily itself become a temptation. St. Paul 
 has pointed this out. 
 
 '* I forewarn you for this reason : our work at first will 
 often rise up in witness against us, but for all that there is no 
 other course open to us — no, no other. Do we not know 
 that there is one particular epoch of life for which, more 
 than for any other time, it is necessary to provide and to 
 secure means of helping? How to do this is the question.
 
 THE LECTURE. IM 
 
 Ask any doctor, ask any experienced teacher, if this is not 
 the case. 
 
 "My mother, whom I am justified in calling an experienced 
 teacher, can bear witness that at this period of change most 
 girls deteriorate in that they lose their openness, and much 
 of, or all, their industry and sense of order; something strange 
 and of a mixed nature seems to enter into their composition 
 — very different, however, with different individuals. Re- 
 member, she says, 'that this is the case with the majority; 
 there are exceptions, but this is the rule.'" 
 
 [Looking at the audience, you would have thought that 
 these remarks applied only to women, and not to men. For 
 the men looked openly and unblushingly at the women, 
 which only made the moment more painful for the latter, 
 especially for those who were known to all the world as 
 having been pupils of Fru Rendalen.] 
 
 " Therefore it is precisely on this point that our work must 
 be brought to bear, it must be conyoletely prepared to meet 
 this physical change, and everything must be directed to 
 this end. 
 
 "For it is no use denying that this exists, or shutting one's 
 eyes to it. It is the most important thing that a teacher 
 can be concerned with. What, compared to this, which 
 really means the preservation of body and soul, are, say, a 
 knowledge ot languages, instruction in the piano or in 
 feminine neatness, but mere luxuries. History, geography, 
 arithmetic, writing, are of rather more value, but even they 
 are of secondary or even third-rate importance. 
 
 "Well, but religion, you will say, does not that often help ? 
 Ah ! what do you understand by that word ? Knowledge of 
 God and of the moral laws is, of course, a most needful 
 knowledge, but it is only when such knowledge influences 
 the conduct that it becomes effective. // is very rarely that 
 it does this. Do not build too much on a faith that may be 
 lost. It is only a minority on whom religious belief has a 
 lasting effect. We do not realise this, because with us 
 religion is almost the only thing which holds its own — out- 
 side, that is, of our large towns. Religion appears to us to 
 be powerful, because we have not yet acquired the habit of 
 looking about us, and because most of us are a good deal 
 given to deceiving ourselves. 
 
 ** Children, in matters of this sort, do not really stand on a
 
 112 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 different level from adults ; do not imagine that they do so. 
 They can, it is true, be very easily led, but they can be 
 brought with even more ease and more completely to forget 
 one thing and take up another. It takes very little to make 
 them believe, but it takes still less to make them doubt, so 
 that the ratio between belief and unbeHef remains the same. 
 Those whose religious belief forms a lasting restraint on 
 their moral character are, among children as among adults, 
 but few. 
 
 " There are four clergymen present. T ask them if they 
 can rise and contradict me. I do not believe that they feel 
 any inclination to do so." 
 
 [A short pause. All eyes were fixed upon such of the 
 clergymen as they could see. The four reverend gentlemen 
 sat as unmovable as graven images.] 
 
 " Do I hold then, you ask, that religion is of no import- 
 ance in a school ? Much the contrary ! But there should be 
 no class of religious instruction which does not partake of the 
 thorough earnestness of a religious lecture. Let it as often 
 as possible be given by the person who will have the prepara- 
 tion of the child for confirmation — that is to say, generally by 
 the clergyman. I would say entirely by him, if that could 
 be arranged. Thus the relation of the clergyman to the 
 teacher would be that of a support to the latter. 
 
 " I cannot go further into this question ; I will only add 
 that this is the arrangement adopted for our school. The 
 friend of my youth, my brother. Pastor Karl Vangen, will 
 take the children between six and sixteen every morning for 
 religious instruction and edification, and the intention is 
 that he shall conduct their whole religious training until 
 their confirmation. But it follows from what I have said 
 that he can only hope to make the relationship of deep and 
 lasting value for a very few. It is only right that this fact 
 should be realised in schools." 
 
 " Lately," continued the speaker after another very short 
 pause, " an attempt has been made to set up the study of 
 history and of general literature as branches of knowledge 
 which have an influence in the formation of character. 
 When these studies have been more fully adapted as subjects 
 of instruction than they have yet been, they will have more 
 importance in this respect. 
 
 "Undoubted assistance was, of course," he went on,
 
 THE LECTURE. 1 13 
 
 " always to be gained from these studies. The child learned 
 to know of good, great, and noble thoughts, and obtahied 
 a grasp, if only a slight one, of the course of human history, 
 as well as the history of single peoples or great men. But 
 it can never be a matter of the Jirsf importance to hear 
 about others." 
 
 [The audience now become curious. Where would he get 
 to at last? They felt that something important was coming.] 
 
 He leaned forward over the tribune and said slowly : 
 
 " ' The most important form of knowledge which a man 
 can acquire, is the knowledge how to regulate his own life ; 
 the next, how to regulate the lives of those who come after 
 him.' 
 
 " These words of Herbert Spencer maybe taken as a rule 
 of life for the whole world. Until this also is made the 
 thing of most importance in schooo, other subjects will not 
 fall into their right places in the whole scheme of instruction 
 or the arrangements subsidiary thereto. But the task of 
 learning self-restraint, of learning to guide our offspring, this 
 is the moral aim and the only stable ground of all in- 
 struction. 
 
 " If at an early age you obtain adequate knowledge of how 
 your body is constructed and how it works, and if you also 
 learn to know how you can benefit or injure it, and through 
 yourself those who will be born to you, or who may be de- 
 pendent on you, this knowledge not only becomes your 
 great-est safeguard if you ivill use it, but as a rule it gives 
 you a desire to do so. 
 
 " A feeling of self-respect is aroused more strongly by 
 knowledge than in any other way, but that this may be the 
 result, the knowledge must not be imparted too late. I 
 need not say that ordinary schools give far too little in- 
 struction of this kind, and that little not as it should be 
 given. The pupils must understand why it is given ; the 
 teacher must be open, thorough, with no concealments, for 
 the very things which are usually kept out of sight are the 
 most important. 
 
 " I speak of that period of life to which I have before 
 alluded. Is the child ever told what that is which is begin- 
 ning ? I mean, has it full, absolute knowledge? does it know 
 what temptations will come, or why they will come ? Has 
 it learned how they are to be met ? or how at that time it 
 
 H
 
 114 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 can create conditions for health, and through its health its 
 character, good-humour, happiness? — that on that time 
 hangs its future life, nay, that of its offspring ? Is that 
 taught in such a way as to be branded, so to say, into the 
 child's will? Have the subjects of which I spoke been 
 raised to a level of one which here, and now, might guide 
 the scholar's fancy by noble incentive, strong purpose, en- 
 thusiasm ? for children, especially young girls, can be made 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 "Or, to come down to what every one is capable of forming 
 a judgment about, do the parents at home know that at 
 that age certain sorts of food, certain seasonings, are bane- 
 ful to some natures ? That for some a special diet is neces- 
 sary ? What sort of diet that should be ? Is it known in 
 schools that a special course of gymnastics may be of great 
 assistance ? Children are not all alike in respect to the 
 amount of watchfulness and management which they require ; 
 some few require no special attention. But that most do 
 need it, is a fact upon which I confidently appeal to the 
 experience of this meeting, whose members have all been 
 young once and have had young companions." 
 
 [He made a pause and looked round the room ; a little 
 bird could be heard twittering in the distance.] 
 
 " A further question : Is it not at that period of life that 
 those, who had not learned to do so before, now learn to 
 deceive ? To act secretly, with a bashfulness which wounds 
 the sense of honour and thus injures the character ? If one 
 thing can be admitted, another cannot — to the destruction of 
 the character. Quietly, and as a rule quite unsuspected, at 
 that age the powers of self-destruction begin to work in body 
 and character] no one will dare to contradict me." 
 
 [The terrible pauses which he made were almost worse 
 than anything he said ; here he made one again. But he 
 now passed on to something else.] 
 
 " But is there no place in the world," he asked, " where 
 the schools are arranged as these experiences demand ? " 
 
 [He answered this question by fully describing several 
 schools in America and England : some for girls alone, 
 some for girls and boys together. He also described several 
 colleges for young women alone, and some for young men 
 and women ; he did not consider that any one of them, 
 singly, offered all that he wished, but each one had some-
 
 THE LECTURE. tij 
 
 thing, many a great deal. He spoke at some length on a 
 medical college at Boston, where an unmarried woman was 
 professor of anatomy, and that, for students of both sexes ; 
 he mentioned that she further endeavoured to get her female 
 pupils appointed as teachers in the girls' schools in the city. 
 This lady professor was of opinion that every school should 
 have a doctor as a teacher, and that he, or some other 
 person, well instructed in Natural Science, should overlook 
 the whole of the children's studies on this subject; the lessons 
 must always be given so as to make a deep impression.] 
 
 " Already children can learn by the aid of microscopes 
 how plants, for example, are formed of cells, how the different 
 parts are developed from one common origin; they can 
 observe how they breatlie, see their division into cells, the 
 growth of the upper parts, the fructification ; can have their 
 imagination seized, nay, even regulated, by Nature's work 
 and harmony. The child should early obtain a holy admira- 
 tion for all that is healthy, fresh, natural, as well as compassion 
 for all that is injured or sickly, a horror of anything unna- 
 tural, though this must be blended with compassion as 
 well. 
 
 " Microscopes, analysis, and such a variety of diagrams and 
 apparatus must be used, that there can be no possibiUty of 
 a false impression being conveyed ou any of the principal 
 subjects, nor must the instruction become merely a weari- 
 some lesson or a lecture over wiiich they would go to sleep ; 
 it must be real personal work, developing the powers under 
 the teachers' guidance. 
 
 " Schools would naturally become much more expensive 
 than at present ; the providing of appliances, if that were 
 properly done, would constitute an especially serious outlay." 
 He told them what the price of a single microscope would 
 be, and each school ought to have a large number ; beside 
 which, the teachers must have larger salaries. " But the 
 war estimates are paid," he said cheerfully, *' a race, strong 
 both morally and physically, would be ample compensation." 
 
 *' To obtain more time, not only must the complete appa- 
 ratus be used, which itself immensely facilitates the course of 
 instruction, but other subjects must be taught on quite a 
 different method from that at present in use, and all lessons 
 must be done at school under the guidance of the teacher. 
 School must therefore, of course, be held both morning
 
 Il6 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 and afternoon, and a dinner of sufficient and nourishing 
 food be provided on the spot. When the child left the 
 school it should be completely free, should have nothing 
 on its mind for the next day. 
 
 " About all this and about arrangements as to instruction 
 on the new plan, he would speak at the same time and place 
 next Saturday ; he invited all the parents to attend. 
 
 " He would not conceal his belief that in no short time 
 teaching all over the world would be arranged in the way 
 he had indicated ; all at the cost of the State, of the Com- 
 munity. This was society's most important cause. 
 
 "But, uninfluenced by what might come, or what now 
 existed, his school for the development of the powers and 
 characters of women would follow the lines which he thought 
 to be right. There is no precept so strong as example. 
 
 " He asked earnestly for the parents' help. He hoped to 
 make it an honour for this town to have taken the lead in 
 this cause, but it would be an expensive enterprise. What 
 expense would not be incurred merely for the lady doctor, 
 who was coming over from America, to undertake the teaching 
 which he considered as the most important for the school ? " 
 
 [Movement, murmurings, excitement among the audience 
 for the first time during the lecture.] 
 
 "Yes, in Boston I met a Norwegian lady who went over 
 there when still very young, and who had passed her exami- 
 nation at the medical college several years ago. She is 
 called Miss Cornelia Hall; this lady is already an experienced 
 teacher in girls' schools, and has also a practice ; in coming 
 here she makes a sacrifice for her native land, but we cannot 
 entirely accept this, we cannot allow her to relinquish a 
 salary of three thousand dollars a year to receive the ordinary 
 pay of a Norwegian teacher. She would not be able to 
 practise here except under the conditions of the law with 
 respect to Quacks, a law as unworthy of a doctor, as of 
 the people who had made it. 
 
 " Beside this, although the collection of school apparatus is 
 no doubt very considerable, it can hardly be too much so. 
 The labour in teaching is lessened in exact proportion as 
 these apparatus are augmented. 
 
 " I am not ashamed to declare that my mother, who has 
 spent a fortune on this, is unable to go any further. I have, 
 perhaps, already overtaxed her resources. I therefore
 
 THE LECTURE. 117 
 
 confidently turn to all at this meeting, especially to the 
 women, and say to them : If you know by experience the. 
 value of a highly cultivated woman who has learned to 
 control herself, and rely on herself, then come to my help ! 
 Do so for your children's sake, do it for the sake of a good 
 example ! For myself, I will live and die for the cause in 
 our native town." 
 
 He spoke these last words with a suddenly rising emotion, 
 it came over him with such overwhelming force that he 
 forgot about the opening of the gymnasium. He had to 
 leave the tribune without even a bow; he disappeared 
 through the door of the little ante-room, and from thence 
 ran across the courtyard into the house. The audience 
 remained seated as though he had not finished, the end 
 came so suddenly upon them, was so startling, and his 
 agitation had such an electrical force about it, that it touched 
 them. They must have time to reflect. Some of ruder 
 nature down by the door rose meanwhile, the rest following 
 their example. And now a moment came for Fru Rendalen 
 full of the greatest surprise. 
 
 She did not see well, not far even with her spectacles, and 
 besides during the whole time she had looked at no one but 
 her son. The muscles of the right side of her neck ached 
 from sitting with her head turned in his direction ; when the 
 lecture was half over, therefore, she moved her chair and sat 
 completely turned towards him. 
 
 The subject itself was known to her clause by clause, but 
 his energetic delivery, his personal power, his boldness, were 
 entirely new to her; they did not cause her any apprehension, 
 but rather the contrary ; she was naturally courageous, and 
 she knew that if openness were necessary on any sub- 
 ject, this was the one. She knew the actual state of things 
 and the indifference displayed. She wanted them to be 
 made to listen for once i?i their lives. And he did it so 
 nobly, it seemed to her. She followed and felt all his in- 
 ward agitation ; she knew that if he did not keep a watch on 
 himself he would be overcome. 
 
 When, therefore, the three or four words to the meeting 
 suddenly fired it, she was as much upset as he. Those 
 closing words dimmed her spectacles, she was obliged to 
 dry them, and while doing so saw nothing and thought of
 
 ii8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 nothing outside herself. But she roused herself, and hastily 
 prepared to rise when the others did so ; she wished to be 
 ready to receive any who might desire to congratulate her, 
 and perhaps send a message to her son. 
 
 And after all no one came. Ah yes, the two Frokener 
 Jensens came, the two crooked little milliners — quiet, 
 cordial, and smihng as they always were ; they expressed 
 their thanks and sent so many messages to the *' School 
 Director ; " if they had been allowed they would have liked to 
 have gone in to thank him themselves. But the Frokener 
 Jensens were the only ones. Nils Hansen did not come, 
 nor Laura; not one of her old pupils, not even Emilie 
 Engel, poor dear Emilie of whom she had been thinking the 
 whole time; no one came. If any one had come up to Fru 
 Rendalen, and in the name of the meeting given her a box 
 on the ear, the worthy lady could not have been more 
 astonished. Gracious Powers ! What did it mean ? For 
 her his lecture expressed their mutual life, thought for 
 thought, what they had learned and experienced, and had 
 confirmed from each other's lives. But it was more, it was 
 her whole work with him first and last, from his birth till 
 now, when he stood there bright, cultivated, eager, full of 
 one great aim ; the lecture was the expression of this work, 
 this development in full flower, which was now about to 
 bear fruit. 
 
 How she loved him, how she admired him ; s/ie knew what 
 he had fought through and effected, in these eight-and-twenty 
 years. She knew what was woven into every thought to 
 which he now gave utterance. 
 
 She had had visions of all this, but with no clearness ; it 
 was he who had brought fkai ; she could never have ex- 
 pressed it clearly, but /le did. Was it not like a fairy tale, in 
 spite of all their work ? 
 
 The dim idea she had had at first of ousting the Kurt in- 
 heritance by her own, and that she had afterwards daringly 
 begun when she renovated the gloomy ancestral house, and 
 made it clean and bright, devoting herself to bringing " con- 
 fiding childish laughter " into it, was now complete. She 
 had begun it confused, stupid, but stout-hearted ; and now it 
 was accomplished by him, the child : was it not a fairy tale ? 
 
 How more than happy she was ! She could have knelt 
 down before the whole assemblage to thank God — yes, joy-
 
 THE LECTURE. 119 
 
 fully with a song, though she did not possess a single true 
 note. 
 
 She felt that if all these people came up to thank her she 
 would not be able to control herself, but what would that 
 matter, for he had done it all so well. And not one single per- 
 son came! Yes, by-the-by, the Frokener Jensens came, bui 
 no one else ; they were all going. But the old Dean ? Yes. 
 he sat there still pondering; a decided desire to speak to her 
 might have made him rise — yes, to say something on the part 
 of the others. It was only now, when almost every one was 
 gone, that he began to move ; he raised his eyes, looked in- 
 quiringly at her for a few moments, got up heavily, and came 
 towards her at last. 
 
 " Yes, dear Frue, it was cleverly done." 
 
 "Yes, was it not?" 
 
 " Very cleverly done indeed, but I would give a great 
 deal that it had not been done." 
 
 " But, Dean ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot talk about it ; there is too much noise here 
 and I am tired — another time ; remember me to him ; good- 
 bye, Frue." He took Karl's arm and turned to descend. 
 
 There was only one who was as moved, nay, overcome, as 
 Fru Rendalen, and that was Karl Vangen. Like her, at the 
 beginning, he had only been intent on the lecture and the 
 lecturer. In his innocence he had never grasped the 
 possibility of any one's feeling otherwise than that this was 
 the right thing, spoken by the right man ; hut later, chancing 
 to notice the audience at a moment when some question 
 was addressed to them, he began to doubt ; this doubt in- 
 creased until at last he sat there with a beating heart. But 
 - that no one should come to Fru Rendalen, no, not one, even, 
 of her former pupils ! He knew her face, he saw how she 
 was pained. And now the Dean as well ! He let go his 
 arm and seized her hand in both his, he would have liked to 
 hug her ; but there were still too many people in the room. 
 He looked at her till the tears sprang to his eyes, and so, not- 
 withstanding, he hugged and kissed her — any one might look 
 who liked. Then he gave his arm a little awkwardly to the 
 Dean, and helped him down. 
 
 This made the worthy Fru Rendalen herself again ; she 
 hurried, with a lighter step than one could have thouglit 
 possible, out of the door to the little ante-room, and from
 
 I20 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS 
 
 there across the courtyard to the house. She looked for 
 her son there, he had just taken off his coat and waistcoat 
 and was going to have a bath ; but she could not wait until 
 he had finished, she threw herself on to him, pressing him to 
 her breast, and crying as she exclaimed : " Tomas, dear 
 Tomas, my own Tomas ! " 
 
 He also had at last realised that something was amiss, 
 and now her look, her manner, confirmed it ; besides, she 
 said nothing, gave him no message, although she had re- 
 mained behind. 
 
 He felt, now that the strain was over, a gloomy anxiety, a 
 stab at his heart ; hut he did not wish to talk about it, 
 neither did she, so she left him to take his bath. 
 
 Andreas Berg remained behind in the gymnasium, and 
 after the last person had gone he locked the door and 
 walked in a dignified manner to a corner near the principal 
 entrance. The different gymnastic apparatus were piled up 
 there and covered with a large sail. He seized hold of the 
 sail, dragging it noisily down on to the floor. Upon 
 this two heads came into view, four arms, v/hich hastily 
 twined themselves together, two skirts, and four laced boots ; 
 two fiery red faces, bathed in perspiration, were pressed close 
 together ; a tangled mass of fair hair was mixed with a dark 
 one in the same condition. Berg stood there, looking severe. 
 
 " I see several times as the sail moved," he said ; " I could 
 not think whatever it could be ; at last, thinks I, as it was two 
 of the little girls, and it's two grown young women ; aren't you 
 ashamed o' yourselves ? " One of the girls began to cry, the 
 other laughed. "And the children of worthy men; the 
 sheriff's daughter," he continued to the one who was laugh- 
 ing, " a grown girl, confirmed and in the senior class, and 
 you there as well; do you think I don't know you? Nils 
 Hansen's daughter ; your mother was here, she should ha' 
 seen you under the sail, and your father as well ; there's a 
 power o' difference between you and your sister Augusta ; 
 she was always pretty behaved. Take yourselves off. I'm 
 going now to tell the mistress." 
 
 He was not out of the door before they jumped up. 
 Good heavens ! what did they look like ? their clothes, their 
 hair, their faces — especially their faces — exactly like a little 
 child who has been crying and has rubbed the tears all over 
 its face with grimy hands ; their hands liad been dirtied by
 
 THE LECTURE. 121 
 
 all the implements among which they lay, and they hnd used 
 them to brush away the perspiration which ran into their 
 eyes ; and how stiff and wretched they were ; though they 
 had had plenty of opportunity to prepare a comfortable place 
 for themselves, they had remained so very long in the same 
 position. At least an hour before the lecture began they had 
 been under the sail, never feeling secure the whole time. 
 One cried and scolded the other, who laughed ; but when 
 they both got a good view of each other and told one 
 another how they looked, they burst into peals of laughter, 
 and rushed into the little room at the other end of the build- 
 ing, where they knew that there was toilette apparatus. After 
 that they were to go across to tell the boarders all about it. 
 
 For it was not for themselves alone that they had hidden 
 under the sail for two hours ; no, they had been chosen for it 
 by the senior class ; they had all come and pulled the sail 
 over them. The girls had had some food with them, and 
 some beer to drink as well, but they had disposed of that 
 long before the lecture began. Over the way, in the boarders' 
 sitting-room, the senior class was assembled. Something 
 which only the parents were to hear about must be so very 
 extraordinary ; and those two knew all about it now. 
 
 The two girls only allowed themselves time to wipe away 
 the worst of the dirt, and to smooth their hair so far that 
 they need not be ashamed to run across the courtyard. 
 But hurry as they would, the impatience of the others stole 
 a march upon them. The whole class tore across the court- 
 yard to the gymnasium. They had waited to see Andreas 
 Berg shut up and disappear; he had taken his time over it, 
 but at last he had gone into the kitchen. The two had 
 been chosen on account of their good memories, and, in- 
 credible as it may seem, they remembered almost all the 
 lecture, at all events all the portions which were most telling, 
 the best delivered and the newest. 
 
 And if Tomas Rendalen had lectured to an ungrateful 
 audience, here was one which was responsive enough ; 
 young girls love courage ; when they have not to be in the 
 front themselves they glow with admiration. 
 
 The tall, fair, slender one with the large eyes, is the 
 sheriff's daughter — look at her; she has her mother's bird- 
 like face, but instead of its expression, hers was held high 
 as if for a bold flight. It was framed by a mass of
 
 122 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 disordered fair hair which now, when her eyes, her whole 
 face glowed, seemed to glow with them. She did not 
 remember the different heads of the lecture in their exact 
 order, the most important, the most interesting, came first ; 
 from their school-life and association with Tomas, Fru 
 Rendalen and the teachers, they were all better qualified to 
 seize his meaning than the audience in general had been. 
 But as Nora was in full flow she stopped, grew crimson, then 
 white : Fru Rendalen stood there on the steps ! 
 
 Andreas Berg had kept his word, and they had forgotten 
 him. 
 
 When Andreas had come to her, Fru Rendalen had been 
 so upset, that it was an absolute delight to her to find any- 
 thing upon which to vent her displeasure ; she marched out 
 down the great steps ; she wished to catch the girls in the 
 very act, and therefore went the whole way round the wing 
 and along the gymnasium, so as to come in behind them. 
 
 But just at the ante-room door, which the others had of 
 course forgotten to shut, she heard Nora, helped out by her 
 friend, delivering the lecture — Tomas's lecture — with Tomas's 
 tone of voice, his delivery, his fire, with really noble 
 eloquence. Yes, there was one who had listened ! The 
 stately Fru Rendalen would in pure self-forgetfulness have 
 held back just for the sake of hearing and being with them, 
 but it was not construed in that way ; Nora's terror, the 
 cry of the others, as they turned and saw this all-powerful 
 lady, was worth remembering. Fru Rendalen was school- 
 mistress enough to look for this token of respect ; she raised 
 her voice and said, " I ought to be excessively angry, and 
 that to some purpose ! I see you understand this ! But 
 anything so marvellous as Nora's memory I have never 
 heard." 
 
 " Never heard anything so marvellous " — it was well that 
 it was not school time. But when Nora heard that it 
 was not to cost her her life, and saw that Fru Rendalen 
 was really pleased, she flung herself upon her neck with all 
 the impetuosity of sixteen and burst into tears. 
 
 It pleased Fru Rendalen. " You are a wild, sweet girl," 
 she said. " Listen, child ; when you have finished here, come 
 over to me and we will have some regular fun."
 
 IV 
 THE STAFF 
 
 This, thinks the intelligent reader, will be an 
 account of a school, and I quite agree that so it 
 ought to be. But life's logic is not always ours, 
 and we are going to keep to that of life.
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 
 
 That same evening Tomas knew what Dean Green thought 
 of the lecture. Karl was the bearer of this information. 
 Tomas went out to him when he saw him in the avenue, and 
 they went for a long walk into the country to the left of " The 
 Estate." 
 
 Dean Green had assumed that when Tomas proposed to 
 explain his design for the school, it really was that design he 
 meant, and not something quite different; he had not for a 
 moment imagined the possibility of its being a scheme on a 
 large scale in which the plan for the school was merely 
 hinted at. Such a lecture, on such a subject, might be 
 given in this country, but it must be in one of the large 
 towns ; in a small one it might be possible to do so with 
 in)punity ten years hence, and at all events it should 
 be given by a man in an independent position ; but a 
 man who wished to found a school on it .... a more 
 ill-judged lecture the old gentleman could not imagine. It 
 was incumbent on Karl to tell this to Tomas, word for word, 
 for he must have no illusions as to what would follow. If 
 the school went on after this it would be exclusively owing 
 to the respect which his mother had inspired. After such a 
 challenge, it was sure to be condemned. Not by what it 
 taught — no, but if any girl who left school during even the 
 present year made a false step, the school would bear the 
 blame. The Dean had gathered from the lecture that 
 Tomas himself had feared this. Why in the world, then, had 
 he not held his tongue ? Now a single chance might 
 destroy the school. It is impossible to describe how this 
 took hold upon Tomas ; he felt that in repeating this Karl
 
 126 THE HERtTACE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 agreed with the Dean ; he felt that his mother would go 
 over to them as well, that every one would. He had been 
 guilty of egregious folly. They did not return before mid- 
 night. They could not talk to his mother that evening, 
 everything was quiet when they entered their rooms. 
 
 Tomas had his old one, next to the bath-room, but it had 
 all been done up for his horne-coraing. Karl had the one 
 next it, the corner room ; like all those in the house, it was so 
 long that the curtains which divided the bed from the rest 
 of the room were hardly noticeable. Their supper was set 
 for them, but they were cast down to such a degree that 
 they did not touch it. After Karl had gone to bed, Tomas 
 sat beside him, nor was it only on this night that he did so. 
 
 Early the next morning — it was Sunday — Fru Rendalen 
 was down at Nils Hansen's ; she wished to act according 
 to her usual ways. She came up again just at the time 
 people were going to church. Karl saw her from his 
 window, which faced the avenue, and told Tomas ; he himself 
 was going to church. Tomas went out with him to his 
 mother; she looked worried. 
 
 "So not even Nils Hansen?" 
 
 " No, Nils Hansen himself had said he did not like 
 to be called names in church." 
 
 " What had he meant by that ? " 
 
 " That he went to a public lecture to learn something, or 
 to hear something pleasant, not to be abused himself, or to 
 hear others abused." 
 
 Fru Rendalen had answered that a lecture must point 
 out people's faults. 
 
 "No, you must not invite people to hear about their 
 faults." 
 
 " But Fru Hansen ? " 
 
 Laura did not think his lecture wise. " Children must 
 not know everything." 
 
 On the contrary, the shoemaker had objected that his 
 peasant experience taught him quite the opposite ; in the 
 country, children knew everything from the time they were 
 quite little, and although there was much immorality in the 
 country, it was not for that reason, but because the whole 
 subject was neglected there. He himself had been brought 
 up in a thickly populated district, where both sexes went to 
 the same school and played the same games until they
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 127 
 
 were grown up ; they knew everything, but he looked back 
 to that time with confidence. 
 
 Nils Hansen had said this so often before that Tomas 
 was puzzled why his mother should repeat it now. She did 
 it merely to gain time. 
 
 The fact was that Fru Emilie Engel was ill ; she had been 
 carried straight to bed from the carriage, the doctor had 
 been there yesterday, again during the night, and had just 
 now come away : Fru Rendalen had met him ; she began 
 to cry. 
 
 If Emilie succumbed to this it would be her fault, she 
 might have understood that Emilie could not bear that 
 men's infidelity should be spoken about while her husband 
 was beside her ; so, weak and delicate as Emilie was, Fru 
 Rendalen ought, at any cost, to have prevented Tomas from 
 doing such a thing. 
 
 Instead, she had rejoiced over what he had done. That 
 was because both she and others always agreed with Tomas 
 when they were in his company, whether they would or no. 
 For of course he had gone too far. The doctor had said so 
 too. What had he said? "He said that it was those 
 cursed nerves — Kurt excess — in another form." She began 
 to cry again. 
 
 And as though Tomas wished on the spot to show her 
 that the doctor and she were right, he flew into a violent 
 passion. " It was really dreadful to have come home to 
 such a miserable position, to be obliged to work among 
 indifferent and poor-spirited people, who fled right and left 
 as soon as ever a reform was brought forward." 
 
 *' It was not the reform itself but the way " 
 
 The way ? A reform cannot be effected by stealth, it 
 must show itself for what it is. Yesterday evening, when he 
 was tired, he had felt this icy coldness as well, it made him 
 shiver ; but now it really was all too mad ; if every one 
 deserted, he would hold his ground ; he certainly had thought 
 that his mother would have been better than that ; for in 
 reality it was mostly her experiences which he had brought 
 forward yesterday. 
 
 This passed, out in the garden, on Sunday morning. On 
 Thursdayat midday the local newspaper — the Spectator — was 
 delivered to its subscribers. Under a large note of interroga- 
 tion by way of heading a correspondent wished to know if
 
 128 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 it really were true that in a large school in the town the 
 greater number of the pupils had fallen into immorality? 
 Although it was the principal himself who had said this to 
 several hundred people, one must still permit oneself to 
 doubt it. That he had not been misunderstood would 
 be proved by the following quotation : " This (namely, 
 immorality) ^cms the rule, he said ; the contrary zvas the 
 exception" 
 
 This contribution was not signed. It fanned the 
 smouldering feeling to an open flame.. No one spoke of 
 anything else. There was an abject terror among all the 
 school-girls the next day ; they came up to morning prayers, 
 pupils and teachers as well, as though they were about to 
 be punished, and Karl Vangen was so much agitated that 
 he could scarcely pray. The day's work was dull and 
 spiritless. Rendalen did not show himself. 
 
 He responded in his own name in the next number 
 (Thursday's). He said that if this misunderstanding were 
 intentional, it was paltry; if unintentional, explanation ought 
 at least to have been sought privately. Nothing had been 
 said that in the least resembled this ; all that was said was 
 that the transition from childhood to maturity was so 
 difficult a time for most that it became dangerous, and it 
 therefore needed watchfulness. 
 
 What the principal of the school had noticed was that the 
 characters of children of that age altered, that they lost their 
 industry, their sense of order ; " that this was the rule, the 
 contrary the exception." Could any one discover in this any 
 such frightful suggestions as had been made ? 
 
 The answer was good, but it did not avail, the excitement 
 was so great that no words could set things straight. " Why 
 was this transition dangerous ? " they wished to know, if not 
 for the reason he now tried to evade? 
 
 Just below Rendalen's answer appeared in the same 
 number another question, signed " A Mother :" " Why was 
 it of such great importance that little children should learn 
 how the race is propagated?" This inquiry gave expression 
 to a second side of the scandal which filled the town. Under 
 this question was still another addressed to Herr Real- 
 Kandidat, School Director Rendalen ; it begged " most 
 respectfully " to ask, if he would not allow the lecture, which 
 he had delivered last Saturday at the new gymnasium of the
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 129 
 
 girls' school to be printed. Those who had heard it might 
 thus enjoy it again, and those who had not been so fortunate 
 ought not to lose the opportunity of obtaining some infor- 
 mation on so remarkable a subject: signed "A friend or 
 sound and safe enlightenment." 
 
 In the next number (Saturday's) an answer from Rendalen : 
 " Children already learned natural history, and therefore of 
 course the terms for propagation of the species. Why they 
 must learn this, any head-master or principal of a school 
 could answer as well as he ; this formed no part of the new 
 side of his proposal, and only so far affected small schools 
 as regarded the scope and method of teaching the subject." 
 To the other question he replied, that a lecture to which 
 only parents had had admission was evidently not fitted for 
 general circulation. 
 
 Few found this answer satisfactory ; he simply evaded the 
 question ; at least three hundred people had heard the 
 lecture, so that it might quite properly be discussed in the 
 press. 
 
 Three more contributions in the same number. The first 
 expressed pleasure in the promptness of the reply ; would 
 Herr Rendalen now further explain how the sinful inclinations 
 of young people could be checked by microscopes ? This 
 witticism was at once recognised as Dosen's. The second 
 was signed '■'■ Aritlwieticus',^ and reckoned up what it would 
 cost the country if, in the future, every school were to have 
 a doctor as a teacher; he calculated that a sum of one 
 million kroner a year would be necessary for this item alone ; 
 if every school were to have a chaplain as well, this would 
 require an equal sum ; a rough estimate of the cost of the 
 apparatus, necessitated by Rendalen's plan, would, reckoned 
 as income, be hardly less than one hundred thousand kroner 
 a year. Therefore the school budget of the country would 
 be burdened with an addition of about two million one 
 hundred thousand kroner a year. He asked if this were 
 reasonable ? 
 
 After this came a communication addressed to Herr 
 Tomas Kurt, otherwise Rendalen. A child of the town, it 
 said, had fouled its own nest. If this town were worse than 
 others, which the writer begged leave to doubt, then the 
 ancestors of the lecturer were certainly most to blame for 
 it, and that both in ancient and modern times, he was 
 
 I
 
 130 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 certainly therefore the last who ought- to talk ? This con- 
 tributor signed himself " Suiun cuique.'" 
 
 On the same day that these appeared Rendalen gave his 
 second lecture, and at this, which was announced as being 
 exclusively a technical one, twenty people, including the 
 teachers, were present ; beside these, ten came in during 
 the course of the lecture. 
 
 One could see that those eight days had pressed hardly 
 upon Tomas, Fru Rendalen, and Karl Tomas's opening to- 
 day was another man's — tame, flat, hesitating; his nervousness 
 had increased twenty per cent, his handkerchief was out of 
 his pocket and in again, the water-bottle was emptied, his 
 hair pushed up; he fidgeted with his hands, and his feet 
 moved about as though he were blowing the bellows of an 
 organ. But when he began to speak of the school plan, 
 exhibiting and explaining appliances and apparatus, he 
 caught fire and was soon his old self again, his superior 
 power of making things plain and of awakening interest in 
 them was recovered. A microscope with a leaf under it 
 was passed round while he spoke ; he showed them a 
 succession of new things, either entire collections, or large 
 coloured pictures, or highly finished models which could be 
 taken to pieces and studied in the most minute details ; for 
 example, a man's chest, stomach, neck, head, some of the 
 finer parts being on an enlarged scale. Such a collection of 
 apparatus, he said, could never have been made in their own 
 country. " We are indebted to the interest of the world at 
 large that we, remote and small as we are, are able to see 
 such a one; and, moreover, that I should have been able 
 to procure it." Some of it, however, he said, had been 
 given to him. 
 
 The few who were present at the lecture were extremely 
 pleased; they thought the school might still do well even if 
 he had given an unfortunate lecture. 
 
 But these favourable views were carried away by too few 
 to create a counter-current. In Thursday's number a con- 
 tributor asked the man who had signed himself " Suii/ii 
 ciiiqne,^' if it meant " For every pig." If this question were 
 on behalf of Rendalen it was absolutely the worst which had 
 yet been advanced against him. The contributor began by 
 saying how audacious it was that a young man, and one, 
 moreover, who had scarcely been at home since he was grown
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 131 
 
 up, should descant upon the morals of this town with a 
 boastful superiority. Not only that, but he had spoken as 
 though he knew every skipper in the country, as though he 
 had followed them round the world and instituted inquiries 
 about them ; and in order to fill up the measure of shame- 
 lessness, he had talked as though he knew the whole trading 
 community of the world. A man with such great effrontery, 
 and so inconsiderate a mode of expression, ought not to be 
 a teacher in an educational institution, least of all its prin- 
 cipal. Under these circumstances, proposals ought at once 
 to be made for the formation of another school. It was 
 already known that a well-meant application to the former 
 principal to continue her work as before, without Herr 
 Rendalen's help, had been fruitless. Well then, the writer 
 would call upon men of position to come to the front with 
 a view to the formation of a new school. Such a call would 
 receive universal response. Every one in the town wondered 
 who this contributor could be ; that very evening the sugges- 
 tion was canvassed in the club, but neither then'did he luake 
 himself known. All agreed to wait for Consul Engel's sake ; 
 they did not in the least doubt that he would be on their 
 side ; every one knew only too well what had been the result 
 of Rendalen's lecture in Engel's home, but it would not do to 
 talk about plans to him now. Fru Engel was dangerously ill. 
 
 Although the deliberations lasted only a few minutes, 
 every one agreed to this at once. When it was over it 
 was not more than nine o'clock, so Dr. Holmsen, who 
 had been a passive listener, went straight from the club, 
 which was on the market-place, up the avenue to " The 
 Estate," and repeated all to Tomas Rendalen ; " the sooner 
 he learns it the better," Holmsen considered. 
 
 " Leave this wretched hole to the devil," was his advice. 
 Tomas took the doctor in with him to his mother and 
 repeated to her what he had been told, adding at once that 
 he should certainly go away. 
 
 Karl came home at that moment; it was all told to him 
 and he agreed that it was useless to go on after what he had 
 heard that day in the town. But Fru Rendalen would not 
 on any account consent that they should give way ; better 
 embody the whole school plan and its grounds in a book, 
 and appeal from the town to the country at large. There 
 must surely be enough sensible parents in the whole of
 
 132 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Norway to enable them to have a full school. It had not, 
 she said, been her plan but Tomas's, and he must therefore 
 carry it through. 
 
 She understood Tomas : it was only necessary to over- 
 come the first painful impression and he would be himself 
 again. They did not separate that night until twelve o'clock, 
 and then they were all agreed in the determination to con- 
 tinue the plan. 
 
 It was the school work which gave Tomas strength for 
 this ; he was an unequalled schoolmaster and found his 
 greatest happiness in it, and now he brought all his powers 
 to the task. He showed the pupils the most amusing 
 experiments that he knew, and described, explained, and lec- 
 tured. He still assembled the senior class, as he had done 
 ever since his return, one evening a week in Fru Rendalen's 
 room, for a special meeting. He had given them some idea 
 of the great question of the position of women, as it affected 
 the minds of the whole civilised world ; he read to them, he 
 played to them ; at this time, of course, these meetings had 
 a special importance for him. 
 
 He never, by a single word, touched on the present strife, 
 but in his choice of subjects for reading and conversation, 
 nay, even of music, he involuntarily gave them an impression 
 of his faith in a great cause, of his sufferings when his 
 susceptible mind had received a blow. 
 
 The senior class believed unswervingly in him, and this had 
 a great influence on the others : very soon he took over the 
 instruction in singing for the whole school ; they practised 
 elaborate choruses and amusing plays ; and this was con- 
 ducive to good-fellowship as well. 
 
 But notwithstanding all this, signs of rebellion showed 
 themselves, and that they every time disappeared again, was 
 mostly due to Karl Vangen's morning religious instruction 
 to the pupils and teachers. Karl was not a highly gifted 
 genius, but he had one quality which outweighed genius, he 
 had never said what was untrue ; he always said a thing 
 exactly as he felt it, nothing could alter him in this respect ; 
 and as his life had been, at one time, deeply imbued with 
 sorrow, which had at a later time, been turned to happiness, 
 the impression made by both remained with him, even in 
 the tones of his voice ; this was taking. He prayed so 
 earnestly to God for peace in the school ; the strife outside
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 133 
 
 must never be allowed to pass the steps. " We here, all of 
 us, wish nothhig but good to each other, do we ? " This 
 was sufficient to bring some of them to tears. On one 
 occasion he added, that he was empowered to say that any 
 who had the least doubt about the school could leave at any 
 time, the usual notice of withdrawal would not be enforced. 
 They must tell this to their parents — tell them this, whether 
 they were happy or not, exactly as it ivas. 
 
 Had the foes of the school discovered what power Karl 
 Vangen possessed up there? For the assault was now 
 directed against him. The Spectator contained a para- 
 graph, headed " To private chaplain Karl Vangen." Every 
 one had a regard for his character as well as for his good 
 intentions, therefore they were surprised in the highest 
 degree that he could countenance views such as had been 
 expressed. " Only one with too Httle intelligence or too 
 much credulity {sic), could fail to see that this really meant 
 the putting of religion on one side and the substituting of 
 natural science for it." 
 
 This elicited a perfect avalanche of letters ; we will give 
 one of them : " The writer cannot forbear to express his 
 sorrow for what he has lived to see — namely, that when an 
 audacious voice asked from the tribune of the gymnasium 
 at the girls' school if it were not true that only excessively 
 few are permanently affected by a religious life,/o//r of the 
 clergy had kept their seats. Did they in their hearts assent to 
 such a scoffing speech ? 
 
 " Was not the message of Jesus given to all men ? (see 
 Mathew xxviii. 19, Mark xvi. 15, Luke xxiv. 47, Acts x. 42, 
 43, Colossians i. 23.) To that degree it was given to all 
 that first and foremost it was understood of the simple, 
 (see Matthew xi. 25, Luke x. 21, i Corinthians, i. 19-27 ; 
 Romans i. 21, 22.) 
 
 " If, then, absolutely every one cannot be permanently 
 affected by the Divine truth, what fearful deductions might 
 not be drawn from this ! Nay, could the Bible itself be a 
 Divine truth ? 
 
 " The man who asked this so presumptuously lives among 
 teachers of the Church, nay, is one of their friends. There- 
 fore I may venture to say that the Voice of Unbelief is gone 
 forth into our midst (see i John ii. 19, Acts xv. 24 and 
 XX. 30, Galatians ii. 4). Where were the four watchmen of
 
 134 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Zion ? I was on the point of rising, but I waited for them. 
 I ask again and with sorrow, where were they ? Surely 
 they did not sleep 'i (see Matthew xxiv. 42, 43 and xxv. 5, 
 Mark xiii. 33, Luke xxi. ■T^b^ i Corinthian sxv. 33, 34, 
 
 Thessalonians v. 6, Ephesians v. 14). 
 
 " If I were to put my name to this it would give no food 
 for reflection ; therefore I put the following holy words and 
 numbers, 80th Psalm of David, 7th verse." 
 
 The whole town looked up the 80th Psalm and read : 
 "Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbours, and our 
 enemies laugh among themselves." 
 
 This quotation gave expression to the anger which all felt, 
 that through their quarrels, the town had become the laugh- 
 ing-stock of their neighbours. 
 
 For the rival papers of the neighbouring towns were hold- 
 ing festival over this scandal. Sarcastic reports and revela- 
 tions hailed down ; the town had never been famous for its 
 godliness, and as little for its moraUty and general virtue, 
 but rather for wealth, extravagance, and enterprise. The 
 most unblushing expressions of adnrVaiion for the sudden 
 change, the astonishing moral gravity, absolutely and alto- 
 gether miraculous, which had come to " The little Babylon," 
 were constantly to be read in the newspapers of the 
 *' paltry towns." 
 
 A few days later one of these yelpers began Sifeiiilleton, 
 obviously written in the town itself. It was entitled " Kurt's 
 Cove," and the cronigice scandakuse of the tov/n was most 
 wittily set forth in it, naturally with feigned names, but 
 every one recognised the stories ; the feiiUleton closed with 
 the remark that one quite understood that it remained a 
 sacred duty for Kurt's Cove to hinder a reform of morals in 
 the town. As this was the first thing which had appeared 
 on the side of Rendalen's new school, every one believed (a 
 proof of how prejudiced they had become) that if Rendalen 
 had not himself written the story, he had at least helped 
 to do so. 
 
 A notice was now issued, printed in large letters, con- 
 vening a meeting of the Sailors' Association, "in con- 
 sequence of the insults against our noble seafaring commu- 
 nity, which have been flung at us from a certain quarter." 
 
 The meeting had this remarkable feature, that hardly three 
 sailors were present. It was presided over by the owner of
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 135 
 
 a wharf, who had never been to sea at all ; the principal 
 speaker was the harbour master, who had of course at one 
 time commanded a vessel, but a very long time ago. He 
 thundered forth tremendously. It was he who had com- 
 posed the written protest which expressed " the scorn " of 
 the sailors for all such talk. 
 
 A copy of the protest had been sent on the spot to 
 Tomas Rendalen. 
 
 Thus far everything had been all that could be wished, 
 but when the punch was brought out and they had taken off 
 the first edge, they became a little too warm. It then 
 pleased the only captain present, Kasper Johannesen, to de- 
 clare that "Tomas Rendalen was — devil take me — right 
 enough." What a wild tumult ensued ! The harbour 
 master at last moved that this new slanderer should be 
 turned out. Kasper Johannesen would never let himself be 
 turned out by a fellow who " /lad taken percentage /limself." 
 He knew plenty of people who had dealt with him ! The 
 wharfinger would have put the matter aside in a dignified 
 manner, but Kasper Johannesen merely told him to " go to 
 H — 1." Did they not all know that he had become rich 
 over unseaworthy vessels, had not Lloyd's agent himself 
 said so ? Yes, that was a pretty sort of way of showing 
 kindness to sailors, &c. &c. It ended in a fight out in 
 the street. Ended? It did not end all that summer and 
 autumn ! 
 
 There was no more talk of the school in the town for 
 weeks, no one spoke about anything but their business, 
 and which of the captains were honest and which " per- 
 centage thieves ; " still about business, and which of the 
 captains were out-and-out thieves, and which only thieves in 
 a small way. And again, who among the captains were 
 absolutely honest. Business again, and about captain N. N., 
 who, every one knew, could retire and set up a business for 
 himself. When the ships came in at the end of autumn, 
 the captains themselves took part in it. Some were dis- 
 missed, and then informed against others who were not. 
 The mates and seamen did not wish to come forward as 
 witnesses, but were forced to do so. The most violent 
 hatreds were founded or were fought out on the spot ; the 
 •' skippers' war " saved the school. 
 
 The town was not large enough to have two burning
 
 136 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 questions going at once, and naturally that which concerned 
 gain was far the most important. 
 
 But if the " skippers' war" temporarily saved the school, 
 it did not save Rendalen himself; he might expect that the 
 first opportunity would be taken for a reckoning. He never 
 willingly went into the town — at all events, not in the 
 evening. 
 
 _ He received a reminder of the state of things when, 
 shortly after "the war" had broken out, he had to go down 
 quite early one Sunday morning, with a carriage, to the 
 custom-house to meet Miss Hall, who was to arrive by the 
 English boat. That day the choral society and the 
 athletic club were starting on an expedition, a couple of 
 hundred young men therefore had assembled there, not- 
 withstanding the earliness of the hour. Rendalen did not 
 feel himself safe among them ; he was hardly allowed to pass 
 in peace, angry looks and threatening hints followed him, 
 and, as he got into the boat, the rope was cast off in such a 
 way that it knocked off his hat and splashed him — of course 
 entirely by accident. 
 
 They understood what he was come for, it must be to 
 meet the new guardian of the town's virtue, the American 
 lady-doctor. The heavy bows of the English steamer 
 could be seen standing in — they postponed their own depar- 
 ture until they had seen the young lady. Rendalen had 
 got her and her luggage into the boat ; she was the only 
 passenger. They must have a look at something so ex- 
 traordinary. 
 
 After all, she looked quite a child ! a little, slight, active 
 creature, who declined all help as she came up the steps ; 
 she was down again in a moment, because the people in the 
 boat turned one of her boxes upside down and she could 
 not explain herself in Norse. She was quickly up again 
 with it, then off to the carriage, into it in a trice — one, two, 
 three — active and smiling ; but only when she was seated 
 did she look round with surprise at the gloomy suspicious 
 crowd ; a long inquiring look from two large eyes was cast 
 upon them. In the meantime Rendalen gave orders about 
 the luggage, and put something to rights with the reins, 
 before he got up. Her woman's eyes made use of the time. 
 They possessed a clear, cool power of observation; they did 
 not wander over the whole crowd, but picked out several
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 137 
 
 faces here and there from among the young people, quickly, 
 certainly. 
 
 Those who received a look felt it at the bottom of their 
 hearts, and there was not one of these two hundred young 
 men on the quay who had any doubt but that those eyes 
 could discover several things. 
 
 A little later in the course of the " skippers' war " — that is 
 to say, just at the end of the holidays — the news spread 
 round the town that the lovable Emilie Engel, the friend of 
 the poor, the friend of every one, had been given up by the 
 doctors. 
 
 Fru Rendalen, in addition to everything else, had had 
 increasing prickings of conscience as regarded Fru Engel, 
 and now the news came to her as a stunning blow. 
 
 Of all her pupils since Augusta Hansen, no one had been 
 like Emilie Engel, so pretty, so clever, and so good ; she had 
 attached herself to Fru Rendalen as to a mother, and had 
 given her, and her alone, her confidence when she became 
 unhappy because she loved the man who deceived her. 
 
 All the world had known for a long time, what she had 
 only learned in the last year or two. It was Emilie's 
 sufterings which, more than anything else, had made Fru 
 Rendalen glad that Tomas " took it all up," as she expressed 
 it. And now ? Neither she nor her son doubled for a moment 
 that every one would be convinced that Tomas Rendalen 
 had killed her by his roughness. 
 
 The bitterness would all be aroused again with increased 
 strength. 
 
 Fru Rendalen had not obtained leave from the doctor to see 
 Emilie ; Dr. Holmsen had said in his rough way that she was 
 too nearly related to the lecture ; this remark had got about. 
 
 Emilie Engel died early one morning, and in the after- 
 noon her spiritual counsellor, old Green, drove up to "The 
 Estate." He brought a last greeting from her, and gave Fru 
 Rendalen her savings-bank book; in it she had written, in 
 large trembling characters, " For the school — yours, E." 
 
 The Dean informed Fru Rendalen that this had been 
 done with the consent of her husband. The amount was 
 five thousand kroner. 
 
 Fru Rendalen's agitation and happiness, her grief and 
 thankfulness were so great, that she was obliged to leave tlie
 
 138 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 room and did not show herself again. Tomas came home 
 just at the moment, and met the Dean as he was being 
 helped by a servant down the great steps. The old man 
 asked him to go to his mother, he knew she wanted to 
 speak to him. Tomas was startled, but he controlled him- 
 self and helped the Dean into the carriage. 
 
 Fru Rendalen was in her bedroom, walking up and 
 down, crying bitterly ; when she saw Tomas she threw her- 
 self upon his neck, while he implored her for God's sake to 
 tell him what was the matter. 
 
 She could only look towards the book ; he saw it and took 
 it up. He felt at once that this was salvation. What he 
 had suffered now became evident ; he, too, burst into tears. 
 
 The next morning a message was sent round to the 
 parents of the pupils by Fru Rendalen, asking if they 
 might be allowed, in the name of the school, to pay 
 a tribute to Fru Engel's memory ; if so, they must all 
 assemble, dressed in white, at the churchyard gate on the 
 day of the funeral and walk before the coffin, the younger 
 ones strewing flowers, the others singing a hymn, to be 
 loUowed by a chorus at the side of the grave. 
 
 All who obtained leave were to assemble at the school 
 that day at twelve o'clock. 
 
 As only a few days intervened before the opening of 
 the school, nearly all the pupils were in the town ; the rest 
 returned by twos and threes, not one was absent. 
 
 It really was incredible what Tomas Rendalen accom- 
 plished in seven or eight days ; he felt that a battle was to 
 be delivered. 
 
 The next number of the Spectator announced the decease, 
 with a few words on Fru Engel's many good works, and the 
 addition : "We understand that she has left a sum of money 
 to an institution in the town." What this announcement 
 lacked in plainness, was remedied in the paper. That day 
 there was not a single attack on the school. 
 
 Under these circumstances Fru Engel's funeral became 
 an exceptional event. This was shown both by the pre- 
 parations which were made and the reports which circu 
 lated. 
 
 The schools asked for, and obtained a holiday ; it was de- 
 cided to close all the shops, to strew the streets along 
 which the procession was to pass with fir branches, and to
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 139 
 
 have minute guns fired from a flag-ship. It was reported 
 that the band from the nearest garrison town had been 
 engaged and had obtained leave to be present. The prin- 
 cipal merchants of this, and the neighbouring towns, were to 
 take the coffin from the hearse at the churchyard gate and 
 carry it to the grave. 
 
 Several steamers brought people, from both up and down 
 the coast, who wished to see and hear. 
 
 When the church-bells began to toll on the day of the 
 funeral, the streets were quite full, and there was soon no 
 space to be had either inside or outside the churchyard ; 
 if the crush had not been foreseen, and a number of 
 men stationed to strengthen the police force, ladies would 
 not have dared to venture there. As it was, the school had 
 plenty of room, as well as the mothers and sisters of the 
 scholars. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the minute guns began and the 
 music was heard, still more when the procession came in sight, 
 the crush became excessive ; some screams were heard, and 
 a number of people became alarmed ; but things soon be- 
 came quiet again, excepting that the excitement increased. 
 
 The band came up to the gate, stood there and continued 
 playing before it, while the hearse drew up and the mer- 
 chants came forward and raised the coffin. The numberless 
 flowers for which no room could be found were gathered 
 up and carried after it. 
 
 In the meantime Rendalen had worked his way out from 
 the procession, and marshalled his white-robed flock within 
 the gate. The coffin was carried in, but they remained 
 quiet until the hearse had driven away and the procession 
 was formed. The music ceased, the school children began 
 to sing strongly and charmingly, and this change from brass 
 instruments to girls' voices was striking. 
 
 From this solemn moment, as the funeral train moved 
 forward, the little white-robed flower-strewers before, followed 
 by the singers v/ith the coffin next to them— from that 
 moment the character of the funeral changed. Here was a 
 festal procession, sorrow was converted into beauty, the loss 
 into a full-handed demonstration of honour. The pageant 
 of riches had paused before the gate of the dead. All 
 presented themselves as an offering. Fru EmiUe Engel 
 was buried like a princess.
 
 140 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 As the hymn ascended from the girls in front, and all the 
 little hands began to feel in their baskets for the flowers, all 
 eyes turned towards them ; all thoughts followed this white 
 line as it wound up the slope among the crowd of black- 
 robed women, for these streamed along with them. The 
 war which had lately raged was remembered at once, the 
 thought seemed to hover in the threatening atmosphere 
 above them and over the black train which followed. Fru 
 Engel's pale face rose to their memories as they heard the 
 hymn. It was poor, poor Emilie, who was being buried, 
 the hundredfold deceived Emilie, whom all of those present, 
 who were her elders, had known from childhood, and had 
 seen every Sunday in church, pale and melancholy. 
 
 Was it not as though these little white-clad girls had 
 come forward to take her from those who had come with 
 her? By her legacy she had given herself to these little 
 ones. And afterwards, when the long white train streamed 
 on to the planked floor which had been prepared, with 
 a railing on the side next the grave, it again seemed 
 as though they, and they alone, had a right in her. 
 
 Rendalen stepped up among them, with his hat in his 
 hand. The little flower-strewers had had their baskets re- 
 plenished, and arranged themselves before him. The coffin 
 was lowered, there was silence ; Rendalen gave the sign, 
 subdued music began and the chorus joined in. He con- 
 ducted with a slight movement of his hand, otherwise he 
 was perfectly still, filled with emotion and overcome by 
 the moment. All these voices gave answer for him, they 
 sang thanks for the new school over the grave. The women 
 were much affected. Karl Vangen's anxious eye sought 
 Fru Rendalen, he saw how much she was shaken, and 
 worked his way towards her. But as soon as she had taken 
 his arm she wished to cross to the side where they were 
 singing; she must see the grave. He led her forward. 
 But after she had come, there was a sense that something was 
 there which belonged to that other phase ; it was only dimly 
 perceived perhaps, but it became quite clear when, the sing- 
 ing being ended, old Green was helped up beside the girls 
 and began to speak. He repeated words which Emilie had 
 spoken on different occasions ; collectively they formed a 
 picture. Everything was expressed in these words, and yet 
 nothing was actually told, every one understood without 
 offence being given.
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 141 
 
 The one who was the most moved was Engel, for her 
 deep devotion to him was expressed in one or two of these 
 utterances, and against his will these words made him burst 
 into violent sobbing which he could not restrain. 
 
 Green now ceased speaking, he concluded with some 
 words of hers, which had followed her gift to the school. 
 " There are two parties in this question .... She had 
 chosen hers," he added. 
 
 The music began again, and with it the chorus ; the old 
 man was helped down while the little ones leant over the 
 railing to strew their last flowers. At the same moment it 
 thundered out in the west ; far out the sea looked black ; a 
 rain-storm was coming, a heavy one. 
 
 Towards the town one saw how the flags drooped against 
 the dark sky, all foretold violent rain ; again a crash of 
 thunder, much louder and nearer ; the mourners began to 
 move about, some pressed forward to look into the grave or 
 to speak to the family. A short time afterwards, groups of 
 white-clad girls passed down the road in strong relief 
 against the heavy sky and the dark green trees ; some 
 of them began to run about, and others followed their ex- 
 ample; some, to Fru Rendalen's horror, began to laugh 
 and shout. 
 
 They were at dinner at " The Estate," when Fru Renda- 
 len received two small anonymous contributions, with the 
 motto, " There are two parties." During the afternoon they 
 received several more, all anonymous, but none of them 
 considerable. Still, it showed that the school had friends as 
 well as enemies. 
 
 They had not time to dwell long on this, for that evening 
 they were to have a little memorial feast at the school, to 
 which, Fru Engel's friends were invited^ and both the senior 
 classes. Fru Rendalen was to tell them about her com- 
 panionship with the departed ; old Green had promised to 
 come as well, and perhaps narrate something. There 
 would be music, the chorus would be repeated, and so 
 forth. 
 
 The whole day had been spent in preparing the place 
 where the feast was to be held, but even so, they were hardly 
 ready. Once more they were interrupted by a letter, this 
 time from Dr. Holmsen ; his servant brought it up. The 
 doctor's name was not put to it, but his handwriting was as
 
 142 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 well known as his servant. And who besides would have 
 signed it, 
 
 "An Old Pig." 
 The letter ran : 
 
 "Dear Rendalen, — 
 
 " ' There are two parties.' That is certainly most 
 true, although I consider that one of them has acted 
 devilish stupidly, and I do not in the least feel able to join 
 myself to it. Enclosed is a cheque for three microscopes, as 
 you have taken it into your preposterous Kurt skull that it 
 can be done by microscopes. I don't believe a doit in it. 
 The power of knowledge will do no more here than the 
 power of religion ; it will all remain just where it was. But 
 something white, something of a song, passed through the 
 air to-day; that might do something perhaps. Here is the 
 money, any way." 
 
 The senior class was already gathering in the boarders' 
 sitting-room. The young ladies were to be in mourning as 
 far as taste and opportunity would allow, and this was some- 
 thing so new and interesting that they were sure to come 
 before their time. 
 
 The feast was to be held in the laboratory — that is to say, 
 the Knights' Hall ; it had of course cost some trouble to pre- 
 pare it for a funeral feast, but as the first ladies arrived it 
 was finished — only Emilie's portrait was still to come. 
 
 The carriage with the two Danish horses and the man in 
 grey livery on the box, came slowly up the avenue. Fru 
 Rendalen and Tomas met it at the foot of the steps. 
 Tomas opened the door for a young lady in deep mourning, 
 who flung herself on to Fru Rendalen's neck ; she was Fru 
 Engel's only daughter, she was called Emilie also. She was 
 to remain at school a year longer. 
 
 She was an unusually pretty girl, set off as her slender 
 figure and delicate complexion now were by her mourning. 
 Over her hair, the hereditary Engel hair, neither red nor 
 yellow, she had a black veil, and nothing else. She 
 mounted the steps on Fru Rendalen's arm, crying ; Tomas 
 followed with the portrait, which was covered with a cloth, 
 for it was raining. 
 
 All rose as they came in, the girl herself wept still more 
 piteously and sought a corner, where she hid her face behind 
 her veil and pocket-handkerchief. The portrait was put up
 
 A GREAT LECTURE AND A LITTLE TOWN. 143 
 
 on to the chimney-piece of the laboratory, which was covered 
 with black ; Norwegian flags were arranged on each side of 
 it, and garlands were now hung round it. 
 
 The ceremony began with a duet, a funeral march, played 
 by Tomas Rendalen, and the girl who had sung a short 
 contralto solo up at the churchyard that day ; Augusta 
 Hansen's sister, who had hidden under the sail on the day 
 of the lecture. 
 
 After this followed some speeches, then the chorus ; all 
 went off excellently ; there was much feehng, at times 
 agitation. At the close there was a hymn as an introduc- 
 tion to a few words from Karl Vangen. He had lately read 
 that life is not a closed road, but an open one 3 he spoke 
 on this. 
 
 In the meantime, simple refreshments, such as were 
 usually served at the school parties, with the addition of 
 dessert and wine, had been spread in Fru Rendalen's sitting- 
 room ; for Tomas wished, in conclusion, to take the oppor- 
 tunity of proposing the healths of the senior classes and to 
 thank them, and with them all those who had helped that 
 day to celebrate a beautiful memory. All who had sung to- 
 day at the churchyard, with the town below them, and a 
 large number of its inhabitants before them, must have 
 felt something which resembled a covenant with the school. 
 
 The pure memory of the dead had smiled upon it. 
 ''That covenant shall be kept," he concluded. "Shall it 
 not?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," came from the whole group ; they all pressed 
 towards him with their glasses, the young eyes sparkled ; 
 but the first was Emilie's daughter, the others made way 
 for her ; she coloured with agitation and gratitude as she 
 touched his glass with hers. 
 
 By ten o'clock they were alone. Tomas said to his mother 
 as he was going to his room, " It was not so mad after all 
 to give that lecture in the gymnasium — what do you say?" 
 
 " Ah, do you know, Tomas, I really begin to think too 
 that — No, no. It 7vas mad. Pray do not let me be be- 
 fooled again." 
 
 A maid-servant came in with a note which had been for- 
 gotten ; it had arrived during the evening. 
 
 " Do you see? do you see?" he laughed, and opened it. 
 It ran :
 
 144 T^HE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 " Yes, you think you have conquered, you slanderer. I 
 saw your conceit to-day, as you stood there among all the 
 little girls whom you had befooled into doing you a good 
 turn. Selfishness stood out from your freckled, grey-eyed 
 face, as well as from your Judaj hair. Fie for shame ! but 
 you will be struck when you least expect it, you beast." 
 FerUas. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE STAFF. 
 
 Fair Milla and brown Tora, 
 Broad Tinka and slender Nora. 
 
 It was disputed where this remarkable verse with its rhythm 
 and rhyme was heard for the first time, whether in the senior 
 Latin or senior Commercial. The dispute can never be 
 settled now, but when these girls showed themselves it was 
 often shouted, sung, and bawled after them — at first in turns 
 with another by Dosen, which ran, " JVora, Tora, ora pro 
 nobis ; " but as it was incomplete, the names of Tinka and 
 Milla not being mentioned, it was dropped in favour of the 
 former. This one was also given up ; it was perfectly well 
 known who was father to the latest name for them ; Rendalen 
 called them on a certain occasion "The Staff," and after him 
 the whole school, after it the boys' school, and at last all 
 who were inclined to pay them a compliment. We know 
 three of the Staff already — that is to say, we know them from 
 the others, not more than that. " Fair Milla " is no other 
 than Emihe Engel; she looked like a picture in enamel in 
 her mourning. Broad Tinka is Katinka Hansen, Augusta's 
 sister, the contralto; and slender Nora is the sheriff's 
 daughter, the one who hid under the sail, the one with big 
 eyes and wavy hair. 
 
 Brown Tora, on the other hand, we do not know, and she 
 shall remain a little longer shrouded in mystery. 
 
 A year ago a new sheriff was appointed to that part of 
 the country, a secretary in a government office, called Jens 
 Tue, otherwise known as the ladies' man.* Instead of 
 
 * Pigernes Jens.
 
 THE STAFF. I45 
 
 becoming resident he went abroad with his wife, whose chest 
 was rather deUcate. 
 
 This lady had, by jealousy and insincerity, missed her true 
 foothold in life, and both in her thoughts and actions she 
 flitted like a bird from one interest to another; she wished 
 to appear so immensely delighted, so taken up with intel- 
 lectual questions and music — until one day her strength 
 proved insufficient ; she collapsed. 
 
 Her husband carried her oif with him, and as during their 
 tour he was all that was pleasant and amiable, her bird-like 
 nature required nothing more. She came home again, well 
 and happy. 
 
 It would have seemed more natural for Nora to remain at 
 Christiania with her friends and relations. It was said certainly 
 that Fru Rendalen's school was so very superior, but that 
 could hardly be the whole explanation ; all were curious 
 about the Sheriff's daughter when she appeared. She was a 
 fashionable young lady, tall and slender, and if not exactly 
 elegant, still stylish in dress and manner ; a little supercilious 
 still she did not give off'ence — she was too pliable for that 
 too quick as well, entirely taken up with the fancy of the 
 moment She gave an impetus to all she did, and people 
 forgive a great deal for that. 
 
 But no one would forgive her letter-writing, or the incred- 
 ible number of letters which she received weekly I Not the 
 teachers, for she neglected the school work ; not her com- 
 panions, for she neglected them ; nay, she had hardly looked 
 at them ! She went to sleep every night with inky fingers 
 and a heap of letters beside her bed ; either she was writing 
 letters or reading letters, or crying over them. During every 
 recreation time she ran upstairs to add a few lines, or to read 
 a letter over again, which she had just received. As she 
 was worried by the pursuit of the others, she disappeared 
 after every meal. Where was she ? There was a hunt for 
 her, and she was found up in the top attic, writing of course, 
 this time upon a large barrel ; she was blue with cold. She 
 had left at least twenty particular friends behind her at 
 Christiania ; all the twenty wrote to her, and all received 
 answers, long answers — one must never be shorter than the 
 others. Happily, she had another passion, and it often 
 chances that one thing counteracts another. She was crazy 
 about music. She sang snatches of songs with great feeling,
 
 146 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 but, partly because at her age she could not sing much at a 
 time, partly because she had not training enough to carry 
 out a delicate intrepretation,she could never properly render 
 anything as a whole. But even so, she was much admired 
 by her companions, and by none more than Tinka Hansen. 
 For Tinka was herself musical, but in another and more 
 unpretending fashion. Like her sister Augusta, she had 
 developed early, especially in her powers of conversation. 
 Katinka was even-tempered, bright, dependable j everything 
 she played, and that was a great deal, she knew by heart. 
 It was therefore she who obediently accompanied Nora's 
 songs. But her execution was not worth much ; Nora very 
 soon took her in hand, and was not satisfied until she had 
 brought her to the point she wished ; Tinka was extremely 
 grateful for all this. 
 
 One day Nora discovered Tinka's powerful contralto, and 
 from that time there were duets and duets. Their age sug- 
 gested prudence, and if Nora would not use moderation, 
 Tinka both would and could. Nora was used to command, 
 so there were quarrels ; but Tinka was so accustomed to con- 
 quer when her conscience told her that she was right, that 
 Nora was completely vanquished. This was the foundation 
 of their friendship. To have a friend who at once admired 
 and restrained her was especially safe and good for Nora. 
 But Nora acted upon Tinka like a succession of impressions 
 of art upon one who has seen nothing up to that time. As 
 Nora was absolutely confidential, it seemed to the conscien- 
 tious Tinka that this ou2;ht to be returned. 
 
 Every one knew it, but not to a living being would she 
 have admitted it, Tinka was engaged. He, the man, had 
 just gone to college; she had a letter from him once a week, 
 for many reasons she did not wish to have them oftener. 
 He was called Frederik — Frederik Tygesen ; his father was 
 the stipendiary judge Tygesen, here in the town. Nora 
 was "the first person in the world" whom she had told 
 this to. 
 
 How delighted Nora was ! Really, properly engaged, with 
 letters every week and the tacit consent of her parents. 
 How had it come about? Well, that was the odd thing 
 about it ; they neither of them knew. They had once, when 
 she was eight years old, through an open door, heard Fru 
 Rendalen and her mother talking about Augusta and Tomas
 
 THE STAFF. 
 
 147 
 
 Rendalen, about what he had said to his mother about Au- 
 gusta, and what she had said to her mother about Tomas. 
 Ever since then these children had been fond of each other, 
 just as those other two had been; but they had never spoken 
 about it — never. A sincere friendship was founded between 
 Nora and Tinka upon this confidence, and Tinka's friendship 
 brought others with it. Nora was obhged to recall some of 
 her interests from Christiania, and by degrees to form a new 
 circle of admirers. 
 
 She began to write less frequently to the friends in Chris- 
 tiania, and the letters would begin, " It is a terribly long time 
 since," or "I really am a wretch who ," or " Procrastina- 
 tion is to blame." 
 
 But there was a limit to those whom she could conquer 
 in the new senior class, and this did not please her ; in fact, 
 she principally coveted the friendship of those who withheld 
 it, but all the same she could not pass this boundary. The 
 fact was that a queen had reigned there before her — nay, was 
 there still. Her ways of gaining power were different from 
 Nora's ; whether they were less or not. depended on who it 
 was who measured them. First of all, she was the richest 
 heiress in the town ; secondly, if there were the slightest 
 sign of rain, snow, or cold wind, a servant drove up to fetch 
 her home, and then it was a question who should drive 
 home with her. 
 
 She had almost always something good with her; her 
 pocket-money was of that description that the more she 
 spent, the more she had ; the resources of her dainty little 
 purse were incredible in this respect. She got money 
 from her mother, from her father, from two unmarried 
 uncles. As well as this she was pretty, discreet, attentive ; 
 no one had ever known her to use a hasty word, or be rough, 
 even at the gymnasium ; she was always very polite and a 
 little subdued. In her eyes, to forget yourself was the worst 
 of crimes. She had lived, so to say, wrapped up in cotton 
 wool, and one felt this whenever one approached her. We 
 know her already ; she is Emilie Engel. 
 
 She was not specially gifted, but was industrious ; she 
 really worked hard when there was anything on foot. Every 
 one liked her, several paid court to her, one or two abso- 
 lutely raved about her. 
 
 Tmka Hansen belonged to none of these groups; if
 
 148 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 ever she devoted herself to any one it would be to her 
 opposite ; quiet, dutiful Milla was too like herself. 
 
 As Nora first attached herself to Tinka, and through 
 Tinka to others, Milla was offended. When Nora turned to 
 her it was too late ; there was plenty of politeness and 
 willingness to oblige, but not a word for her singing, not a 
 smile for her Christiania witticisms; never so much as a 
 glance when the whole class, during one of her lively de- 
 scriptions, hung admiringly on her words. 
 
 Nora could not endure this indifference ; she condescended 
 to pay court to her in all those ways which are only known 
 to a young girl. In vain. At last they divided into parties. 
 Nora considered Milla insignificant, egotistic, cold, prim, 
 missish ; Milla considered Nora — no, Milla did not con- 
 sider Nora anything, she let her friends talk and she 
 listened. Nora's jaunty Christiania style of manner and 
 speech were unbecoming, her caprices could not be endured 
 by any one who respected herself: her accomplishments 
 were all superficial, she was characterless ; besides, it was con- 
 sidered that some of her remarks showed a want of religion, 
 and Milla's party was religious. 
 
 Milla had been confirmed at Easter. The increasing 
 weakness of Fru Engel had given a tone of enthusiasm to her 
 religious thoughts and to the aspect of her mind ; she found 
 comfort through it, and need for it, and she endeavoured to 
 lead her daughter in the same direction. 
 
 At the time of her confirmation Milla found a confidant 
 in the niece of the Frokener Jensens, little Anna Rogne, 
 who was extremely religious ; she was two years her elder, 
 but she was small and delicate; indeed, on more than one 
 occasion her life had been despaired of. Anna had more 
 religious knowledge than most grown people, and she en- 
 raptured Karl Vangen at the confirmation classes. Milla, 
 whom she had imbued with some of her enthusiasm, had no 
 objection to share in it to a slight degree. As soon as little 
 Anna observed this reflection of her own thoughts, she re- 
 joiced from the bottom of her heart, and declared Milla to 
 be " spiritually minded." She was astonished that they had 
 not discovered each other before. 
 
 Then came the time when Milla's mother was given up 
 by the doctors. Little Anna's energy was more than 
 natural ; she watched beside the sick-bed with her friend, she 
 read, she sang, she prayed ; for Fru Engel's life must and
 
 THE STAFF. 149 
 
 should be saved ; the doctor could not save her, but prayer 
 could — how confident she was, how enraptured ! And then 
 when Fru Engel died notwithstanding, she would literally 
 have rejoiced to have given her life for Milla ; it was so beauti- 
 ful to her to see the rich heiress, surrounded with all the com- 
 forts of life, pleading on her knees to Jesus ; and now, when 
 the prayers had not availed, she still trusted — nay, in the 
 midst of her sorrow she thanked God with her, entirely sub- 
 missive to His will. Little Anna felt from the bottom of her 
 heart that a bond had been twined between them which 
 death alone could sever. 
 
 Milla returned to school three weeks later than the others ; 
 she took a place next to Anna Rogne. They drove up 
 together nearly every day, and they returned together in the 
 carriage, for Milla was still living in the country, and Anna 
 was almost always with her. 
 
 Milla's return made a stir, her mourning suited her to 
 perfection ; her pale face and subdued manner accorded with 
 it like dull silver work on velvet. The quiet gentleness with 
 which she accepted everything, even Nora's eager worship, 
 gained her much considerate kindness. 
 
 The first day or two seemed devoted to expressing 
 sympathy with Milla. 
 
 But there was a new face among them, a new figure there 
 on the form in front of her, a new voice, fresh ways — and, 
 what was not less important to Milla — a new dress. 
 Especially when the new hat and mantle were added to it, a 
 more daring choice of colours was presented, a more delicate 
 cut, richer details, than she had ever seen before. She knew 
 who the new-comer was — the daughter of the chief custom- 
 house officer Holm, from Bergen, the one with the brown 
 face, large dark eyes, and curly white hair : a curiously shy 
 man, who drank, drank so that it was only through forbear- 
 ance that he retained his post ; he had ten children ! 
 
 Tora was the eldest, and had been brought up, from 
 her twelfth year, partly in England, partly in France, by 
 an uncle who had been a shipbroker, first in the one 
 country, then in the other; he had just died, leaving his 
 adopted daughter a small annuity. Milla knew all this. 
 Anna had also incidentally observed that Tora Holm was 
 pretty. 
 
 But this was not the right word. Where were Anna's 
 eyes ? Tora was a beauty, and her beauty was singular and
 
 I50 THE HERITAGE 01' THE HURTS. 
 
 " foreign." Anna had used her ears as little as her eyes, for 
 there was but one opinion about it. 
 
 Milla did nothing the whole of the first day but look at 
 Tora, who, although her back was turned towards her, could 
 not keep quiet, but twisted and turned as though she could 
 feel the other's eyes on her neck. The more restless Tora 
 became, the more calmly Milla studied her. At home, in 
 the sitting-room, stood a head of the young Augustus in 
 marble, it had been Milla's admiration from childhood. 
 And now there it was, on a girl's body, on the bench before 
 her, moving in brightness and colour. 
 
 The brow was exactly the same, the whole shape of the 
 head, broad above ; the curve of the cheeks and chin, the 
 arch of the eyebrows the same, all the same ! The eyes 
 were different and more full of life, for those of the Augustus 
 gave the impression of dulness, or at least heaviness. These 
 sparkled incessantly in changing shades of blue-grey, under 
 long dark eyelashes. The mouth was full and curved, 
 the hair black-brown, or brown-black, as the light fell upon 
 it. The complexion was a sort of pale olive. Milla had no 
 words to express it; it was a combination she had never seen 
 before. There was a large, very large birth-mark on her 
 cheek, perhaps it was that which disturbed her, for she never 
 turned that cheek when she looked round at Milla. Her 
 figure was developed, very strong and statuesque. Appa- 
 rently she was a little over sixteen. She did not look well 
 at the moment, she was flushed and had dark lines under 
 her eyes ; the perspiration stood on her face. 
 
 Her whole appearance was striking; Milla looked at her 
 without a trace of envy ; what taste this new girl had, beyond 
 pnything she bad ever seen ; how much she must know ! 
 
 Every now and then Milla looked at her next neighbour. 
 Anna sat there, spare and angular, her thin, blue, and in- 
 ordinately long fingers especially occupied Milla to-day. 
 What a contrast ! 
 
 Should she speak to the new-comer, be friendly to her? 
 Perhaps it would be a little forward. From the moment 
 that siie saw her during the next " recreation," walking arm- 
 in-arm with Nora, this idea was dropped as a matter of course. 
 
 During the three weeks which preceded Milla's return, a 
 good deal bad happened ; a revolution had silently begun 
 which was not yet at an end.
 
 THE STAFF. 151 
 
 Tora Holm made her appearance in the school rather 
 untowardly. She arrived late, met no one in tlie hall, and 
 did not know where to go ; every one was assembled in the 
 "laboratory" for morning prayers. At that moment Karl 
 Vangen, who had been detained at the bedside of a sick 
 person, rushed in and almost overturned her ; then became 
 as confused as only a young clergyman can, mistook her 
 for the new teacher, and bewildered himself and her by his 
 embarrassment. It was therefore some little time before she, 
 in her Bergen sing-song, could explain who she was, and 
 when he heard it, and it flashed into his mind that she was 
 in trouble for her uncle's death and had returned to an 
 unhappy home, he broke out, " We will all be so kind to you 
 here; so" — he seized her hand — "welcome, welcome!" 
 Before he could say more she began to cry. She was 
 nervous and timid, everything was new and strange. He 
 could think of nothing else to do than to open the door and 
 call out " Mother." 
 
 And out came Fru Rendalen with her spectacles awry, 
 and asked rather shortly (for Fru Rendalen was particular, 
 and this should not have happened), "What is it, Karl?" 
 
 " Here is Froken Holm, custom-house officer Holm's 
 daughter, mother." 
 
 "Very well, let her come in," answered Fru Rendalen, 
 opening the door wide. " How do you do ? " she said as she 
 stood in the doorway and held out her hand to Tora in the 
 half-lighted hall. There was far too much of a command 
 in her tone for Tora not to advance. Fru Rendalen then 
 saw that she had come crying to school like a little thing of 
 five years old. She was surprised; she showed her a place, 
 which Tora shyly took, and asked one ot the teachers to 
 help her off with her hat and cloak, which the little donkey 
 had kept on — thought Fru Rendalen to herself. 
 
 They sang a hymn and Karl spoke about meeting — when- 
 ever one discovers anything good in a person, one meets 
 God — that was his subject. 
 
 At the moment Tora was only conscious of the sound of 
 a powerful voice, she was tormented by the remembrance of 
 her unlucky entrance and the impression it had made ; first 
 and foremost upon Fru Rendalen, but also on the others, she 
 had seen that plainly; she could not keep quiet, she turned 
 away when any one looked at her, turned this way and that
 
 152 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 as though she wished both to be looked at, and not to be 
 looked at. If any one spoke to her, which happened after 
 a while, she coloured, and answered something which she 
 at once contradicted. This went on during the first three 
 days. She knew neither Norwegian geography nor Nor- 
 wegian history — indeed, she did not know a single thing 
 except English and French, and coloured up when this was 
 discovered ; but when it was also discovered that she spoke 
 both these languages fluently, she coloured up just as much. 
 She would not do gymnastics on any consideration — at last 
 she said she had no dress. She made herself one which 
 was a masterpiece of coquetry; but this she denied, and 
 declared it to be purely and simply ugly. She could not go 
 on long with the gymnastics, strongly built as she was, but 
 gave in completely and began to cry. Miss Hall, who 
 superintended the gymnastics and introduced special 
 exercises for some of the girls, led her towards the window 
 and looked at her. Miss Hall had pardy forgotten her 
 Norse, and did not remember at the moment that Tora 
 spoke English ; she tried to find a word while she examined 
 her. Tora misunderstood this and ran away from her, put 
 on her things and went straight home, refusing to return to 
 school. It required no little trouble before she could be 
 brought back, not only to school but as a boarder; she 
 needed better food than she got at home, for she was begin- 
 ning in chlo7-osis ; this was the word that Miss Hall could not 
 remember. Tora now shared Miss Hall's room ; she was 
 the first, though afterwards one of the pupils always did so. 
 
 Little by little the new-comer forgot herself so far as to 
 be able to sit still, but never if any one looked at her 
 steadily, or talked about her. She must feel it in her back, 
 her companions said. They tried experiments and laughed 
 when she really did by degrees become uneasy, and at last 
 turned round and looked at them. 
 
 Nora had been a boarder during the past year and was 
 often up at the school. She did not speak to Tora except 
 just in passing, but one Sunday Tora asked her if she might 
 do her hair for her. This made as much stir among the 
 boarders as though she had offered Nora some new hair. 
 Word was sent from room to room; they all collected, big ones 
 and little ones, to see Nora with new hair. They stood there, 
 they leaned over one another, while the great work went on. 
 
 I
 
 THE STAFF. 153 
 
 For what was done was nothing less ; laughter soon 
 changed to astonishment, to admiration, to applause. 
 
 One day, when Nora's hair was untidy, Tora had suddenly 
 noticed that this was becoming to her. It suited the large, 
 wide, open eyes, by far the most striking part of her little face. 
 She had next to no forehead, very small cheeks, a little 
 mouth with cherry lips, and a rather large nose, a real family 
 nose ; but it only seemed to set off the eyes, so that it was 
 the eyes all the same — nothing but eyes. Now what was 
 wanted was some way of raising the hair, so that it should 
 help the eyes as well. Tora had seen a great deal, and often 
 had "inspirations," but never as yet in hair-dressing. She 
 had one now. Naturally she began by letting it all down 
 and combing it out, then took the front hair and made it 
 into two large rolls, one on each side, lightly twisted ; it was 
 very little in itseh", and not at all striking, but the effect in 
 this case was amazing. When her eyes grew large, the hair 
 looked as though it would spread its wings and fly away, 
 sometimes almost as though it flickered— the hair was natu- 
 rally a little wavy. 
 
 Up to this time Nora had never been thought pretty, 
 there were other qualities in her which one noticed ; but now 
 Rendalen himself, who very rarely looked closely at any 
 one, stopped short as he was reading aloud, when, chancing 
 to raise his eyes, he caught sight of Nora; the whole class 
 knew what he thought. The one who was least concerned 
 was perhaps Nora herself ; now she had settled about her 
 hair, and she need not think anything more about it ; but 
 when Tora Holm, as their friendship increased, began to 
 rave about her talents, and, with her tendency towards 
 exaggeration, declared that Nora was "all soul," that her 
 music "absolutely carried one away," and that her chance 
 remarks always "hit the right nail on the head," that 
 really was something ! She longed for more with insatiable 
 voracity, and cultivated the friendship. Tora Holm con- 
 stantly made discoveries ; the most important one was that 
 Nora was always right, even if she had been capricious 
 towards others, hasty — nay, even when she had had a slight 
 fit of untruthfulness, Nora was right, quite right — a^ the 
 bottom. 
 
 It now struck Nora that Tora Holm was the first person 
 who had ever thoroughly understood her : to think that a
 
 154 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Stranger who looked at her with fresh impartial eyes should 
 have discovered this at once ! The more they saw of each 
 other, the more gifted they thought each other. Tora's 
 talent for telling stories was the " greatest " Nora had " ever 
 known ; " she gathered all her set round her to listen, and the 
 story-telling began. Fairy tales and romances by turns — 
 what had not Tora read, what did she not remember? The 
 girls would listen over and over again to the " Thousand 
 and One Nights '^ (not the condensed edition, but the full 
 one) as though they were little children. As well as this, 
 they liked pictures of real life which did not go beyond their 
 comprehension, though they preferred that the lovers (and 
 by inference also themselves) should be noble and unhappy. 
 These girls of fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen (Tora herself 
 was nearly seventeen), for various reasons had, outside their 
 school subjects, read only by stealth, with the results which 
 naturally follow. The books which Rendalen had read to 
 them had greatly widened their horizon and increased their 
 desire to know more, so that Tora was doubly welcome. 
 
 But between the story-telling times Nora wished to have 
 her to herself, really to possess her ; Nora-Tora, Tora-Nora, 
 wove themselves together, no one else could approach them, 
 Nora announced this openly ; they two preferred being by 
 themselves. 
 
 Every one knew Nora, and understood that in a few days 
 it would be over ; they only laughed, but there was one who 
 did not laugh. 
 
 Tinka Hansen could not endure faithlessness ; she had 
 taken Nora to task on one or two occasions and warned her. 
 This time she was silent, and allowed the penalty to consist 
 in punctiliously respecting their wish to remain apart. Nora 
 could never get her to come with her. 
 
 Very soon Nora began to feel lonely among all these 
 delightful Oriental palaces ; she did not realise this till she 
 discovered that without Tinka she did not feel free to do as 
 she liked, without her she dared not always listen. Tora's 
 romances were often very " French." For more than a 
 year Nora had been used to the limits which Tinka imposed. 
 She was not sure if she were now inside or outside them, 
 and an uneasy conscience was the result. Tora had to 
 suffer for this ; Nora did not know what they ought to do ; 
 she peremptorily cut short a story which had been begun,
 
 THE STAFF. 155 
 
 ordered another, but stopped that as well ; made promises 
 and did not keep them, and felt bored. And it was just at 
 the beginning of this period that Milla returned to school. 
 
 One Thursday evening, in Fru Rendalen's room, Tomas 
 was going to read a new play to them. Tora Holm, 
 who chanced to be near Milla, looked at her new black 
 dress, which was a different one from that she wore in the 
 schoolroom. Without touching the dress she said, showing 
 with her fingers what she meant, the " trimming ought to have 
 gone so, not so, and had better have been narrower." She 
 did not wait for an answer, but walked further on and sat 
 down. 
 
 The day after, before morning prayers began, Milla came 
 up to her and thanked her ; she had tried it and found that 
 Tora was right. There was no time for more, but during 
 the first "recreation" they involuntarily sought each other 
 out. " How could you see that at once ? " asked Milla. 
 
 " I tried it the other day on a doll," answered Tora. 
 
 " On a doll ? " asked Milla with a slight blush. Tora felt 
 that she ought not to have let this out ; she was always 
 doubtful about what she ought to do. What a delicate 
 instinct Milla Engel must have, to blush on her account ! 
 
 " So you dress dolls, do you? " said Milla smiling, as she 
 passed her the next day. Tora protested ; it really was not 
 clear what she protested, whether it were that she had one 
 or two dolls, or that it was her sisters who had them, or that 
 even married women often have dolls, so that there could 
 be nothing odd in that, or else that she quite saw how un- 
 becoming it was since every age ought to suit with its ... . 
 She said all this, and a great deal more, in her Bergen sing- 
 song, and Milla smiled. " Won't you come in and see me 
 this afternoon ? We are back from the country now." 
 
 Tora had not refused before Milla had said good-bye, 
 but afterwards she felt dreadfully embarrassed about it. 
 Nevertheless at six o'clock she was there. 
 
 Tora had a great wish to get up in the world — she would 
 not be chained to a home such as hers was, to such a fate 
 as threatened her. 
 
 Consul Engel's house was almost the only one in the 
 town where the door was kept closed all day. When one 
 rang, either a man-servant or a maid opened the door, and 
 one entered a house where there was Brussels carpet in the
 
 156 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 passages and on the stairs, as well as in the rooms, and 
 where, to begin with, one found oneself between two mirrors 
 where one could see oneself from head to foot. 
 
 Tora was shown upstairs. " Froken Engel's " room was 
 there. She was heartily welcomed. The rooms were those 
 which Fru Engel had occupied daring the last years of her 
 life ; she had very rarely left them. 
 
 She had died here, and it was for that reason that the 
 family had gone so late into the country this year, and 
 had only just returned to the house. 
 
 Every comfort which a room can possess was there ; the 
 chairs and couches were all as soft as the cushions of an in- 
 valid, you seemed to sink into them ; they were upholstered 
 in moss-green silk, and the curtains and portieres were of the 
 same material and colour, the walls were a dark indefinite 
 colour. There was an old-fashioned rosewood cabinet in 
 inlaid work, with a number of small pigeon-holes and recep- 
 tacles in it. Tora never wearied of looking at it. An Erard 
 piano with carved heads and emblems, a bookcase in the 
 same style. Pictures, especially landscapes, which made 
 one long for the evening sun, with its hazy light and almost 
 sultry heat. 
 
 Tora went from one to another, she looked at every single 
 thing as though it were a person with whom she wished to 
 make friends. From there she went to the bedroom, and 
 admired the soft carpet into which her feet sank, the little 
 chaise-longtte in one corner, the bed with its rich hangings, 
 the variety and elegance of the toilette apparatus. Milla's 
 pleasure at seeing her was expressed in the one remark that 
 she had never before taken any one up into her mother's rooms. 
 
 There was only one piece of furniture which did not 
 please Tora ; at last she could no longer contain herself, it 
 assorted so ill with its surroundings. " What is there in that 
 press, dear ? Why is it here ? " Milla replied, smiling, that it 
 was very incongruous, she knew ; it had not been there before 
 — in fact, it was her own, she had had it ever since she was a 
 child. 
 
 " But can't it stand in another place ? " 
 
 " No, not very well." 
 
 There was something of reserve in this answer, she could 
 not inquire further. As Tora was leaving Milla asked her 
 to come again soon, but she had better let her know before-
 
 THE STAFF. 157 
 
 hand, so that they might be alone — that would be the 
 pleasantest. Tora understood that this was meant for Anna 
 Rogne, but that Avas no affair of hers. 
 
 It so chanced that the next time she sat telling stories in the 
 twilight to Nora and her friends, who for convenience had 
 settled themselves on the floor on some carpets and eider- 
 downs, she let fall the remark, that " Of all the people I know, 
 the one who is most like Gulnare is IMilla Engel." This, to 
 her audience, was much like saying before the king that he 
 was not the wisest man in the kingdom. Nora was amazed, 
 her friends almost broke out into open anger. Tora fek thai 
 she had done a foolish thing ; she tried to explain herself by 
 ascribing that " passive " beauty to Milla which was here 
 implied. The expressions active and passive were at that 
 time war-cries in the senior class ; there were " active " people 
 and " passive " people, "active" eyes and " passive " tyes, 
 " active " and " passive " colours. 
 
 " But, good gracious," said one of the girls, " Milla has 
 not dark hair ; she is fair." 
 
 "So is Nora," answered the thoughtless Tora. 
 
 " I certainly have no wish to be a passive beauty, or an 
 Eastern princess," answered Nora angrily. 
 
 " No, I did not mean that at all, I only meant " she 
 
 stopped short, for she really did not know why she had 
 said it. 
 
 " That was sheer nonsense," the others declared, and 
 pressed Tora so hard that she declared, with tears in her 
 eyes, that Milla was the most refined and the prettiest girl 
 in the school. She (Tora) was only too happy to know 
 any one who was so considerate, so full of tact ; it was more 
 than could be said of every one. 
 
 This was too much. Gina Krog herself, who was always 
 forbearing, did not now scruple to announce that she had 
 known for two days, but had not wished to tell, that Tora 
 went to see Milla and that they were bosom friends. There 
 was a dead silence. Soon afterwards Nora left, and the 
 others dispersed. Tora tried to explain, but they would not 
 listen to her. 
 
 None of the boarders belonged to Milla's party ; not a 
 girl there had set her foot inside Milla Engel's door — for 
 khe reason that they had never been asked. 
 
 However much Tora tossed about and turned herself and
 
 158 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 her pillow that night, she could not sleep, it vexed and hurt 
 her that she could not be friends with one without losing 
 the friendship of the other. Now the whole school would 
 look on her as a faithless wretch. Heaven knew that she was 
 not, yet she might be sent to Coventry for it, it might always 
 be remembered against her. It was a question of the future 
 for her. She had been so tossed about, she felt so insecure, 
 she was always stretching out her arms for something solid 
 to cling to, which as constantly eluded her grasp. She cried 
 bitterly, she liked them both so much, each in her own way, 
 though they were so different. Why should she not if she 
 liked ? What could she do ? She did not wish to sacri- 
 fice either of them. 
 
 The next day was Sunday ; she had to go to church, but 
 she would not wait for the others, who were going as well 
 — so she went straight off to Milla. Milla was dressed for 
 church ; they met in the hall, but she was surprised when 
 Tora asked if she might speak to her. She took her into 
 her room and locked the door. Tora began to cry and told 
 her everything exactly as it had happened ; she did not 
 conceal that she was fond of them both and why she was so, 
 nor how lonely she felt, and what an effect this might have 
 on her future. Nora had so much influence both among 
 the boarders and the day girls. 
 
 In the midst of the story, just as Tora had paused for a 
 moment to cry, Milla heard some one at the door; there was 
 a knock, she opened it just wide enough to step through ; 
 in a little time she returned and said that she and Anna 
 Rogne had made an engagement to go to church together, 
 but that she had excused herself on the score of a headache ; 
 it was certainly the second Sunday that she had done so, 
 but it could not be helped ; Milla was sorry for Tora, she 
 really was fond of her, it showed itself now. She promised 
 not to take anything in bad jjart which Tora might devise, 
 so as to keep on good terms with Nora and her numerous 
 friends. Milla really was very sweet. 
 
 Tora had only time to put her arms round her and kiss 
 her for this, for she must show herself in church. But might 
 she come again in the afternoon ? She was very much con- 
 soled, but she longed for more ; she was so frightened, she 
 must manage to talk everything over with her. Milla asked 
 her to come again as early as ever she could.
 
 THE STAFF.   159 
 
 Tora came again after coffee ; as soon as she had locked 
 the door, Milla whispered, as she put her arm round Tora's 
 neck, that now she was going to give her a treat, she 
 felt certain that it would please her. To no one, absolutely 
 to no one, had she shown what Tora was going to see. The 
 press there 
 
 " The press, well ? " 
 
 *' Once it held my dolls." 
 
 "Your dolls!" 
 
 " Every one knows that it does not now," said Milla ; 
 as she spoke she flung it open. The large double 
 doors, both the upper and lower ones, flew back together, 
 and the girls could see four stories of a house ; the 
 bottom one a complete and marvellously dainty kitchen, 
 scullery and dining-room, above a drawing-room, a large 
 elegant apartment with the most lovely furniture upholstered 
 in silk, a black rosewood table, fireplace, looking-glass, 
 clock. On the third story a bedroom, with the sweetest 
 little beds — real actual beds — and a wash-hand stand, where 
 everything was to be found, down to the most minute details. 
 On the fourth story was the wardrobe, a magnificent doll's 
 wardrobe. There were changes in silk, velvet, vwire antique^ 
 in different colours ; a whole collection of materials which 
 had not yet been made up ; scraps of every description 
 evidently collected with diligence and care during many 
 years. And linen, even stockings, and other underclothing, 
 all in duplicate, as well as hats, mantles, ornaments, 
 belts. 
 
 Tora shrieked ; she was down on her knees and up on tip- 
 toe ; she did not at first lay a finger on them, but devoured 
 them with her eyes, unable to take in the whole — it could 
 not be grasped all at once, there was too much, too great a 
 variety, it was too wonderfully minute. She had not even 
 counted the dolls yet. " One, two, three, four — five — six ! 
 seven ! ! eight ! ! ! " 
 
 She had begun softly, but her voice rose at every number, 
 so that Milla hastened to say, " Twelve, twelve, thert are 
 twelve." 
 
 " Twelve ! actually twelve ! Oh dear ! oh dear ! Have 
 you kept all the dolls you have ever had in your life, never 
 spoilt a single one ?" 
 
 Well, yes she had, but never one since she was seven.
 
 l6o THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 "Wait a minute." And solemnly as though she were afraid 
 they might disappear, Tora carefully put in her hand and 
 took up the very, very sweetest big doll in light red silk, with 
 shoes and hat of the same colour, a dark red parasol, and a 
 little fan stuck into her belt ; her underclothes were made 
 like a real person's, with lace and embroidery, a pocket in her 
 dress with a pocket-handkerchief in it, and elegant French 
 gloves which fitted her hands ; as well a little brooch 
 shaped like a forget-me-not, and bracelets and watch in the 
 same style. Tora stood dumb with admiration, while she 
 turned the doll round, inspected the cut and make of the 
 dress, the underclothes ; held it away from her, then close to 
 her. At that moment there was a knock at the door. Some 
 one had come right upstairs without the preoccupied girls 
 having heard the least sound. They were startled. Milla 
 held up her finger. She turned red and white. Of course 
 it was Anna. But Anna had never seen the dolls, she would 
 not understand. 
 
 There were, she explained later, two more dolls in mourn- 
 ing, but Anna had been with her so much lately that she 
 had not been able to dress many of them, otherwise her plan 
 had been to have them all in mourning, that would have been 
 charming. Another knock, low and hesitating. They held 
 their breaths, Milla was quite unnerved. They heard her go ; 
 they listened so intently that they could hear her step on 
 the stairs. It was a most unlucky chance. Milla had given 
 orders that if any one beside Tora came, they were to say 
 that she had gone out for a walk on account of her headache. 
 But the maid who had received the order, Milla's own maid, 
 could not have answered the door, although it was her time 
 for doing so. What should Milla do ? But from this con- 
 sideration she was swept away by a whirlwind. 
 
 Nora lay on the bed in Tinka Hansen's room ; a little 
 wainscoted, blue-painted attic in shoemaker Hansen's new 
 house in the market-place. As well as the bed there was an 
 open bookshelf painted brown, one or two chairs, a large 
 wash-handstand intended for two, but for which no other place 
 could be found ; a high short sofa on which Tinka now sat, 
 looking across at the bed, her right arm resting on her little 
 desk which stood on the table before her. 
 
 Nora lay sobbing loudly, and Tinka sat calmly by and
 
 THE STAFF. l6l 
 
 looked at her ; Nora knew now what faithlessness was, how 
 it tasted to be deserted for the sake of another. 
 
 But it was more than being forsaken — she was abandoned, 
 deposed, made nothing of. Tora had lifted her up to the 
 skies; she was "all mind," "could not make a mistake." 
 And now this very Tora had dropped her — for Milla 
 Engel ! The world was nothing but lies and delusions. 
 " Oh dear ! Tinka, why cannot you be kind to me ? You 
 do not know how unhappy I am." But Tinka was silent. " I 
 cannot do without you, Tinka — no, I cannot. I have dis- 
 covered since this morning that I made nothing but mis- 
 takes. I have no stability — no, not a bit." 
 
 " No, that is it," said Tinka soothingly. 
 
 " Not a bit ; oh dear, what shall I do ? Won't you talk to 
 me ? " She cried dreadfully now. 
 
 " You only care for adoration, Nora." 
 
 " Not * only,' Tinka ; don't say ' only.' " 
 
 " No, no ; but you are never happy unless you are adored, 
 and one tires of that." 
 
 " What shall 1 do, Tinka ? Goodness knows I am tired of 
 it myself. Ah, you do not believe it, but it's true, especially 
 now since Milla is adored as well. Ugh ! it is disgusting to 
 think of." _ 
 
 " That is merely because it is Milla, and not you." 
 
 " No indeed, Tinka," and she raised herself on her elbow. 
 " Tora has given me so much of it that I am tired of it ; yes, 
 I am ; and to think that she is with Milla now." She flung 
 herself down again and cried with anger and vexation. She 
 raised herself again suddenly : " But I must get rid of all this ; 
 it is disgusting; I despise myself; you do not know what I 
 have been thinking since this morning. Help me, Tinka ; 
 you are the only one of them all who speaks the truth to 
 
 me." 
 
 Tinka was unmoved : Nora flung herself down again, 
 turned away and cried. 
 
 " I cannot understand," said Tinka at length, " that you 
 who rave so for " 
 
 " Do not use that word " — Nora interrupted her while she 
 made a gesture with her hand behind her — " it has become 
 loathsome now that Milla does it too. Milla * raves.' Can 
 you imagine anything so ? " 
 
 " Well^ well, I will not say ' rave.' "
 
 i62 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 "No, don't." 
 
 " Very well, I will say * interest yourself — you who interest 
 yourself so much in all that is just and great, and who are 
 also so brave, for you would cheerfully die for what you 
 think right " 
 
 "Yes, I could, Tinka; I beHeve I could do that; ah, how 
 nice it is to hear something good again, and especially from 
 you ; I feel quite astray." 
 
 " Yes, but now I am coming to what I want to say — do 
 you understand ? Is it not a shame that any one so excellent 
 should all the same be such a peacock ? " 
 
 " A peacock, Tinka ? " 
 
 "Yes, a peacock ; you are just like a peacock I" 
 
 " Am I ? I think you are " 
 
 " It was not I who said so." 
 
 " I thought as much." 
 
 " It was Tora who said so." 
 
 " Tora ! the ungrateful " 
 
 " Yes, but Tora is right ; you are dreadfully like a peacock, 
 Nora ; that thin little face of yours, and then you are so 
 slender." 
 
 " Come, I say, Tinka." 
 
 " Yes, it's true. All we friends agree as to that. We are 
 all to be the eyes in your tail. Yes, that is it." 
 
 Nora threw herself down and howled, with her head and 
 hands in the eider-down quilt. 
 
 " Yes, of course you have offended Tora — you offend every 
 one. You are so capricious, you are so spoilt." 
 
 " Yes, that is what I am ! " came from the eider-down. 
 
 " That is what you are. Frederik says so as well." 
 
 " What does Frederik say ? " 
 
 Nora raised her red face quickly up from the eider-down. 
 Frederik was an authority. 
 
 " I will read it to you," answered the other, opening the 
 desk, and taking out a letter of at least five sheets. 
 
 " He writes," she said, as she turned to the fourth side of 
 the fourth sheet, with the same calm deliberation with which 
 she had opened the desk, looked for the letter, closed the 
 desk again, and now read : " You must not be too severe 
 with her either, for if that were her real nature, she would 
 behave differently, and understand how to retain her 
 worshippers. As it is, she is only a spoilt child, who has
 
 THE STAFF. 163 
 
 never done anything without being praised for it, and has 
 besides become so capricious that she is tired to-day of those 
 who praised her yesterday." 
 
 " Oh dear ! how true that is, Tinka." 
 
 " But perhaps she will weary of caprice as well, for she 
 certainly desires something more than that. I was impressed 
 by that in the summer. But you must help her, 
 Tinka." 
 
 " Yes, you must." 
 
 Nora had raised herself, and now sat on the edge of the 
 bed. She had folded her hands, and looked at Tinka. 
 " You must always be with me. I am not content with 
 myself, when you are not with me. Oh Tinka ! I will 
 never, never, never be like that again. If you see the 
 slightest sign of it, you must take me to task for it. You 
 know I do want to be something more than this. I want 
 to be remarkable. Ah ! don't laugh, in reality I have no 
 wish to sing and make fun for the others, and be flattered 
 and flattered ; but it came so, I can't understand why. I 
 don't want it, I wish to be able to do something, to take up 
 something with an object. Yes, that is what I want. 
 Sometimes I beheve I must go off" to the wars, or die with 
 the Nihilists in Russia. Yes, I do believe it. Or else travel 
 about and lecture ; be hissed down and wounded. Yes, I 
 could. I don't know why it should be, but T long for it. 
 I don't say it to boast, Tinka, I only say it because I feel it 
 so. Believe me, I do feel it in that way. If I fail, it will 
 be because it is nothing but wishing ; perhaps I am incapable 
 of it. Well, all the same I have the wish. I have no wish 
 for the sort of thing I do now, and for which I am praised. I 
 have such an unconquerably strong, strong, strong longing." 
 
 She raised herself, her eyes sparkled through her tears ; 
 her hair stood on end, she had dishevelled it with her long 
 arms whilst she was crying. She threw herself down again. 
 Tinka could not resist all the pleasant remembrances which 
 Nora had awakened. She walked across and bent her broad 
 full figure over her. And there they sat for some time 
 together, talking that endearing nonsense which is proper 
 to the happiness of reconciliation. Tinka did not forget all 
 that she had treasured in her memory for Nora's benefit, 
 but the sting of it was gone. Nora's lively answers made 
 it all appear stupid, and at last she was ready to laugh at
 
 l64 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 what a little time before had seemed something very serious, 
 immensely important. 
 
 In the midst of this, some one rushed up the stairs, 
 step by step up the first flight, like the beat of a drum. 
 Then up the second, then the third, across to the attic, in 
 the same wild, unflagging whirl. There was only one who 
 ever came in that fashion, but it could not very well be she. 
 The door was not locked ; there was no knock ; it was 
 pushed open. Yes, it was Tora ! Good heavens ! 
 
 The amazement, vexation, dignity of the two girls ! 
 It could not have been done better at Court. Tinka's 
 perfect unconsciousness that there could be such a person 
 as Tora Holm in the world ; or Nora's noble and spiritual, 
 " Don't disturb me," without a word spoken. It was 
 splendid ! Never did so fine a representation more utterly 
 break down. Tora was beaming with delight, victory, and 
 rejoicing. She talked about twelve dolls, some of which 
 were as big as an ordinary child ; of — she really believed — 
 fifty dolls' dresses of different sorts, moire antique, silk and 
 velvet, beside morning dresses, embroidered skirts and 
 drawers, silk stockings, gloves and parasols; of beds and 
 curtains ; of a wash-hand stand, with all belonging to it, down 
 to the most minute details ; of everything from the kitchen 
 to the drawing-room, and the drawing-room furniture, of a 
 splendid plan about the dolls, who were all to go to a Court 
 Ball on the King's birthday ; about Milla, who was a hundred 
 thousand times better than they dreamed of, who did not 
 object, nay wished, that they should both come up with her 
 and see it all now, at once, and help about the Court Ball — 
 of course as the deepest of secrets. Yes, it was true \ 
 on her word of honour it was true. She told them how it 
 had all happened ; about Milla's room, what it was like, and 
 that she had been there a number of times without hearing 
 a word about the dolls. But to-day Milla had shown them 
 to her, merely out of the goodness of her heart to comfort her. 
 Now she wanted to show them to the others, if it could 
 be managed, and all four be friends from this time forward. 
 
 Tora had proposed it ; Milla had been startled, but 
 she had come round, and at last thought it a capital plan. 
 Milla was so good, and they must be so too; no hesi- 
 ation — they must. Why should there be two parties ? 
 Milla had her ways, Nora hers.
 
 THE STAFF. 165 
 
 They had never really done each other any harm, not the 
 least bit ; if they would only try to grasp the fact : " we can 
 talk more about it as we go." 
 
 The two looked at each other, but Tora gave them no 
 breathing time ; " We must tell them at home that we are 
 going to stay to tea, for that was what was meant. It would 
 never do to refuse an invitation, a formal invitation, to 
 the Engels." 
 
 Tora was a perfect whirlwind, carrying all before her, and 
 the storm of excitement had brought fire to her eyes, her 
 movements — she seemed to sparkle. She took possession of 
 them. 
 
 Not long afterwards they all four stood before the press ; 
 the introduction, the embarrassment from the change of cir- 
 cumstances, apologies, counter-apologies, occupied the first 
 few minutes; Tora took hold of Milla and pushed her 
 gently forward to the front of the press. 
 
 " Open ! open ! — we can talk afterwards — open ! " Milla 
 herself felt that here action was better than words, and 
 opened the door. 
 
 The cry of delight which was given by the new-comers 
 fully rewarded her. 
 
 There was an amount of industry, order, loyaKy and 
 sense of beauty in this little collection which she was aware 
 of herself, and which made it dear to her heart. It was her 
 treasure, never seen by many people, and for the last two or 
 three years only by herself; there was therefore a special 
 charm of secrecy in it; it would be enjoyed when some day 
 it was opened before the astonished eyes of others. And 
 now, how it was enjoyed 1 
 
 Each one found a special pleasure in it. Tinka looked 
 upon the dolls as so many little children, she talked baby 
 talk to them : "Doodness dacious " for " Goodness gracious," 
 and "tweet" for "sweet." She began to undress one for 
 the pleasure of dressing it again. 
 
 Tora delighted in the stuffs, felt each one, held them up 
 against the light, laid them one against the other. There 
 was a special piece of brocade which she now saw for the 
 first time (Milla looked it out for her), which absolutely en- 
 raptured her; it suggested plan upon plan, she talked 
 without a pause. Nora regarded the press as a collection 
 of works of art. Milla became a new person in her eyes.
 
 i66 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 It was evident what she thought of her now, one saw it in 
 Milla's slightly heightened colout. 
 
 They treated each other the whole evening with a dis- 
 tinction which the others considered as only natural. 
 
 They were soon all sitting round the table with the dolls 
 shared among them ; the materials and everything which 
 could be of use for this great object, a Court Ball, lay 
 scattered before them, and eight eyes and forty fingers 
 rummaged among them. They could not agree ; Tora wished 
 to have a costume ball, her endless chatter filled the air with 
 fancies and varying colours, a perfect whirl of figures of 
 damsels and rococo dames with ribbons, feathers, and hats. 
 Milla preferred the present day, the fashion plates, especially 
 some quite new ones. 
 
 Nora was sometimes on one side, sometimes on the 
 other, according as some special thing took her fancy. 
 Tinka opposed the idea; they could each one dress her 
 doll according to her own fancy. Nora and Tora rebelled 
 against this ; there ought to be some style in it. Milla dealt 
 with the proposal with more deliberation, but was against it. 
 Nora quickly grew impatient at this, and then by a sleight of 
 hand, which only girls understand, this discussion turned 
 into a disfiute about — Tomas Rendalen and Karl Vangen ! 
 Not between Tinka and the others ; but Tora against Nora 
 and Tinka. Tora being herself nervous, could not endure 
 Rendalen's nervousness. It was either this, or that she was 
 inclined to be in opposition ; otherwise it cannot be ex- 
 plained how it was, that from the first day she had been 
 unable to get on with Rendalen. A speaking resemblance 
 between a red-spotted stuff and Rendalen's hands had 
 started the dispute. Nora had hastily answered that his 
 hands were clever, really speaking hands ; Vangen's, on the 
 contrary, were " big and stupid, as broad at one end as the 
 other." 
 
 When there are only two masculine teachers in a girls' 
 school, the pupils very rarely praise both — one must be cen- 
 sured when the other is applauded ; and at school it was 
 generally honest Karl Vangen who was used as a foil, when- 
 ever any one felt inclined to become enthusiastic over the 
 intellectual Rendalen. 
 
 But on this point Tora was in opposition from the 
 moment when Karl Vangen had grasped her hand in warm
 
 THE STAFF. 167 
 
 welcome, and had beamed down at her with his kind eyes, 
 and besides had made their meeting the text of his address 
 that day — since then she had been fond of him. And the 
 more awkward and simple he was, the more she liked him 
 — she fought for him until the others were forced to respect 
 her. 
 
 This time it began very mildly, they merely taunted her 
 with Karl Vangen's "thick head," his wide mouth, his long 
 fingers, long legs and big feet; and she replied with allu- 
 sions to Rendalen's red hair, screwed-up eyes, his feminine 
 preciseness, his scented handkerchief; but it soon became 
 more serious. Tora's quick wit cited instances of Rendalen's 
 uncontrolled impetuosity, and what mistakes he made in 
 consequence. Instances of his uneven temper — how some- 
 times he rushed up and down the class without speaking, 
 without hearing, without seeing; at other times he was 
 nothing but life, absolutely given up to fun — far too much 
 so. The others considered that this was unjust, because if 
 this were mentioned by itself, no one would have the least 
 idea of Rendalen, who was, for all that^ the best and cleverest 
 teacher in the world. Tinka had a capricious talent for 
 mimicry and not the slightest leaning towards piety, so that 
 Karl Vangen very easily appeared to her in a ludicrous 
 light ; she now began to preach, or rather to bleat, like him, 
 with eyes gazing fixedly heavenwards. Nora laughed vio- 
 lently, Tora cried, Milla could not prevent herself from 
 laughing, but all the same, she now took Karl Vangen's 
 part ; she quietly remarked that she thought him " delight- 
 ful"; she did not mention Rendalen. As Milla was the 
 hostess and Nora and Tinka at her house for the first time, 
 they said no more ; but Tora would not give in ; she now 
 seriously began to sing Karl Vangen's praises. In order 
 not to answer and admit that there might be some truth in 
 it, Nora walked away humming and looked out of the 
 window, " Good gracious ! why there goes Anna Rogne," 
 she said. 
 
 " Has she been here ? " asked Milla, turning pale ; she got 
 up and came towards the window. Yes, certainly she saw 
 Anna hurrying away, she must be much disturbed ; she 
 herself, with as much speed as was becoming, hastened out 
 of the door and down the stairs. Some time elapsed before 
 she returned. She was silent and really upset ; Anna had
 
 x68 THE HERITAGE OF THE KVRTS. 
 
 been right upstairs and therefore outside their door. There 
 was general astonishment. Milla told them what had hap- 
 pened that morning, and how innocent she really was in the 
 matter. Tora at once took it upon herself and was terribly 
 unhappy. 
 
 " No, the blame is mine alone," said Milla. 
 
 What should she do ? she had ordered the carriage. 
 
 No one answered, but they looked involuntarily at Tinka. 
 
 " Yes," said Tinka, " we will all go together to fetch 
 Anna and explain to her how it happened." Nora and Tora 
 agreed at once that that was the only right thing to do. 
 Milla, too, admitted that this would be best, but she had 
 never said anything to Anna about the dolls ; Anna did not 
 care for such things, and now it could not very well be 
 explained to her without offence. Nora and Tora were 
 sensible of this ; it would not do. 
 
 Tinka held to her opinion ; she would gladly undertake 
 it by herself. 
 
 No ; if any one were to do so it should be Milla. 
 
 This put the idea into Milla's head to write. Simply say 
 to Anna that the others were here, would she not come too ? 
 She sent the carriage. Yes, the others thought that would 
 do. 
 
 " Go yourself! " said Tinka. 
 
 " No, I am not so discourteous as that to my guests," 
 laughed Milla. She sat down to write. 
 
 The others were quiet for a time ; at last Nora broke in 
 with, " Tinka is certainly right ; go yourself, we can easily go 
 out just for that time." 
 
 " No," answered Milla, looking up from her letter ; " Anna 
 need not know that we saw her. Then it would be the 
 most natural thing in the world for me to send a message to 
 her when you are here." The others could not contradict 
 this. She finished off the note and hurried down with it ; 
 as she came up again they heard the carriage drive out of 
 the gate, at the side of the house. Milla smiled ; " I said I 
 would explain another time why you had come. I told 
 Hans to be quick and to drive a little way round so as not 
 to pass Anna, perhaps the carriage will be there before she 
 is." It was evident that she was pleased at having proved 
 equal to a difficult occasion. 
 
 They resumed their discussion on the dolls' festival; but
 
 THE STAFF. 169 
 
 before the carnage returned with Anna, the dolls and their 
 things must be back in the press. 
 
 Suddenly Nora broke out : " If we are not to mention the 
 dolls to Anna, why in the world could we not have all gone 
 to her together?" 
 
 They looked puzzled at each other for a moment. It was 
 true ! They burst out laughing. What had given them the 
 mad idea that for them all to go together would be to let 
 out the secret of the dolls. They tried to recall the course 
 of their conversation, but could not determine it; at all 
 events it showed that they had uneasy consciences. Tinka 
 proposed in good time to put away the dolls, their ward- 
 robe and stuffs, under Milla's superintendence ; but Milla 
 undertook to put the whole thing tidy later on, they could 
 sit quiet while she did so. They all objected to this ; it 
 would be awfully amusing to put them away. And so it was 
 settled. 
 
 The carriage returned without Anna — she had a headache. 
 Tora looked at Milla, and Milla at Tora ; this was a final 
 good-bye. It put them all out of tune for a little while, but 
 when they remembered that at all events they could take 
 the dolls out again, the three guests soon consoled them- 
 selves. 
 
 As soon as they had got to work, the conversation natu- 
 rally turned upon Anna ; none of the three liked her, they 
 thought her artificial, prcteiitieuse, as Tora expressed it in 
 rather affected French ; Anna was always trying to take up 
 some special line ; everything she said, or did, must be so 
 dreadfully thorough. But they all agreed that she wrote 
 well ; it was true, for the two things went naturally together. 
 
 They then began to make fun of her extreme piety. 
 Milla had said nothing about the first; as regarded the 
 second, she contented herself by remarking that she had 
 perhaps a little too much of it, 
 
 Nora was the first to forsake the table. She could not go 
 on any longer, she must have a little music, she said. The 
 grand piano was tried, Milla was afraid that it was not quite 
 in tune ; nor was it, but what a tone ! Nora sang, while the 
 others dressed dolls; then she worried Tinka to join her. but 
 at first Tinka would not leave her blue doll ; at last Milla 
 asked her to do so. They had sung one or two songs when 
 there was a knock at the door. Milla's maid announced
 
 170 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 that the Consul had arrived ; there was great surprise, he 
 was not expected. Milla hurried down. The others all 
 agreed at once that they must go, it would be dull work 
 having tea with the Consul. Tora especially shrank from 
 it, her cuffs were not quite clean ; would it do to ask Milla 
 to lend her a pair ? During this discussion the door was 
 opened, in came Milla, quicker than any one believed it 
 possible for her to move. " Father's coming," she whis- 
 pered, and hurried to the table with the others after her. 
 From there to the press, from the press to the table, from 
 the table to the press ; heads and shoulders were knocked 
 together, toes trodden on, amid smothered cries, laughter 
 and scolding ; everything was oft" the table and locked up as 
 the Consul knocked at the door. Nora had pushed Tinka 
 on to the sofa, she herself sat gravely on a chair, Milla and 
 Tora stood by the press. The Consul came in, elegant and 
 smiling as usual. He saw the four girls red with suppressed 
 laughter, or whatever it might be, embarrassed, constrained. 
 "What the deuce is it?" he thought, and came forward to 
 Nora, the Sheriff"'s daughter, bowed politely, bade her wel- 
 come, and asked after her parents ; then to the others as 
 Milla introduced them, and then back again to Nora ; he 
 asked merrily if he might have the pleasure of taking her 
 downstairs. He had just come from the steamer, and was 
 as hungry as one only can be after a sea voyage. 
 
 She took his arm, but he wished the others to go first, 
 which they hesitated to do, it seemed as though one were 
 waiting for the other. Tinka could not understand why 
 Tora did not move, and when the Consul turned towards 
 her again she came forward, although it was rather embarrass- 
 ing. Why did not Milla help her ? She stood there too, as 
 though she had taken root. The Consul gave his daughter 
 a little push : " Ava?icez, inesdemoiselles." She was obliged 
 to come a little forward and the lower part of a doll became 
 visible ! It lay there, " naked and face downwards/' as the 
 song says. Tora tried to cover it up, but the Consul had 
 caught sight of it, and with a " pardon me, Froken," he 
 stooped and picked it up. Tora ran, Tinka ran, Milla ran, 
 Nora let go his arm and ran, and the Consul after them 
 with the doll. " What is this — what in the world is this ? " 
 
 They all rushed into the dining-room and stood there in 
 a group, convulsed with laughter, as the Consul followed
 
 THE STAFF. 171 
 
 them with the doll in the air like a flag. It was the blue 
 doll which Tinka had undressed for the third time, and was 
 going to put to bed just as the Consul came and every- 
 thing was hurry-scurry. It must have slipped down and 
 bashfully hidden itself under a skirt at the time the press 
 was closed. Milla and Tora had discovered it at the same 
 moment, and both placed themselves over it. 
 
 The Consul sat down with the doll in his arms, then he 
 laid it down in his table napkin, and after looking at it once 
 or twice he put it on the table with a teacup under its 
 head. Milla snatched it from him. 
 
 " Do you really play with dolls ? " 
 
 No, indeed, they had come to consult together about Christ- 
 mas presents. Milla gave this answer. 
 
 "Why should you hide such a harmless thing?" asked 
 the Consul. 
 
 "Because the doll was undressed, of course," answered 
 his daughter. Nora soon joined in, she was used to this 
 sort of thing, she also had a father who loved to tease girls. 
 
 The other two took but little part, but as against that, the 
 Consul kept his eyes on them almost continually. Tinka 
 could quite understand that Tora might attract his attention, 
 but why should she ? She grew uneasy by degrees. Her 
 dress might have come unsewn somewhere near the arm, it 
 happened so to her sometimes ; she looked as well as she 
 could, but failed to discover anything ; she felt as though she 
 had no dress on at all. 
 
 The Consul was very merry ; suddenly he turned all his 
 attention to Tora, they had only been a short time at table 
 and she had finished already ! The fact was that the 
 unlucky cuffs worried Tora to such an extent that they ran 
 between her and her wits. The Consul looked at her sud- 
 denly ; it was not the birth-mark that he was looking at, for 
 she had been careful to have that side next to Milla ; it was 
 certainly not her face, his looks were directed lower than 
 that. She put down her knife and fork and hid her hands 
 under the table. 
 
 "You are not eating, my dear Froken Holm ; are you not 
 well, missie ? What's amiss with you ? Or is there any- 
 thing particular you want? Just say what it is. Milla, 
 give Froken Holm another cup of tea. No tea either ? A 
 glass of wine ? Come now, just a glass of wine. Your good
 
 172 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 health, Froken ! But you won't drink any ? Do you prefer 
 Madeira? Good gracious, are you blushing about it? 
 
 Headache? Dear, dear! Perhaps you would like ? 
 
 Shall Milla help you ? Not that either ? Just say what you 
 want, my dear. Have you often a headache, Froken Holm ? 
 What, you have not got one ? I once knew a girl, who would 
 have a headache merely if something were amiss with her 
 cuffs. But my dear Milla, I do not want to tease Froken 
 Holm. Is that what it is, Froken Holm ? " 
 
 Tora was overcome by a feeling of helplessness which 
 would seize her for even a smaller cause than this, and which 
 alv/ays made her cry. She had to leave the table and hasten 
 upstairs. 
 
 Milla rose with a dignity which her friends admired, and 
 followed her. When the others joined her, Tora was gone. 
 Milla looked pale, but was completely silent as to what had 
 passed. Nora and Tinka began to put on their things, 
 Milla making no objection. She kissed them and begged 
 them to come again, repeating her invitation down in the 
 hall. It was only when she was upstairs alone, and had 
 locked the door, that she burst into tears. Such a thing 
 would never have happened if her mother had been at table, 
 she could not fill her place ; her father had vexed her terribly. 
 Her mother had left her so much too soon. " Oh, mother, 
 mother, mother ! " There was a knock at the door. She 
 asked who it was. Her father ; of course she had to open, 
 but she went back to the sofa and flung herself crying into 
 the furthermost corner. He sat down quietly, and after a few 
 moments he said very gently, almost in a whisper, " Listen, 
 Milla ; I am sorry for what has happened, I wish I knew 
 better how it had come about. But it is annoying, of course 
 chiefly for your sake. I never thought she could take it so 
 to heart. I was so pleased that your friends should come 
 to see you. Especially these girls. All the same, and 
 perhaps it was that feeling which influenced me, have you 
 been careful enough in the choice of one of them, Milla ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Nothing particular, don't be so vehement, my dear ! 
 You do not quite understand me. A girl who is so uncertain 
 of herself and — well — whom one can so easily confuse — there 
 might come a time when you would repent that you had 
 been intimate with her."
 
 THE STAFF. 173 
 
 Milla got up, literally as white as a sheet. She felt exactly 
 as though he had spoken of her ; there are very few girls 
 of her age who would not have felt so. But she did not say 
 a word. She cried bitterly as she went into her bedroom, 
 shutting the door behind her. 
 
 The next day, the moment the time for recreation was 
 sounded, Milla took Tora by the arm, and during every 
 recreation it was the same thing. They were both beaming 
 with good-humour ; Nora and Tinka greatly admired Milla 
 for this. They had not thought that she had so much heart 
 and spirit. 
 
 This little occurrence, more than anything else, laid the 
 foundation of their friendship. 
 
 The Staff was formed. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SOCIETY. 
 
 It was soon noticed that the whole of the senior class and 
 that next to it had come under a single influence. 
 
 Rendalen was so much struck by the alteration, without 
 understanding the ground for it, that at last he made in- 
 quiries, and it was explained to him. He was much amused, 
 gave the four girls their celebrated name, and at the 
 same time suggested that they should form a " Society." It 
 was true that they already had social evenings at his mother's, 
 and they would continue these, but it would be better if they 
 took the whole aftair into their own hands ; select the sub- 
 jects for readings and lectures, or for discussion, among them- 
 selves. The last especially. Girls had so many " fancies " in 
 their heads that they ought to learn in early life to be able 
 to carry out a thought, to pursue a special interest. A 
 Society ! The senior class is to institute a Society. They 
 may invite their friends from the town or the elder girls from 
 the second class. They will be allowed to speak at the 
 meetings on what subjects they choose, invite whom they 
 like to take part in the readings and music, they and no one 
 else. They were to be empowered to make rules, elect a 
 president, and secretary, impose fines ! What fancies this
 
 174 TtiE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 awakened, not in the senior class alone, but in all of them, 
 down to the little ones who learned to spell, and sing songs 
 about the cat. What a stir at meal-times, what a whispering 
 during lessons, what commotions at play-time ! When a 
 school is excited by a question which must not be openly 
 discussed in lesson hours, it causes despair among the 
 teachers. No one studies, no one listens, no one keeps 
 order or remembers anything. If one wishes really to be 
 amused by the suppressed excitement of the class, one must 
 not stand in front of them ; there they restrain themselves. 
 
 No, take up your position behind them and observe their 
 plaits ; you might imagine that they had gained an indepen- 
 dent life — they jump, they dance, they curl and uncurl them- 
 selves. The changes of colour during this extreme restless- 
 ness is comical. All the fiery red, sandy and brown-red, up 
 to black, look as though they were wet or shining v/ith oil, or 
 take a dead colour like coffee grounds. There are locks 
 which are black above and brown underneath, and those of 
 absolute raven black ; there are light ones in every shade of 
 ashen, of yellow, or an ugly mixture of both, with green 
 for a foundation. All these assume the wonderful changes 
 of colour which belong to their years. The braids are as 
 excited as though they were chattering to each other, 
 playing tricks on one another, springing towards each other. 
 The life behind is a perfect reflex of that in front. 
 
 At the first — that is to say, the preliminary — meeting 
 of the Society, Nora was elected president ; Tinka was so 
 accustomed to have all the work put upon her that she knew 
 beforehand that she would be chosen secretary ; she was 
 right, she was chosen unanimously. 
 
 It had this advantage, Nora considered, that she would 
 thus be able to copy the minutes of the proceedings for 
 Frederik. It was true that their earliest determination was 
 that the proceedings should not be made public, but then 
 Tinka was engaged. 
 
 Otherwise they began without written rules, but Frederik 
 wrote from Christiania requiring the most clearly defined 
 ones. He sent a draft. There were fines for non-attend- 
 ance, fines for disregarding the rules therein set down, fines 
 for every other kind of disorder, fines for omitting to vote. 
 But the girls took it more practically than he — the donkey — 
 as Tinka called him on this occasion. Nora and she worked
 
 THE SOCIETY. 175 
 
 out, quite quietly, a new set of rules ; they were discussed at 
 the next meeting amid some disorder ; rules did not appear 
 to be to their taste. 
 
 A great deal of fun was made in the town over the 
 " Society ; " there were some, however, who considered it un- 
 becoming, some thought it dangerous, but when a theatrical 
 company visited the town and its most select representation 
 fell on the same day as a meeting of the Society, and the 
 members, with a few exceptions, were with difficulty persuaded 
 to sacrifice this meeting, it was allowed that a proof had been 
 given of their zeal. No one thought it worth while to raise 
 the question again as regarded the chief representation, 
 they were left in peace. 
 
 Very soon a serious error showed itself in the rules of the 
 Society. Any one might anonymously propose a subject for 
 discussion to the president, and it was decided by vote 
 whether it should be placed on the agenda. 
 
 Thus it was anonymously proposed to discuss " Immor- 
 tality," but this did not obtain a single vote. The proposer was 
 evidently not a member. Another proposal ran, "Ought men 
 to be allowed to wear moustache ? " and this was written in 
 the same hand. It was now suggested that no notice should 
 be taken of any communication which was not laid on the 
 secretary's table during the course of the meeting. It was 
 objected that the proposal in this case would no longer 
 remain anonymous, but they were sufficiently confident in 
 their own adroitness, for it was adopted. 
 
 Although the discussions were absolutely private, it was 
 maintained in the town that one young lady in the course of 
 her lecture had declared that it was most pitiful of men 
 that they could not keep their vows of chastity so well as 
 women. It was then that Dosen composed his famous 
 *' Noj-a, Torn, orapro nobisP 
 
 With this exception it was not certain what the girls dis- 
 cussed, they had agreed to pretend that everything that was 
 said about them was true, a roguish Freemasonry kept 
 this joke going. 
 
 One of those who teased them the most was Consul 
 Engel. He had soon made his peace with the Staff, having 
 sent his apologies through his daughter. Besides this, he 
 had presented Tora with a nest of Japanese boxes, in the 
 smallest of which was a charming pin. In order to make
 
 176 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 everything smooth again, he gave a " Reconciliation Dinner," 
 to which Milla invited several of her friends. An enormous 
 doll had been sent by grande vitesse, which he set up on 
 the table and ceremoniously introduced to the four girls. 
 It was magnificent ; Tinka had put on her stoutest dress, 
 Tora, who was in a wild mood, sat next to Milla. She chat- 
 tered without stopping for a moment, so that Milla had to 
 pinch her under the table to make her be silent, at which 
 Tora laughed as though she were mad. Nora ran to the 
 piano in the middle of dessert, to sing a song which the 
 Consul had never heard. He declared afterwards that he 
 had never amused himself more innocently. His only notion 
 of talking to them was to tease them, his favourite theme 
 was the Society. They laughed at his jokes and kept them 
 up, but they would not give in ; for women are used to hav- 
 ing the things they are fond of held up to contempt. The 
 Society was a new thing in their lives, soon it became some- 
 thing more. But to show this we must return to one who is 
 waiting for us, Anna Rogne did not come to school that 
 Monday ; Milla came up to muster with her heart full of self- 
 reproach. Directly after school she drove round to see her, 
 but Anna was ill ; her aunts came out smiling and told her 
 that she could not be disturbed. The next day Milla came 
 again. She asked if she might not at least be allowed to 
 see the invalid. Anna and she had begun to read Fabiola 
 together, might she not read aloud to her ? '' Little Anna 
 hoped she would excuse her," they said smiling, and Milla 
 went away. Anna was away three weeks, and Milla called 
 two or three times more, but did not see her. After that she 
 gave up the attempt. 
 
 Anna was not ill, she told her aunts openly what was the 
 matter ; she had been deceived and slighted — nay, more than 
 that, she had been robbed. What she meant by this last she 
 would not explain for a long time ; she could not. She must 
 be quite alone. They could hear her the whole day walk- 
 ing about in the attic, and sometimes in the night as well ; 
 they were terribly frightened, but did as she wished. They 
 always told her when they were going to have prayers, but 
 she would never join them; when she noticed their increas- 
 ing astonishment and anxiety, she at last told them that thai 
 had been her greatest loss ; for all that she valued most 
 she had shared with Milla. Not to speak of their mutual
 
 THE SOCIETY. 177 
 
 profession, there was not a prayer, not a hymn, not a favourite 
 passage of Scripture which had not been exchanged between 
 her and her friend, as lovers exchange their betrothal rings, 
 make presents to each other, and kiss each other's portraits. 
 
 She could no longer bear to see, to be present, to hear or 
 think any more about the subject. 
 
 She did not cry, at all events not when any one saw her ; 
 little Anna had a strong will. She looked on what had 
 happened as one foe looks at another. Her feelings did 
 not take the form of pain, but of anger. She hated the 
 others, she pitied herself. The misapprehension she had 
 laboured under, up to the last hour of that last day when 
 she stood before Milla's door and heard the others laughing 
 inside — could anything more absurd be imagined ! What 
 had she not, in utmost seriousness, shared with a girl like 
 that, and the inward strength with which she had credited 
 her ; there were no bounds to her sense of shame when she 
 thought of it, and yet she was obliged to think of it. She 
 forced herself to confess it to her aunts, she forced herself 
 to probe down into the most remote causes ; it became an 
 employment which brought others in its train. She roused 
 herself, began to stir about, to take long lonely wal'ks, and 
 at last to read. At the end of three weeks she returned to 
 school, rather paler than usual and a little thinner, but in all 
 other respects, apparently, just as before. She did not take 
 her old place, but was still friendly with every one, even with 
 Milla. Milla made no further attempts at explanation, 
 though it was not perhaps without her knowledge that 
 Tora did so. Anna listened to her, and asked for a little 
 yellow cotton ; she would return it the next day. She 
 attended all the meetings of the Society most regularly; it was 
 evident that it interested her, but she took no active part. 
 
 Just before Christmas Rendalen was invited, on a sugges- 
 tion of Nora, to tell them something about Henrik Ibsen's 
 " Ghosts." He refused this, but asked leave to speak to them 
 a little on hereditary responsibility ; he considered that in 
 this, when it had been thoroughly worked out and reahsed, 
 were contained several new moral laws — indeed, that a 
 revolution would be caused by it in many things. 
 
 There was great eagerness over this ; they looked forward 
 to a quiet and interesting account, but were given a wild, 
 though stirring lecture. The girls were not less frightened
 
 178 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 by Rendalen's personal agitation than by his words. At 
 the end he shouted out that those who passed on an heri- 
 ditary disease to their children — those, for example, who 
 had frequent insanity in their families, and nevertheless, 
 married ; those who, though weakened by debauchery, 
 brought children into the world ; those who, for the sake of 
 money, married cripples or unhealthy people and endowed 
 their children with these afflictions — were worse than the 
 greatest scoundrels, worse than thieves, forgers, robbers, 
 murderers ; that he would maintain. 
 
 Something must have happened : for several days Fru 
 Rendalen had gone about with red eyes, and he himself had 
 been away, probably to Christiania. Anna came forward 
 and thanked him for his lecture in her own pre^eniieuse 
 manner ; after he had gone, she said it was the best she 
 had heard. Only one person agreed with her, and that 
 was Miss Hall ; the others said nothing, there was a painful 
 silence. At last some one said that the lecture appeared to 
 her to be terribly violent. Little Anna replied that people 
 must be roused, everything was made into an amusement. 
 There was too much of that in the Society itself. This 
 caused still greater discord ; Nora was annoyed, and asked 
 if Anna would not in that case do something to help it. 
 Anna coloured, but to every one's astonishment she 
 replied : " Yes, she would try." 
 
 She disappeared from school for several days ; but she 
 announced that she would give a lecture at the next meet- 
 ing. She wished that Rendalen, Fru Rendalen, and Karl 
 Vangen should hear it ; this was certainly not hiding her 
 light under a bushel, her companions thought. Of course 
 the invited guests came. 
 
 When little Anna arrived she looked overstrung, her 
 hands trembled as her thin fingers turned the pages of her 
 manuscript and arranged the lights on the tribune. Her 
 voice and delivery were measured, sometimes almost sharp ; 
 she did not often raise her large eyes, but when she did so 
 it was with a significance which was most irritating. She 
 read her lecture — the opening was especially pointed : 
 
 " Woman does not labour to improve herself in the same 
 degree that she expects man to do. She does not lay aside 
 the failings which she acquired when in another and worse 
 position. I will this evening mention one fault — lying. In her
 
 THE SOCIETY, 
 
 179 
 
 position as the weaker, woman has accustomed herself to 
 lying, but she is no longer so defenceless as to need this. 
 Thus I consider that in making herself appear so gentle, so 
 pious, so modest, so lovable before strangers, even if only 
 one is present, she lies. It is the same thing when, a 
 straight course being disagreeable to her, she at once takes a 
 crooked one ; she gives a false reason, she makes excuses. 
 If there is anything to be done which has grown distasteful 
 she pleads a headache ; if any one calls whom she does not 
 wish to see, she is " out," though she is sitting in the parlour. 
 It does not disturb her in the least to make her servant, 
 her daughter, or her friend lie for her when she cannot do 
 so herself. 
 
 " Some ladies, possibly a large proportion, have so accus- 
 tomed themselves to giving untrue reasons, or to concealing 
 the real ones, to making up excuses, that they do it without 
 any necessity, they delight in it as in a kind of coquetry. 
 
 "Would this were only in their relations with mankind, 
 but it is the same towards God. I will quote a writer on 
 the subject; he says, 'It is difficult to judge woman's 
 religious faith so long as religion remains her single intel- 
 lectual interest ; but when one sees a hundred, two hundred, 
 three hundred ladies round one fashionable preacher, one 
 suspects mischief. The easiest thing to think of is to 
 allow oneself to be guided by another's words ; it is only a 
 step further to be enthusiastic about the preacher himself, 
 easiest of all to feign an enthusiasm which others feel. 
 
 " ' The faith which has lost its ideals on earth, and therefore 
 transfers them to heaven, is certainly not so secure of a good 
 reception there, as the clergy promise. As a rule, there 
 does not remain much more than a vague need. 
 
 " ' There are besides many women who are very cautious ; 
 it is best to make things safe for them and theirs. I often 
 wonder what our Lord says when they begin.' " 
 
 She quoted further, and many of the quotations aroused 
 laughter. Karl Vangen was especially amused. From this 
 she passed on to woman's share in societies for charitable 
 objects; how the needs of the poor furnished an excuse for 
 gay dances (" the proceeds for the poor," as they say) ; how 
 amusing balls and even theatrical performances are organised 
 in aid of the sufferers from shipwreck or fire. 
 
 She described how a Society such as this trifled with
 
 l8o THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 great questions and raved about particular lecturers, Anna 
 was severe, as young people generally are, when they take 
 upon themselves to criticise. 
 
 When she left the tribune she did not grasp what was 
 said to her ; she answered at cross purposes, or asked them 
 what they had said, but little by little she recovered herself; 
 when she looked for Rendalen he was gone. 
 
 She was utterly astonished ; she slipped across to Fru 
 Rendalen to hear the reason. Of course, she had to begin 
 by asking her what s/ie had thought of it. 
 
 " Yes, my child, there is a great deal of right in what you 
 say, but I fear that you will all inflate it into something to 
 be taken seriously. Poor things, you will learn then to lie 
 to some purpose. Few women can take this seriously, my 
 child, but they can affect to do so and overstrain themselves 
 as well — ah yes, they often become horribly unnatural " 
 
 At last, slowly and cautiously, came Anna's question, 
 "Why did Herr Rendalen go?" 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " She sighed, looked towards the door 
 where he had disappeared, got up, and left the room. 
 
 Karl Vangen was talking to Tora ; he now saw that Anna 
 was disengaged, and came up to her to say that he had been 
 "very much delighted" with some of the quotations; he 
 knew the book. Karl Vangen" had been on the high road to 
 become a fashionable preacher; happily he had escaped, but 
 the terror still remained with him. Anna knew this from 
 her aunts, so she had the secret key to his remarks. He 
 believed entirely in woman's religious convictions, he said, 
 and did not quite agree with her. 
 
 She asked him his opinion in other respects. " I know so 
 little about women in other ways," he said, colouring slightly, 
 " I dare not enter into it." 
 
 As soon as ever the elders were gone, the enthusiasm of 
 the girls broke out. " Little Anna " was the eldest of them, a 
 thing people very easily forgot — she was so undeveloped in 
 appearance. They had never thought her capable of such 
 an effort. " What a remarkable point of view ! how well 
 expressed ! and that by one of ourselves." 
 
 Nora and Tora were especially charmed. "That is just 
 what we are, just as untruthful, principally in little things of 
 course. And how we play with serious questions. We 
 must have deeds as well, or if not deeds, then "
 
 THE SOCIETY. l8l 
 
 " Snufif," said somebody, and the whole party burst into 
 roars of laughter, but they began again : " It is true, Heaven 
 knows it is true. It must be altered, it is shameful to be as 
 we are." 
 
 As a beginning they would all escort Anna home. Yes, 
 they would ! And so they did, and the two crooked old 
 aunts were startled out of their sleep when, between eleven 
 and twelve at night, they heard the swarm buzzing before 
 the house, and the call of " Good-night, good-night, good- 
 night," from twenty ringing girls' voices. And little Anna her- 
 self ! She had to go in and tell them what it was all about, 
 but she merely said they had come home with her. She 
 could not say more just then. She felt so uncertain. She 
 had written this lecture with her heart's blood ; she had 
 turned her bitterest feelings into an assault ; she had felt 
 certain that she would be assailed for it ; hated for it, and lo 
 and behold, she had been thanked for it over and over 
 again ; nothing had been heard but exultation and praise. 
 
 She lay in bed, but could not sleep. Was it from pleasure ? 
 Was it from fear? Or had she been for the first time moved 
 by them ? It was not disagreeable. 
 
 At the same time more than one little head lay pondering 
 what course should be pursued. The impulse to take this 
 seriously, to be terribly truthful, must have nourishment, 
 otherwise it would certainly die. And they found some- 
 thing real to do ! 
 
 Milla was in mourning ; Milla could not go to balls this 
 Christmas. They would none of them go to balls this 
 Christmas either. Yes, laugh if you like, but it was unani- 
 mously determined upon. One does not desert a friend in 
 sorrow : not one of the Staff would go to a dance the whole 
 winter through. Milla felt flattered by so much sympathy 
 but — — " No buts ! " Immovable, unanimous deter- 
 mination. 
 
 And that should not be all, they would think of some- 
 thing more. 
 
 'O 
 
 The young fellows of the town mourned over the loss 
 of so many merry young partners that Christmas, but all 
 unavailingly. Indeed, it pleased the girls that their absence 
 was regretted. 
 
 As has been said, it was not to end here.
 
 l83 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE STEPS. 
 
 This union of the leaders among the girls, this real desire 
 for knowledge and independent thought, even if it had to 
 endure criticism and e^ en a little derision, was still an in- 
 controvertible proof that the school was now on the high 
 road to success. Even if there were derision expressed in 
 the town, there could be no doubt that every one was struck 
 by the decided, and above all intelligent, comprehension 
 which the superiority of the apparatus, experiments, and 
 method aroused in the scholars on subjects which every one 
 understood, and which belonged to the most special needs of 
 life. 
 
 At home the girls overflowed with narrations and desire 
 for information, and constantly asked permission to buy 
 materials for experiments in chemistry and physics, micro- 
 scopes, and historical pictures which illustrated beliefs and 
 habits of hfe through all ages. 
 
 There was no longer any comparison between girls and 
 boys when energy and information were in question. 
 
 This made the lesson hours happy ; the great gatherings 
 for " breakfast" at twelve o'clock were feasts, and the pupils 
 ran down the slope in the afternoon without books, unbur- 
 dened by lessons — free, free, free ! 
 
 But the happiest of them all remained behind, Fru Ren- 
 dalen and Karl Vangen. 
 
 How Fru Rendalen hurried about with her spectacles 
 awry, a habit she had acquired in later years ; it was like 
 meeting a load of hay at hay-harvest, it smells so sweet from 
 such a distance, and one so gladly stands aside to let the 
 mighty, useful, close-packed object pass, Karl Vangen was 
 one constant smile ; he had no time to leave off. He 
 beamed with delight if any one so much as looked towards 
 the school, and would tell, over and over again, all the little 
 incidents which occurred there : they were every one either 
 remarkable or amusing. 
 
 It was only Tomas who was not quite in accord with 
 them, but there never was much " comfort" about him, if by 
 that one understands confidential intercourse, and even
 
 ON THE STEPS. 183 
 
 good temper. He either wanted tall Karl Vangen to " give 
 him a back" out in the garden walks, or even sometimes 
 in the sitting-room, while he jumped over him as one boy 
 jumps over another ; or he walked up and down, up and 
 down, generally whistling, with his hands in his pockets, till 
 it made one giddy to look at him ; or else he would play the 
 piano by the hour together. Sometimes he worked for, and 
 in, the school without intermission ; or read a new book 
 regardless of any interruption ; or he took endless walks or 
 read aloud, and amused himself with the girls as though 
 they were all comrades ; or else he could not bear them, or 
 the school, or anything which belonged to it. 
 
 At such times his mother had to take the literature lesson 
 for him. Miss Hall the chemistry and physics, Nora the 
 singing ; he would not, he could not. 
 
 Then he would come back again, brighter and happier 
 than ever, and do the work of two. His mother put this 
 down as the result of all the years he had lived without 
 regular employment. If they had company he did not 
 appear at all, or else came and carried everything before 
 him, or came and sat silent. If he spoke to any one, it was 
 " Yes, just so," " Quite right." And then he would leave the 
 room and not return. Looked at in a certain way, this 
 showed genius : there was something of a genius about 
 Tomas Rendalen. 
 
 Before he went to America he had "discovered" a 
 history teacher : he was very great at " discoveries." She 
 was called Karen Lote, and taught needlework, writing, and 
 drawing. Rendalen had noticed her acquirements in the 
 different kinds of drawing, and found out that the girl 
 possessed a by no means insignificant knowledge of history. 
 " Extend that into the history of civilisation," he said. He 
 was never tired of giving this advice. "Here at home the 
 history of civilisation is worse than meagre and it is the only 
 one which is worth anything in a school." 
 
 He had then begun to make the large collection of his- 
 torical pictures which the school now possessed, and through 
 these he captivated her interest ; he kept it, while he was 
 abroad, by sending a number of these pictures to her, as well 
 as books and advice ; and he was hardly home again before 
 he undertook the history lessons of the whole school to 
 explain to her what his ideas were; he sought to show
 
 i84 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 development and connection by a clear historical summary 
 accompanied by maps and pictures ; he made it slight for 
 the younger, and more elaborate for the elder ones; only 
 using details as characteristics. He made it one-sided, but 
 there was power and colour in its historical representations. 
 Karen Lote was captivated ; the novelty of his appearance, 
 his opinions, his wonderful talent for teaching, his inimi- 
 table way of making one believe that there was nothing in 
 the world for him beyond what was before him at the 
 moment ; his exquisite taste in dress, his well-ordered person, 
 even the slight odour of delicate scent which always followed 
 him, all gave the girl a deep interest in him. Nothing in 
 the six-and-twenty years of her life had ever in the slightest 
 degree approached it. To think of being helped in her 
 work by him every day 1 The misunderstandings and perse- 
 cutions which he went through, and his sufferings under them, 
 brought her feelings to the pitch of enthusiasm. But she 
 did not trouble any one with it. Then came the time when 
 he became the principal of the school. He would come 
 and listen to her teaching whenever he had a spare moment, 
 share eagerly in it, or go away without saying a word ; 
 remain away for a long time, then come again every day, 
 and take the whole lesson out of her hands; or else walk 
 up and down, up and down, and then remain away 
 again. 
 
 Just before Christmas Karen Lote went to Fru Rendalen, 
 and told her that she could not stay a day longer in the 
 school. If she merely heard Rendalen's step in the passage 
 she trembled ; when he was near she could not relate the 
 simplest occurrence or give an explanation, " But why?" 
 He treated her with the most open contempt ; she burst 
 into tears. "Contempt?" Yes! either he continually 
 interrupted her, took the whole lesson away from her, or 
 else he did not consider her worth correcting, turned his 
 back on her, did not bow, did not come at all. There was 
 no end to her complaints, 
 
 Ffu Rendalen assembled the teachers and laid Froken 
 Lote's complaint before them, convinced that it must be the 
 most extraordinary misunderstanding. But the teacher who 
 had succeeded Froken Lote as drawing niistress assured her 
 that if she had not had a mother to support, she would have 
 left long ago ; she would not have borne his continual
 
 ON THE STEPS. 185 
 
 corrections in the children's hearing ; he was an unbearable 
 tyrant. 
 
 Everything must be done in one particular way, without 
 the least variation. He had made her so nervous that she 
 trembled if she even heard him in the passage. And she 
 cried too. 
 
 The startled Fru Rendalen turned quickly to the others. 
 " What could this mean ? The teachers of languages, her 
 pupils from their childhood, her friends, who through her 
 help had improved themselves abroad, they must speak." 
 They felt sure that Rendalen had not the least idea that he 
 " set people right," and as little that he offended people by 
 interfering, so that the children noticed his immense air of 
 superiority, but all the same it was often very annoying. 
 He was so uncertain both with teachers and children, he 
 never took things twice in the same way, it was always 
 according to his temper. The conclusion which they all 
 came to was that he was most unfit to direct a school. Miss 
 Hall herself, who otherwise had no complaint to make, 
 agreed with this. 
 
 Fru Rendalen implored them, for God's sake, to recon- 
 sider it ; surely they did not wish to ruin the school ; she 
 was much agitated, and said that provisionally she would 
 resume the direction. But they must not let this be known. 
 She broke down with all the violence which was natural to 
 her. The others were frightened, there was a touching 
 scene ; they praised her son, one against the other ; nay, any 
 one who had not heard what had gone before, would have 
 believed that they were all glowing with enthusiasm for him. 
 After all, to form a wonderful plan for a school, according to 
 all the best examples of modern times, and himself to be an 
 exceptional teacher, was something quite different, and a 
 great deal more than to be an able principal. They and 
 his mother soon agreed over this, and consoled themselves 
 with it as well as they could. 
 
 But this school had been the object of Rendalen's life ; if 
 he were to lose this, there would be nothing left for him. 
 From the time that Augusta died, and he learned that it 
 would be better that he should not found a family, the idea 
 of taking his mother's school, and makmg it all that she had 
 dreamed of, but had not accomplished, had been betrothal, 
 marriage, and the foundation of a family to him. He was
 
 1 86 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 proud of it. This gave the intense energy to his early youth, 
 to his work, to his sense of right. It was the object of 
 Karl Vangen's unfailing admiration, the secret text for Fru 
 Rendalen's conversations and letters. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, temptations came, and his unruly 
 nature did not always emerge victorious from them, but each 
 time he was seized with a feeling of shame for his ideal, 
 which amounted to dread — that awful dread which his 
 mother had felt while she bore him under her bosom. She 
 had often described this in vivid colours, but it was nothing 
 compared to what he had gone through ; it had been terrible. 
 This drove him back to his mother's confidence, and made 
 him hold that confidence fast. There was sober earnest 
 between these two, they had a common aim in life. It 
 might have been that he would have cast her, his aim of 
 life, and this dread to the winds, if his passions had concen- 
 trated themselves on, or been seized by, any one person, 
 for there was a wild energy in him which would have made 
 him cling closely to another; but the hereditary restlessness 
 in his nature mingled one impression with another, his dread 
 had time to come between them with ever stronger force, 
 and it became at last the most powerful of all. The aim of 
 life was saved. From the time that he had conquered, a 
 dissatisfied feeling developed itself; it had always been there ; 
 it reminded one of his father's power of imagination, his 
 love of perfection. 
 
 His studies were forced. Never one thing at a time, but 
 one clashing with the other. If the examination subjects 
 had not in such a special degree been necessary for him, he 
 would never have passed one at all; he was ready long 
 before the time with some things, and was as much behind 
 with others. He was always in advance with the subject 
 he was full of at the moment, it was a link in a visible or 
 ideal entirety. To Karl Vangen, who knew his method of 
 study, it was amazing what he accomplished. It was the 
 same thing with his intercourse with his fellow-creatures ; he 
 often seemed to be inattentive, and yet he received original 
 impressions, but they were all on the same lines. He saw 
 images and demonstrations in anything he was engaged in ; 
 not people, but phenomena ; not facts, but ideas. As long as 
 Karen Lote was learning his historical method she interested 
 him deeply, but afterwards not in the least ; it was much
 
 ON THE STEPS. i8; 
 
 the same with the other teachers, excepting Miss Hall ; her 
 teaching was new, and he was eager to see the result of it — 
 first intellectually, then morally. 
 
 But h's own work ? When the long restless rush about 
 the world after appliances and methods was over, after the 
 plans for the school, conceived years ago, and since then 
 endlessly arranged and drafted, were at last set going; 
 especially after the rude resistance from without was over- 
 come, what was it that gradually came over him ? Could 
 he not ? Would he not ? Was it no longer enough for 
 him ? 
 
 Every one round him rejoiced in the school, his mother's 
 delight in especial was touching. " This is the school that 
 I have dreamed of, my son, my dear Tomas ! " He heard 
 it nearly every day, he thanked her and kissed her for it, he 
 needed it; but all the same .... As for teaching, his 
 principal talent, he could interest himself in making a thing 
 absolutely clear, and in having the main points properly 
 remembered, the most difficult ones understood ; it could 
 delight him to give a new view of something to the elder 
 pupils, or to direct their attention to a question of the day. 
 Whenever a problem presented itself, he would take it up 
 with patient ingenuity ; beyond that there was nothing — 
 no, nothing ! He realised his failings thoroughly, self-occu- 
 pied though he was ; they harassed him more and more. 
 There were times when he could not endure the school. 
 Then he felt himself without spirit, without aspiration, with- 
 out — he could almost have said without affection — if 
 his mother had not been there, and Karl as well ; he was 
 deeply attached to Karl. 
 
 This was no longing for a wife and family, at all events in 
 no special degree ; indeed, he felt no particular attraction to 
 anything. 
 
 Was this the cause of his unhappiness — that he could not 
 attach himself firmly to any conditions ? He had been able 
 to do so as a child. 
 
 A man who has deliberated in this way from one day to 
 another, and at last, one evening, receives his mother's tears 
 and lamentations because the teachers can no longer en- 
 dure him as principal, does not start up as at something 
 unexpected. Tomas remained at the piano, where he had 
 been seated when she came in; he touched it with one
 
 l88 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 finger now and then during her long and interrupted narra- 
 tion ; he saw her despair and concealed his own. He felt as 
 though now he had nothing more to do here. 
 
 He observed quietly that perhaps she had better resume 
 the direction of the school for a time ; he went on strumming 
 as he said this, as though it had no further significance. 
 She answered that she had already promised them to do so. 
 He grew as white as a sheet. She hastened to add, that of 
 course only he could superintend his own plan : she begged 
 him to speak to the teachers at once ; he never would speak 
 to any one, they entirely misunderstood him ; he offended 
 them by showing no confidence in them, and he was not 
 always considerate. Did he not like them? 
 
 This was too much for Tomas ; he flung himself down on 
 the piano and cried, got up hastily, put on his hat and coat 
 and went out, heedless of his mother's prayers to him to stay 
 and talk it over with her, as they used to do in old days. 
 He could not do it; for there was something in his 
 mother's behaviour towards him which wounded him. 
 When he had come home she had received him with the 
 greatest admiration, everything he said and did was right ; 
 but after the lecture she began to doubt. This had 
 gradually increased, until now she put a note of interrogation 
 to everything he said. At the first complaint from the 
 teachers she had taken the school from him ; and she could 
 reconcile this with her pride in his way of ordering it, and a 
 crooning quiet delight over its success. 
 
 Not that her doubt was greater than a practical under- 
 standing like hers had perhaps a right to ; he did not blame 
 her for it, but he could not bear it. 
 
 This affair with the teachers was dreadful. He really 
 considered them most excellent, none more so than Karen 
 Lote, otherwise he would never have troubled himself about 
 her. 
 
 There must be something at the very root of his behaviour 
 towards people, which was terribly astray when he could be 
 thus utterly misunderstood. Perhaps his own feeling of 
 emptiness and distaste arose from the same cause. 
 
 These ladies had raved about him. They and the senior 
 class, and .... Was that, too, nothing but a delusion, or 
 was it past and gone ? 
 
 " Raved about him." What is that? He drove it from
 
 ON THE STEPS. 189 
 
 him with contempt, yet once it pleased and deluded him. 
 He had believed it would always continue. 
 
 No, he who would have the affection of others must show 
 affection to them. And he could not do it — in the way 
 that others could. 
 
 After all that was not strange. His race had perhaps 
 exhausted its power of winning human affection. 
 
 Was not that the natural result when generation after 
 generation broke down mankind's precepts of fidelity, and 
 flung aside man's good opinion ? The race itself had been 
 ruined, as each one weakened himself and his offspring — 
 ay, and others and their offspring as well. 
 
 He walked into the country to the left — the same walk 
 that he had taken that spring evening after he had given his 
 lecture. He recalled to his mind how happy had been his 
 return from America, how he had dreamed of giving his 
 countrymen an example which, if they would follow it, 
 would shine throughout the world. What was nobler for a 
 small country than to centre its greatest powers on the 
 teaching of its children, to expend its surplus there ; let the 
 great nations waste theirs on armies ! 
 
 He remembered how it then delighted him to think that 
 in this way the sins of his forefathers might be expiated. 
 
 Everything on earth had been thus developed. 
 
 Awakening had come to the strongest races. Instinc- 
 tively they had felt their failings, and had sought to 
 combat them by an admixture of fresh blood. Everything, 
 therefore, that is strong and good has some family for its 
 progenitor, whose sufferings have been the foundation of its 
 needs, its needs the foundation of its work ; its work, its self- 
 command, the foundation of its discoveries — all gathering 
 round the original discovery. ^Vhen tlie school should be 
 alive with a hundred young creatures ; when sparkling eyes 
 gazed upon the aim which he had set up ; when the elder 
 ones among them, influenced by him, and in their turn 
 influenced others — hoisted their colours — it would be re- 
 membered that they had lived in the house of one particular 
 family, from that family they would have received their 
 instruction. It was /le who had made the school. 
 
 But there lay an inherent weakness in its inmost recesses. 
 The germs of destruction lay in him who had built it up. 
 He could not advance it further. He did not possess the
 
 190 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 necessary long-suffering gentleness. Plenty of foresight, 
 energy, ambition, but — talents for war, perhaps, but not for 
 peace. 
 
 As he had walked along that evening after the lecture, 
 sick at heart, anxious — ah ! how anxious ! because the cer- 
 tainty of years had been baffled, Karl Yangen had trudged 
 silently by his side like a great long-legged dog with honest 
 eyes. He went the same way now, only it was winter, and 
 he was alone ; he was ashamed to have any one with him. 
 The suspicion of insecurity which had shaken him the first 
 time was now a certainty. He could not go on — O God ! 
 he could not : he was a blight in the school. 
 
 The snow in the fields had melted, but farther away it lay 
 in patches, looking ghostly in the moonlight. It still lay 
 thick under the fir-woods ; and here and there on the road, 
 which had frozen hard with deep ruts in it, and small sharp 
 stones and solid horse-dung. Where it was bare, or partly bare, 
 it was difficult to walk. He came back so weary in body 
 and mind that he never remembered to have felt more tired. 
 By the new churchyard, where his father and grandfather lay, 
 and where the sea washed up to the other side of the road- 
 way, rolling and black, he felt that a little might bring him 
 into the one or beyond the other — or perhaps to both — they 
 were not incompatible. 
 
 It was past twelve, as on the night of the lecture; he 
 would not go home before he felt certain that his mother 
 had given up w^aiting for him. Under ordinary circum- 
 stances she went to bed between nine and ten. But as he 
 struggled up the avenue, he saw that there was a light 
 in the sitting-room ; and as he got a little further, that there 
 was one in Karl's room as well. If he had not been so 
 utterly weary he would have turned back, but now things 
 must go as they could. 
 
 His mother met him in the hall with a light in her hand. 
 " Oh, Tomas, how you have frightened me ! " she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 What did she mean by that? He looked at her; poor 
 thing, she appeared at least ten years older, with such red. 
 eyes — so upset, so miserably overdone. 
 
 She began, " Tomas, just let us " 
 
 "No, mother," he waved her away with his hand; " I am 
 so fearfully, oh, so fearfully tired." He went slowly across
 
 ON THE STEPS. 191 
 
 her room to the inner passage without a good-night, without 
 looking round. 
 
 She heard his step in the passage, heard him open the 
 door of his room, shut it, and turn the key on the inside ! 
 It always awakened memories, that dreadful sound ! 
 
 Why did he do it ? It seemed as though he were shutting 
 her away from him. 
 
 As he was lighting his candle he heard Karl at the door 
 between their rooms. Tomas set down the candle^ came out 
 from behind the curtain, and saw Karl's pale, anxious face 
 looking in from the doorway. 
 
 Why had he and his mother sat up, each in their own 
 room? Evidently so that the mother should be able to 
 talk to her son alone when he came in. 
 
 Tomas flung himself on Karl's neck and sobbed violently. 
 All that he had held back, when he saw his mother, now 
 found vent. Karl's firm confidence in him was his chief 
 support. That confidence was there now, he could see it 
 through all his distress precisely as he saw the light stream- 
 ing behind Karl's head and body in the doorway. It was dark 
 between them. " No, dear Karl, not to-night, I am so tired." 
 Slowly, noiselessly, Karl drew his long legs back again and 
 shut the door behind him. The door-handle was turned, oh, 
 so gently. 
 
 Tomas went straight to bed, and slept at once and with- 
 out interruption through the night. When he woke, raised 
 himself and looked at the clock, it was past eight. The 
 sorrows of yesterday, which had at once rushed upon him, 
 yielded before this proof of a long sound sleep. "There can- 
 not possibly be so much the matter as I believed, if I am not 
 worse than this." He jumped up. " There must be some 
 other work in life reserved for me, if this is not to be the one." 
 He dressed himself quickly, and while doing so determined 
 to go away for several days. He wished to consider, and to 
 be calm while he did so. 
 
 This was all the information which his mother received 
 when she came in as he sat at breakfast. He sent a mes- 
 sage to Karl, and left at ten o'clock. This was not altogether 
 disagreeable to Fru Rendalen. " He has such sudden 
 changes," she thought. " He will very likely return home a 
 different man." His great failing, of talking and acting 
 according to the temper of the moment, made her take
 
 192 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 this view, made her question all he said. He was conscious 
 of this now. He hated it. 
 
 This time, however, she was mistaken; he returned exactly 
 the same as he had gone away, only she noticed the first 
 time that she talked to him that he was a little bitter against 
 the teachers : " ungrateful asses," he called them. He had 
 taught them more than it was in the power of any human 
 being to do who had not travelled as he had done, and had 
 his experience and reading ; he would have nothing to do 
 with them. He annoyed them by his elegant courtliness. 
 This amused him ; he was really dreadful with them. He 
 resumed his teaching, with the exception of the singing, which 
 was given over to Nora, who was now both pupil and teacher. 
 He declared that she possessed the gift of teaching in the 
 highest degree. 
 
 " Perhaps he could interest himself in the school again," 
 thought Karl," if there were a new staff of teachers." He spoke 
 of this to Fru Rendalen. She would try to find out, and 
 began by talking to Tomas about the observatory which 
 they had arranged in a small way in the tower. They had 
 been obliged to stop for want of money. By next summer 
 she hoped to have the means to set it going. 
 
 " God knows where I shall be then," he answered, and 
 hurried away. " If I were to speak plainly to the teachers," 
 thought his indefatigable mother, " if I could induce them to 
 beg his pardon." She assembled them one day just before 
 Christmas, and told them, betraying emotion as she did so, 
 that her son had repeatedly let fall remarks which showed 
 that he intended to go away. There was a movement of 
 dismay. 
 
 Froken Lote, on whom all eyes were fixed, at last broke 
 silence. She had not meant it in that way, she had only 
 meant — she had really not meant anything — but she was so 
 dreadfully nervous. She thought he was not pleased with 
 her. The drawing and needle-work mistress, a clear- 
 headed, tall, fair woman, coloured furiously. The Spenser 
 method of drawing which Rendalen had introduced was not 
 clear to begin with, she said, but he was always beyond her; 
 but for all that she ought not to have said anything, indeed 
 she ought not. She began to cry. 
 
 The teachers all protested that they felt the greatest grati- 
 tude ; he had, of course, seen and heard so much on every
 
 ON THE STEPS. 193 
 
 subject, but it was most embarrassing that he treated them 
 Uke dirt beneath his feet. 
 
 Fru Rendalen took ofif her spectacles, wiped them, and 
 put them on again; pulled them off again, rubbed them, and 
 put them on. 
 
 Well then, Miss Hall would say what was the matter. 
 It was that he treated everything and everybody so unevenly. 
 This made the teachers uncertain, and destroyed the chil- 
 dren's sense of justice, and that was almost the greatest loss 
 that a child could sustain. She would so gladly have spoken 
 to Rendalen, said the little American, but he made himself 
 so unapproachable. To-day, too, she felt nervous. 
 
 This destroyed Fru Rendalen's plan ; she did not know 
 what to answer. All further negotiations were meanwhile 
 broken off, 
 
 A loud chorus of joyous girls' voices sounded from the 
 steps, and they all hurried to the window. It was Nora 
 and her pupils. These last few days before Christmas, the 
 pupils had but few lessons to do, and therefore had em- 
 ployed themselves in practising some part songs, the prac- 
 tice always concluding out on the steps — one of Nora's many 
 fancies. 
 
 This gave such immense pleasure, that not only all the 
 little ones, who did not join in the singing, waited up there 
 till the great moment, but people would collect in the 
 avenue. As soon as the girls came racing round the corner 
 in walking dress and mounted the steps, the crowd in 
 the avenue increased and drew nearer; Fru Rendalen and 
 the teachers had put on their things, and were now standing 
 at the open windows. The girls had arranged themselves 
 from top to bottom of the steps ; the little ones, who did not 
 sing, occupied the sides. Right at the bottom stood Nora, 
 with her fair hair turned back under the hood which was 
 always on the back of her neck. 
 
 She had adopted Rendalen's method of conducting— the 
 only thing that restless being did quietly ; he merely moved 
 his right wrist, and gave the sign with his left hand. Nora 
 carefully held her right hand in the same place as he did, 
 before her breast. She heard about it often enough. 
 
 The song sounded grandly from the steps, the notes were 
 powerfully given. It might be, too, that the view before them 
 heightened the effect by its beauty ; perhaps, too, " An Old 
 
 N
 
 194 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Manuscript," * which had just been printed in a Christmas 
 number, and which every third person in the town, from twelve 
 years old knew, at first, second, or third hand, may also have 
 enhanced it, for perhaps those dark voices from the past 
 were heard at the same time, and by the power of contrast 
 made the girls' song brighter and the moment fairer. 
 
 Below them lay the town, with the harbour between the 
 two points of land ; now that winter was here, full of ships 
 from side to side. At the head of the bay, along the clay 
 banks, were all the workshops and the great timber-yards. 
 To the left, the mountain, with the crowd of houses at the 
 top, the boat harbour below, and out beyond the mountain 
 and the town, the islands and the open sea. Weather on 
 the coast is uncertain ; generally, as they looked out, taking 
 in the view as they sang, there were either driving clouds or 
 gleams of sunlight over the landscape, or if it were peaceful 
 and bright inland, it was threatening out to sea. Perhaps 
 this may explain why the girls generally chose melancholy 
 songs. 
 
 For the teachers as well as for the pupils, the singing on 
 the steps, from its first beginning, had been the glory of the 
 school. If the work from every class during every week in 
 the year could have woven itself into a thousand delicate 
 threads, and fallen on them as crowns ; if all the fruitful in- 
 centives, small determinations, uncertain beginnings, could 
 have joined in harmony in those voices, the singing could 
 not have made them happier. As far as the teachers were 
 concerned, perhaps for the very reason that, at the same time, 
 something had occurred to pain them. 
 
 The elder girls, especially the members of the Society, 
 looked upon this time as one for exchange of thought. All 
 those higher ideas which one has in common with others, 
 come to the front when there is singing ; all strivings after the 
 ideal, have a natural relationship to harmonised notes. 
 
 But he who felt it the most was one who had hidden him- 
 self behind a closed window, because he would on no 
 account be seen. 
 
 He saw Nora beating time, standing there in her light 
 cloak, her hood flung back on her neck. 
 
 The song, which sounded out over the town, the one 
 
 * Some paits of it have been used in the Introduction.
 
 ON THE STEPS. 195 
 
 which had first been heard by Fru Engel's grave, contained, 
 as it sounded from these girlish voices, all that he wished 
 for on earth. 
 
 How miserable it made him now ! He tried, as a counter- 
 poise, to remember all that he had conquered before in many 
 a hard struggle. It was something to remember. 
 
 It was not an ordinary victory which he had achieved : was 
 it to end in sorrow ? Would the singing soon cease, or sound 
 again after he was gone ? He thought of his mother. It 
 was he in reality who was " on the steps." Was it to be in 
 or out ? 
 
 The whole troop tore away in merry groups down the 
 avenue. The Staff last of all, for Tora had something 
 either to tell or propose ; they walked slowly, often pausing. 
 Yes, that was what it all depended upon; to be able to 
 share one's joys and sorrows with others.
 
 THE HUNT
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Child or woman, which is she? 
 
 Hard to answer tliat will be. 
 
 Wouldst thou then a woman snare? 
 
 See a child is captive there ! 
 
 And when thou bidd'st the child to stay, , 
 
 A woman from thee flies away. 
 
 Spring had come betimes, and great rejoicing thereat rose, 
 from all the pupils, to the soft skies. 
 
 The spring was in their blood, bringing a restless feeling, 
 a power of invention, glorious plans, subdued noise, effer- 
 vescing spirits in its train ; these were days when the whole 
 school routine threatened to be destroyed, and when orders 
 seemed a mere joke. Much commotion, with scoldings, 
 smacks, increased attention, and many arts were required 
 before this small sphere could be guided through the dan- 
 gerous region of spring without too severe collisions and 
 shocks. 
 
 Even the Society itself was shaken. It was not possible, 
 when the trees in the garden were bursting into leaf, to go 
 off to the back premises and pretend that there was some- 
 thing in a friend's composition on ladies' modern dress. If 
 the meeting had been held in the wood, they might have 
 allowed modern dress to roll about in the heather till it was 
 torn to pieces, or they could have hung it up in a tree. 
 They could have let the birds sing songs over it. Now they 
 gave modern dress to the deuce, it could all be learned from 
 a fashion book; they simply held no meetings. 
 
 Nora employed all her powers of persuasion, all her in- 
 ventive genius, in vain. A great event, however, occurred, 
 also perhaps born of the spring and spring impulses, and the 
 Society recovered itself.
 
 200 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Miss Hall had energetically sought to lay some foundation, 
 in the senior class, for the lectures which she delivered to 
 them on her special subject. Both she and the eldest girls 
 in the class had really all been obliged to exert themselves. 
 But a further result was, that during this hard work, they 
 had gained confidence in the little lady ; everything belong- 
 ing to women's constitution and health, and to the tending 
 of children, was spoken of with perfect openness. The 
 mothers kept up as long as possible an appearance of 
 shamefacedness on behalf of their children, who would not 
 be shamefaced themselves. The fathers helped their better 
 halves in this ; they were bashful to a degree. But as the 
 shameless maidens continued to acquire knowledge, this 
 answered no purpose. 
 
 As concerned the Society, this information, and especially 
 this confidence with Miss Hall, had the result that, by degrees, 
 the woman question began to be looked at in its physical 
 aspect, and its real foundations were sought there. 
 
 A book in our literature was again brought forward, which 
 asserts that the freedom which man allows himself before 
 marriage, and sometimes afterwards, destroys his character 
 and woman's position, carrying faithlessness and tyranny 
 from generation to generation. 
 
 Karen Lote had, in her studies in the history of civilisation, 
 especially noted the history of the development of races. 
 She knew now that the compromise which was often pro- 
 posed, of giving woman the same freedom that man took for 
 himself, would be a step in the wrong direction, an unheard- 
 of breach of development. She advocated strongly that 
 inviolable monogamy should be as sacred for men as for 
 women. Miss Hall took up the subject at the next meeting, 
 from its physical side. Can it be physically proved that 
 man has stronger temptation than woman, and therefore 
 has a greater excuse ? She declared, on the contrary, that 
 woman's temptation might be very much greater. Notwith- 
 standing which, the rule was that woman respected marriage 
 in a chaste life, while for man's part the rule might still be 
 said to be the contrary. 
 
 This aroused violent feeling. 
 
 Man had therefore here as well, used the right of the 
 strongest for his own advantage, but in reality with the re- 
 sult of rendering himself and the community depraved.
 
 THE HUNT. 20I 
 
 Woman, on the contrary, has in civilised society, through 
 hundreds of generations, only belonged to one man, therefore 
 she has an inherited power of remaining faithful. It follows, 
 of course, that man could gain this power as well. 
 
 During the conversation which followed the lecture, the 
 excitement increased ; and in the course of the week so many 
 thoughts had gathered around this subject, that they had to 
 fix an earlier date for the next meeting. 
 
 For the first time since the institution of the Society, 
 Tinka Hansen spoke. The woman who married a man 
 who had led an immoral life, joined herself in his guilt j she 
 condoned the ill-treatment of her sex, and was herself 
 punished for it. 
 
 Did any woman persuade herself that a man who had 
 accustomed himself to such a life would give it up ? At all 
 events, they could not so deceive themselves, who had 
 during the last few years heard a series of lectures which 
 made it plain that habit is a nerve-question ; not more than 
 one in a hundred can conquer a habit of his own free will ; 
 there must, as a rule, be some hard necessity as well. 
 
 Tinka had, as usual, discussed the subject with Frederik ; 
 it was therefore not surprising that, as she stood there, she 
 had the authority of two. 
 
 Rarely had such noise and commotion been heard since 
 the institution of the Society. From all sides came ex- 
 clamations which clearly showed what they felt, such as, 
 
 "Fancy being kissed by a man who ! Fancy being 
 
 married to a man who ! " 
 
 Nora gave voice to these whispered expressions of disgust 
 as she went up to the tribune, and said that they must not 
 separate that evening without promising each other that 
 ^/ley, at least, would do what they could here to give woman 
 responsibility and self-respect. 
 
 She had not finished speaking before they all stood up to 
 express their acquiescence. 
 
 Some days later they had another meeting : something had 
 occurred to divide their opinions. 
 
 It will be remembered that Tora was fond of telling 
 fantastic fairy tales, and romances scarcely less so; her 
 favourite was " A Strange Story," by Bulwer. Her little 
 Augustus head — which was crammed with ideas of rich 
 stuffs, of sweeping garments, of foreign speech, and home
 
 202 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 gossip, and every earthly vanity — delighted in the mys- 
 terious. 
 
 From a certain day none of her friends were allowed to 
 hear a word more on these subjects ; only one, one single 
 one, should henceforth see this obscure side of her varied 
 nature. 
 
 Was it because she wished to share this with but one 
 alone, as girls so often do ; or was there a little sense of 
 mystery here as well, that he was the only one for whom 
 this was suited ? 
 
 Whenever, after this, she met Karl Vangen, whether they 
 were alone, or if twenty were present, she always contrived 
 that they should converse in whispers. Her friends were 
 greatly astonished. What on earth had she to whisper 
 about with the parson ? He had recently lent her a book 
 about John Wesley, which she devoured, as she did all 
 books, and they had many conversations about his sudden 
 conversions. People who came under the spell of his looks, 
 his words, his presence, yielded to them at once, and were 
 his from that moment. John Wesley came of a long race of 
 clergymen, both on his father's and mother's side ; naturally 
 this had in a high degree strengthened his faith and power of 
 preaching. It was like an electric shock, certain natures 
 could not stand against it. 
 
 How this was made to lead up to the Kurts, who inter- 
 ested Tora immensely at that time, is her secret ; but honest 
 Karl began at once to speak with animation of Tomas's 
 struggle to free himself from the Kurt inheritance. There 
 had been an infusion of new blood into the family before, and 
 a struggle against its sins ; but Tomas Rendalen's bringing 
 up, and the struggle he had gone through, were worthy of 
 his energetic character. 
 
 Vangen asked her confidentially if she had not noticed 
 Tomas's neatness, his careful toilette ? If she had perceived 
 the slight, hardly perceptible, odour of a delicate and very 
 expensive scent ? It always followed him. He was always 
 washing and bathing, added the young clergyman, blushing ; 
 most people believed that this arose from vanity, and vain 
 he certainly was ; but could she not guess what it meant ? 
 Tomas Rendalen had gained in the course of his struggle 
 the same need for, the same sacred feeling about, cleanli- 
 ness with which girls are born. For him all cares for the
 
 THE HUNT. 203 
 
 body ; dress, scent, were a species of service for the temple ; 
 just as it is to young women, when they have the means 
 and time to perform it. 
 
 Some remarks of Tomas had made him understand 
 this ; he was certain that such was the fact. But it was 
 curious that it should take that particular form, was it not ? 
 Perhaps it was because he had been brought up among 
 girls. What did she think about it ? Karl Vangen hazarded 
 this conjecture with great bashfulness. For some reason or 
 other, it was of great importance that she should understand 
 at once that a man might be an excellent member of 
 society, without being exactly a dandy, and using scent. 
 
 From that moment Tora Holm had one more person to 
 rave about, added to her rich collection ! 
 
 Now she persuaded herself that she understood Ren- 
 dalen's theory of life and work among them. She did not 
 understand, or rather did not think about, the reasons for his 
 restless moods, his want of steadfastness ; her image of this 
 "energetic" nature was not disturbed by them. She loved 
 him. There was no other word for it. There was nothing 
 that she would not do for him if she could, and it was thus 
 that she expressed herself, first to her dearest friends, then to 
 her next dearest, then to those next to them With un- 
 flagging energy the same story, to the same tune, was re- 
 peated for the twentieth time to the last of her chain of 
 friends before the next day was past. Such enthusiasm was 
 infectious ; those who had not raved about Tomas Ren- 
 dalen before, raved about him now. Notwithstanding the red 
 hair, the freckled skin, broad nose, and pale screwed-up 
 eyes, the absence of eyebrows, the restless expression — he 
 was an ideal man ! He damped their ardour a little when 
 he came into the class-rooms and strode past the forms, 
 without looking at a single one of them ; or when he hastily 
 pitched upon something which interfered with the lesson, 
 with such violence as to make them jump ; for he was not 
 to be trifled with ! He nevertheless became their ideal 
 again as soon as he was gone, or, better still, if he were in 
 the humour for teaching, and stayed and took part in it, in 
 his clear energetic style. He had not his equal then. 
 
 But just because there was but one Tomas Rendalen, it 
 naturally happened that some of the weaker natures began 
 to reflect : " Good heavens, he is only one, and there are so
 
 204 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 many of us." Yes, there was the question. We will not say 
 who they were, or how many there were, who began to feel 
 this doubt. The question is the smallest part of the affair ; 
 it is the answer which is the serious matter. The answer ! 
 For we may as well confess, soon as late, that some of the 
 girls had gone a little beyond themselves that evening, when 
 they all said *' yes " to Tinka Hansen's high-minded views 
 and Nora's proposition. These ones acknowledged after- 
 wards that when one came to think quietly about the 
 one whom one almost loves, or at least would wiUingly be 
 loved by, and even if one knows that he has already .... 
 Yes, the old Kurt town was a terrible place for scandals. 
 
 One at last begins to doubt the sincerity of these expres- 
 sions. Might not the young man in question, no matter 
 what he had done, be depended upon, when he had pro- 
 mised /ler anything? And when she had made him a pro- 
 mise in return, of course he might ! He would be a good 
 boy, that he would, if only she got hold of him. One cannot 
 live upon grand theories. 
 
 There were some, however, who considered that this was 
 treachery ; they were very angry, and a new meeting was 
 called. Those who had dared to change their opinions 
 since the last meeting, were called upon to explain them- 
 selves. For a long time no one would do so, but at last a 
 courageous dark-haired girl declared openly that it seemed 
 to her that they had gone too far the last time. " If all men 
 were — as one could wish them to be — well, then. But they 
 are not so by any means. So what is to be done? That is 
 just how we stand." 
 
 "And so we will stand," was the answer. This heroic 
 response elicited another in its turn, so that two parties were 
 formed, with a third set of moderates ; no one felt certain 
 about these last, as is often the case with a third party. 
 Tinka Hansen (and Frederik) and all who agreed with her 
 and him (" The Frederikers," as they were called), were for 
 absolute equality between the sexes. Infidelity ought 
 from henceforth to be condemned equally severely — no 
 matter whether man or woman were guilty of it. Miss Hall 
 was the only one among the teachers who took part in this 
 debate, and she was a very enthusiastic Frederiker. Accord- 
 ing as our knowledge becomes more acute, she declared, 
 the punishment of unchasteness should be the same for the
 
 THE HUNT. 205 
 
 two sexes. Neither ought this sin to be any longer held up as 
 a special accusation against women. Those who made the 
 distinction that woman's offence injured the home, while 
 man's injured another home, another's wife or daughter, 
 must for very shame hold their tongues. 
 
 Miss- Hall brought this forward at least twice, for 
 there was no answer made to it. The opposite party 
 entirely put that on one side. They repeated over and 
 over again that a man might be excessively worthy even if, 
 things standing as they did at present, he had offended in 
 this particular. Only notorious immorality made a mar- 
 riage impossible. The Frederikers were scandalised at 
 this " hght-minded " talk. That was to open the door to 
 the extension of immorality. They made use of such 
 strong expressions, that the others became angry. There 
 was a perfect hubbub : every one talked, no one would 
 listen. 
 
 This was on a Thursday. The following evening, " The 
 Staff " was assembled in Milla's room. They had begun on 
 the same subject, but by degrees had wandered back to 
 Rendalen, who was still of more unfailing interest than the 
 other. Tinka was imitating Rendalen's handwriting on a 
 large sheet of paper. The others watched her efforts with 
 attention, his large handwriting was just the opposite to his 
 careful toilette; it was all rim together without any division, 
 each letter and each word absolutely joined on to the 
 others. Tinka's caricatured attempts were like so many 
 embroidery patterns. She wrote : " I can bear it no longer ; 
 meet me this evening in the market-place at nine o'clock." 
 She wrote it as a commentary on what they had been talking 
 about — namely, how delightful it would be to receive such a 
 letter. She wrote this closely across a whole sheet of letter- 
 paper. She decorated one sheet after another in this 
 fashion. 
 
 Who was it who first proposed what now followed? 
 They never could agree upon this afterwards. One thing is 
 certain, that Milla alone raised any objection, but it was so 
 feebly and laughingly made, that it might well be taken for 
 the opposite of what it purported to be. Each one of them 
 took charge of a note on Saturday morning ; one was put 
 into Karen Lote's cloak, one into the pocket of the drawing 
 mistress's long faded blue wrap, the third and fourth were
 
 2o5 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 slipped down, one into Miss Hall's mantle, and the other into 
 that of one of the teachers of languages. 
 
 The letters were not signed, the envelopes open and 
 bearing no address ; the request was written in so extravagant 
 a style that the whole might pass for a joke, but that was 
 just where the temptation lay. For, on the other side, it 
 could not be denied that the hasty writing could very easily 
 be mistaken for Rendalen's style when he was worried and 
 was in a hurry to finish. 
 
 At nine o'clock on Saturday evening the last of the worthy 
 townsfolk came home from their romantic evening walks 
 on both sides of the town, looking so peaceful and inoffen- 
 sive that not even a cat could have suspected treachery. 
 Most of them went soberly across the market-place into the 
 town. At this time, too, the boarders who had been out in 
 search of amusement in the town, were returning disap- 
 pointed up the avenue. It had been calculated that if the 
 Staff could join one of these parties, they would be free from 
 suspicion while they watched their snares. Of course they 
 were all four there ; they met several ill-humoured friends 
 from among the boarders a little way down, and joined 
 company with them. 
 
 They arranged it so that they should not cross the market- 
 place till just at the time named. And truly, gracious 
 powers ! At the top of the market-place, just a little to the 
 right of the avenue, at that moment appeared Karen Lote ; 
 no one could mistake her erect figure, her grey cloak, and 
 the feather in her hat. The four had so little expected to 
 to meet her, that if the boarders had not been so sulky and 
 tired, they would have noticed their embarrassment. Could 
 it really be Karen Lote ! 
 
 She turned back to the left ; it was patent to all the 
 world that she had come here to wait for some one. 
 
 They looked from her to each other ; they did not laugh, 
 they did not make a sign — they were frightened. 
 
 But there was a revulsion of feeling when they saw the 
 tall drawing mistress come swinging across, and turn into 
 the avenue. She came quickly towards them ; she had been 
 given an appointment there at the same time. 
 
 Milla crept behind Tora ; Tora would gladly have got 
 behind some one ; they had to find some excuse to account 
 for their laughter. As the drawing mistress passed them.
 
 THE HUNT. 207 
 
 hurried and excited, they had just contrived to push Tinka 
 Hansen into a ditch, which fortunately was dry. 
 
 And now they were eager to spy on the two other traps. 
 They went up into the boarders' rooms, whence they could 
 see out over the courtyard ; they had given Miss Hall a 
 rendezvous behind the gymnasium, but, unless she were 
 standing absolutely still behind it, she had not come. It 
 did not fare much better with their flight across the garden 
 towards the right, where they had given the language teacher 
 rendezvous; they met her, certainly, coming down the path, 
 but it was with several others ; running quickly up from the 
 wood, she never so much as looked round. If she had 
 read the letter, she had taken it as a joke. The four girls 
 slipped through the garden-gate and along the same way ; 
 they did not want to meet Karen Lote again. 
 
 Something, however, had happened a few hours before, 
 wfiich if it had not been stopped would have brought the 
 whole affair to light, in which case not one of the four would 
 ever have set foot in the school again. 
 
 On her return from her walk at about six, Miss Hall, very 
 nervous but very determined, had asked to be allowed to 
 speak to Herr Rendalen. She gave him the letter directly 
 he came in. He took it, read it, held it a little way from 
 him, and began to laugh ; and when she took it seriously, he 
 laughed still more, quite uncontrollably at last. Ten minutes 
 later he received a note from Miss Hall, in which she in- 
 formed him that she should leave by the next steamer. On 
 this he rushed off for his mother, whom he found at last in 
 the cowhouse. He explained the whole matter contemp- 
 tuously to her, declaring that Miss Hall must be mad. Fru 
 Rendalen at once went to her. Miss Hall was greatly 
 exasperated; she cried, and gave confused, hasty explanations, 
 while Fru Rendalen pulled off her spectacles, and rubbed 
 and rubbed them ; she could not comprehend it in the least. 
 Perhaps, if we were to talk English, she thought; but it all 
 remained as obscure as ever. Plainly and shortly, what was 
 she angry about ? Why did she wish to go ? What had 
 happened ? What redress did she demand ? 
 
 She demanded that the culprits should \)& punished. 
 
 Nothing more than that! They both set off to the 
 boarders' room, which was now empty; they began to search 
 through the exercise books, portfolios, bookshelves ; they
 
 2o8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURT5. 
 
 wished to find out who it was who was so abominable as to 
 copy Rendalen's handwriting. From thence they went into 
 the class-rooms. That of the senior class stood just as it 
 had been \eft; for the cleaning day for this room was Thurs- 
 day, and the evening sweeping had not yet been done. 
 There they carefully collected all the bits of paper which 
 had been thrown away, straightened them out, and examined 
 them ; they peeped into exercise books, lesson books, and 
 desks. They must find out who the unhappy person was 
 who imitated Rendalen's handwriting. 
 T/iey all did it ! 
 
 K-s, soon as the fact became clear that every senior girl in 
 the school had been occupied with Rendalen and Rendale7t, 
 and again jRetidalen, Miss Hall gave in ; at last they both 
 left the schoolroom— neither of them said a word to the 
 other. 
 
 Miss Hall never said anything more about it. But Fru 
 Rendalen talked it over with Karl Vangen. His discourse 
 on Monday had for its subject how wrong it was to do to 
 others, what they would not like others to do to them. This 
 was often the case with young people, " who found great 
 pleasure in discovering the weakness and tender points of 
 others, and playing upon them." 
 
 The four dare not look up, but they gave side-glances at 
 the drawing mistress, who chanced that day to be sitting near 
 the laboratory table, facing the others. She rested her long 
 arms on it. Her hand toyed with something standing 
 there, which she looked at intently; but tear after tear rolled 
 down her cheeks, without her making an attempt to dry them. 
 She was quite absent. 
 
 All four girls noticed it, and when at the third recreation 
 she was still inconsolable and cried as much as ever, 
 Nora could bear it no longer, but drew her into one of 
 the rooms, and with her arms round her neck whispered, 
 "Pardon, pardon, pardon :" she did not say for what. 
 
 They gave each other a confidential hug — regret, sym- 
 pathy, shamefacedness all mingled together. The poor 
 girl, whom they had befooled out of her most precious secret, 
 was comforted at last by such boundless repentance, such 
 thorough comprehension, such heartfelt devotion. 
 
 The same day Tora and Tinka heard what Nora had done ; 
 they wanted to do the same, but she forbade them; the poor
 
 THE HUNT. 209 
 
 girl must not on any account know that there was more than 
 one who knew her secret. 
 
 Karen Lote was ill; Rendalen had to take her place, and 
 give some of his work to Miss Hall. All three felt that 
 Karen Lote must not be approached by any one. 
 
 How could they have thought of anything so disgusting 
 as what they had done ! And that, too, in the midst of 
 serious discussions on woman's position, on woman's 
 honour and responsibility. 
 
 Milla would not talk to the others ; at school she held 
 aloof, and when any one went to see her at home, her 
 door was fastened. They all felt as though a storm were 
 brewing. 
 
 That Milla should hold back from them as though fhey 
 were the guilty ones and not she, Nora would not endure ; 
 one day, therefore, they all surrounded her, and asked for an 
 explanation. Milla was offended and tried to get away, but 
 it did no good. She then told them that they had led her 
 into doing what was not right, and she would have nothing 
 more to do with it. The only answer she got was from 
 Nora's great eyes, but she reddened under them. Of course 
 she had taken part in what had been done, she did not deny 
 it ; but she did not wish to feel as ashamed of herself again 
 as she had done during the last few days. The others asked 
 if she thought they had been less ashamed than she ? 
 
 Milla now told them, with a slight air of superiority, that 
 in her first fright at Karl Vangen's discourse, she had asked 
 her father if she might accompany him when he went to the 
 South German Baths. He had consented with great plea- 
 sure. She could not draw back now, they were to start in 
 a few days. 
 
 At first, all the friends felt Milla's coldness in having pro- 
 posed to go away without telling them. But Milla now felt 
 this herself, for she altered her demeanour from that moment, 
 and tried to do away with the impression. It was s/ie now 
 who was most amiable about everything. When the drawing 
 mistress appeared in a very pretty cloak and hat, without 
 any one being able to find out who " the kind friend " was 
 from whom she had received them, it was at once clear to 
 the three friends that ihey came from Milla. She denied 
 it certainly, but that was all the nicer of her. So the short 
 resentment changed on both sides to a closer friendship 
 
 o
 
 2IO THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 during the few days that she still had with them. Her 
 fathei gave a "farewell dinner," the great event at which 
 was the unveiling of a cake, on the top of which four sugar 
 girls held each other with fingerless hands as they danced 
 round a red flag with " Emancipation " on it ; round the plinth 
 was written " The Society." But derision was useless. 
 This same Society gave a farewell entertainment to Milla the 
 next day. All good spirits hovered over this, their last 
 meeting, with its many short speeches, its music and songs 
 — over its whole tone. 
 
 A girl of a serious turn of mind recalled that all the plea- 
 sure that they had had together during their school year 
 had been begun beside Fru Engel's grave ; it was closing 
 with Milk's farewell entertainment. Milla was touched, 
 quite overwhelmed ; she declared that she was altogether 
 unworthy, she did not deserve the kindness which they 
 showed her ; she was not all they thought her. 
 
 Tora came up and embraced her, and they all felt that this 
 was genuine. Tora was grateful for the happiest days of her 
 Ufe ; she whispered this to Milla, which had a good effect. 
 They ended by seeing Milla home ; she took Tora's arm. 
 " Bad times are beginning for me," sobbed Tora. 
 
 *' But 1 shall come back again, Tora." 
 
 Tinka scolded her for her extravagant way of speaking, it 
 was making the whole thing into a caricature and an 
 absurdity; but this was not the first time that Tora had 
 done so. 
 
 When they said good-bye before Milla's door, Tora ran 
 after her up the steps and into the hall ; she was never satis- 
 fied. When inside she took out a box which Milla knew at 
 once — it contained her one ornament ; she had inherited it 
 from her uncle, who had brought it in his youth from 
 California. It was some pieces of rough gold made into a 
 heavy chain, a beautiful piece of work ; she pressed it into 
 Milla's hand ; she had never worn it herself. But Milla would 
 not think of taking it from her, she did not know how she could 
 j\istify herself to her father if she were to do so ; she refused 
 \t decidedly, coldly at last, so that Tora was vexed and ran 
 off. But Milla fetched her in again, held her tightly in her 
 crms, and kissed her. Did she not believe that Milla real- 
 ised what a great thing it was which she wished to do ? But 
 it was a matter of conscience for Milla to say no. They
 
 THE HUNT. 211 
 
 must not part in this way ; Tora should stay with her, she 
 should stay the night there. And it was so settled. When 
 girls are really fond of each other, they love to sleep together. 
 
 The others, who had remained outside, waited a while. As 
 Tora did not rejoin them, they walked on a little way; they 
 were annoyed with her. They all returned, however, and 
 came quietly through the garden-gate and past the office. A 
 little while afterwards the two friends up in the bedroom 
 heard a subdued chorus of girls' voices under the window, 
 led by Tinka's contralto : they sang " Sleep in peace." 
 
 The curtain was half raised ; they saw two figures in white ; 
 two heads — one dark, one fair — looked, nodding and laughing, 
 out. 
 
 The whole school was down at the custom-house the 
 next day; Fru Rendalen, all the teachers, male and female, 
 every one — with the exception of Anna Rogne, who had not 
 been at the meeting the previous day. 
 
 Therewasuniversalcrying,andkissing,and admiration over 
 Milla's travelling dress. The little ones thought they must 
 join in ; they could not cry, but they could kiss. First one 
 little mouth was offered, then two, then five. At last they 
 all insisted on being kissed by Milla, and then sprang back 
 tittering. 
 
 The stewardess had all the vases in the cabin, and some 
 dishes as well, filled with flowers. She really toiled over 
 them. Tora, her eyes red with crying, had come with Milla 
 and Consul Engel, and had been the object of all the latter's 
 attentions, but she now kept quite in the background. Milla 
 had to look for her to press her hand for the last time, to give 
 her a last kiss. As the steamer swung round and left the 
 quay, the slender black figure waved her handkerchief to her 
 friends, her veil, which had become loosened, waving with it. 
 In a moment the whole quay was white ; the little ones in 
 front, the elder ones behind them, all waved their handker- 
 chiefs. From the steamer, it looked like the foam from a 
 waterfall dashing down into the sea.
 
 { 212 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN THE DOVECOTE. 
 
 One morning in the gymnasium, when the senior class was 
 practising rather reluctantly because the weather was splen- 
 did, and two panes were open in the big window that looked 
 towards the mountain, letting the air pour in, laden with the 
 scent of trees and flowers ; — one morning in the gymnasium, 
 just as Miss Hall had joined them, and had, as usual, inter- 
 rupted the ordinary practice by taking away a few of the 
 pupils for special exercises ; — one morning in the gymna- 
 sium, when, as the result of all this, some of the girls had 
 gone over to the window for a moment to give a glance at 
 the hundreds of fruit-trees in full blossom, whose dense 
 masses like an amphitheatre covered the opposite hillside with 
 a single thick crown ; — one morning in the gymnasium, when 
 these same girls could not utilise the moment as fully as 
 they wished, because a number of impertinent young trees 
 had that year shot up in such a marvellous manner, that it 
 was impossible to see the glory of the hillside, except where 
 these young trees allowed it ; nay, worse still, the trees 
 attracted the bees from the hives on the right, and they were 
 more impertinent still, for they buzzed in at the open win- 
 dow, and frightened the girls when they were trying to see 
 out between the trees ; — one morning in the gymnasium, 
 just as all those small labourers in the garden, who in lieu of 
 steel spades, hoes, or forks, use their own small legs, who 
 begin their work at sunrise so as to end betimes, working 
 by no forced contract, but also with no supervision or in- 
 spection, through the whole summer and autumn, they and 
 their wives and children feeding at Fru Rendalen's expense, 
 friends with all, except the cat ; — yes, one morning in the 
 gymnasium, just when all these tiny workers — oh, hundreds 
 of them — gathered from all parts, rising high in the air to 
 settle down again and hide themselves in the bushes 
 in every direction, the girls stood looking on in wonder- 
 ment. 
 
 All at once the trees in the wood bowed their heads, and 
 deeply bowed those to the left, in front of the garden, while 
 sand and seeds whirled up in a menacing cloud ; a sudden
 
 IN THE DOVECOTE. 213 
 
 squall from inland had come over the hill, and without 
 warning drove across from right to left. Almost before it 
 had reached the garden it was no longer the trees, but the 
 wind which possessed the blossom ; every single petal of 
 every opening flower was lifted up, strewn far and wide, and 
 carried away lighter, more lively than the snowflakes, for 
 these are attracted by the earth. Millions and millions of 
 flower wings — a flashing, whirling atmosphere, as of white 
 butterflies, through which patches of green appeared like 
 islands in a sea of cloud, like islets in a mirage. 
 
 The girls screamed with delight, shouted, and clapped 
 their hands, all exclaiming as this marvel was driven gleam- 
 ing across the garden. 
 
 From the wood came a darker shower in pursuit of it, fol- 
 lowing the same course ; it soon reached the place where the 
 glittering petals had passed ; its track was narrower, but its 
 rush heavier and more rapid. 
 
 The girls rushed towards the great door, which was half 
 open ; they wanted to follow the bright moving mass, the 
 fugitives from the fruit-trees. They forgot that they were in 
 gymnasium dress — besides, at the back of the house it did not 
 matter; they screamed, they jumped. Just then the door was 
 pushed right open from outside ; on the steps stood a young 
 man in white trousers and a naval uniform coat and cap. 
 He laughed and bowed, he bowed and laughed. It was 
 Niels Fiirst. 
 
 Behind him, down in the courtyard, stood Kaja Grondal, 
 who wore a light hat and carried a violet parasol. She 
 looked remarkably smart. She laughed too. 
 
 "Is not Elisa here?" asked Fiirst. No one in either of 
 the senior classes was called Elisa, no one knew any Elisa 
 in the whole school. " No, not Elisa," he said ; " Olava ! ' 
 There was no Olava in either of the classes. " Olava? " No 
 one knew any Olava in the whole school. He was 
 sure that they all took it for a joke. He looked at them 
 in their gymnasium dress, turning from one to another. He 
 had both hands full of flowers, he had to put the ones he 
 held in his right hand against his breast and press them 
 with his left arm when he wanted to raise his cap. Fru 
 Grondal was carrying flowers as well ; they had evidently just 
 bought them, and having heard that the senior classes were 
 at the gymnasium at that moment, he had wished to see
 
 214 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 them. " Pardon," he said ; " perhaps she was called Petrea, 
 or it may be that she was not here at all. He raised his 
 cap, his light curls seemed to laugh with him, and the girls 
 all laughed till the walls of the gymnasium re-echoed. He 
 sprang down. Fru Grondal turned and went with him ; as 
 they passed round the corner he nodded back at them. 
 
 The laughter of the girls sounded round and round the lofty 
 building. They were most of them in a state of excitement, 
 they kept running to each other, asking questions without 
 waiting for an answer; if three of them were standing in a 
 group, others joined them ; if some, were laughing more than 
 the others, they all rushed in that direction. Two began to 
 dispute, and the dispute increased; one or two more joined in, 
 then several others, all of them at last : the dispute was about 
 the disturber of the dovecote who had been at the door. 
 
 Tinka was one of those who was disputing. She was 
 simply shocked at his shamelessness ; she looked round for 
 supporters. She thus caught sight of Tora, who was sitting 
 on a bench by the door, as white as a sheet. Miss Hall was 
 attending to her. Tinka sprang across, calling as she did 
 so, " What is the matter ? " " What has happened ? " Tora 
 had continued her gymnastics by herself, for she had become 
 an enthusiastic gymnast, and pursued a special system. As 
 she was at the height of her practising, she caught sight, 
 through the half-open door, of a pair of little birds which 
 were flitting backwards and forwards about a bush. Was 
 any one under the bush ? Had they a nest there ? Was it 
 only their usual antics ? Then she saw Kaja Grondal's light 
 dress come between her and the bush, a large bouquet and a 
 parasol instead of the birds ; a young man in naval uniform, 
 with his hands full of flowers. She did not know him. Kaja 
 just then caught sight of her, and either Tora imagined it or 
 she really did say, "There she is!" The ofiicer looked at Tora 
 and kept his eyes intently fixed on hers, his eyes both laughed 
 and stabbed. Kaja Grondal tried to hold him back and 
 then fell behind, but he kept advancing, did not even stop 
 at the steps, but came up them and still on, without removing 
 his eyes a single moment from hers. She could not move. 
 The noise by the window, the squall, which lifted Fru 
 Grondal's veil and threatened to turn her parasol inside out, 
 the waving of the bushes, the whistling in the trees ; she saw 
 she heard, but as if at a great distance. She could not
 
 IN THE DOVECOT. 215 
 
 properly understand it, she could not put it together ; a 
 strange weakness came over her, especially in her knees — 
 they would not support her. 
 
 Just then the girls screamed out, and the whole group 
 flew by to the door, while he pushed it quite open with his 
 foot. She felt as though she were breathing fresh air, as 
 though some one were supporting her trembling limbs ; but 
 so long as he stood there she could not go away, although 
 she longed to do so ; she mus^ stay. 
 
 It was not until after he had gone that she tried to find 
 the bench, and only when she sat down did she begin to feel 
 ill. She tried to struggle against the feeling; Miss Hall 
 came to her, and now Tinka as well ; and when Tinka asked 
 what it was, firmly and decidedly, it helped her — she was able 
 to cry. The others came running up, but they became quiet 
 at the sight of the deadly white face. They did not ask a 
 single question. 
 
 "She has been doing her gymnastics too violently," 
 whispered Miss Hall. 
 
 " She does everything so energetically," added Nora 
 kindly, sitting down beside Tora, and drawing her head 
 towards her. 
 
 The others went away ; Miss Hall asked them to do so. 
 One could hear in the little room, where they changed their 
 dress, the sound of their returning merriment — one heard 
 them go away, group after group. Although the dinner-bell 
 was ringing, Tora sat there, with Tinka on one side and 
 Nora on the other, and Miss Hall in front of them. Tora 
 had spoken to them several times, and assured them that 
 she was well again now. They all three believed that she 
 had worked too hard at her gymnastics — she believed so 
 herself; but she said, " Oh, what an ugly, horrid man !" 
 
 The others looked at each other : " Do you mean N'els 
 Fiirst ? " 
 
 She did not answer at first : " So that was Niels 
 Fiirst ? " 
 
 A little time afterwards she shivered as if from cold, but 
 she did not give any further explanation. She understood 
 what had happened so far as that the gymnastics had been 
 the cause of it. That, being weakened, he had had a 
 singular influence upon her. She would not say a word 
 about it.
 
 2i6 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Miss Hall now went away. The two others sat there 
 still : Tora asked them to do so. It was so nice to hold 
 their hands. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS. 
 
 By the next day Tora had heard that Niels Fiirst said she 
 was " out and away the handsomest girl he had seen in Nor- 
 way." She would not believe it at first, but she heard it on all 
 sides during the next few days. The next time she met 
 Kaja Grondal she told her the same thing. Tora knew her 
 through Milla, and always spoke to her. She had so far 
 recovered her usual flippancy that she answered that, " If 
 Lieutenant Fiirst had not such bad taste, it would have been 
 embarrassing for the rest of the Norwegian girls." 
 
 The summer came in with great heat ; every one who could, 
 went into the country, to different places on the coast, or up 
 to the houses on the mountains. As soon as ever the school 
 closed they were off; only a few of the poorer ones remained 
 behind, and Tora among them. Nora went to the Baths 
 with her mother; Tinka's relations were well to do, and had 
 a country house. Anna Rogne was in the town; with 
 Rendalen's help she was preparing herself for the post of 
 history teacher in place of Karen Lote, who was leaving the 
 school. But Anna was not easy of access, more especially 
 for Tora, on account of her friendship with Milla. Even 
 when, for all that, Tora did go to see her, she found her so 
 occupied and anxious (she was to take the junior classes after 
 the holidays) that Tora became tired of her. Tora was now 
 again living down at the Point with her mother (her father 
 was never mentioned), where she shared an attic wilh two of 
 her sisters. She lived in a hurry-skurry and disorder, and 
 had a feeling of self-reproach and disgust for herself, which 
 she shook off whenever she could cross the ferry and run 
 up into the wood above " The Estate," or along the road 
 to the right from the market-place, to the " Groves." 
 This was a pleasure-ground in the wood near the road, a 
 large open space with a number of small " groves" — that is to
 
 SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS. 217 
 
 say, levelled patches, sometimes with benches and tables ; an 
 elaborale network of paths went in and out among them. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon she wished to go there to listen to 
 the band, but on the way to the Frokener Jensens, where she 
 was going to try to get a companion, she met Kaja Grondal ; 
 she had come into the town to meet her husband, but he 
 had not arrived. "Would not Tora comeback with her 
 instead ? The steamer left in an hour's time." 
 
 Tora had a great weakness for invitations. Within the 
 hour she was back again with a large hat-box, in which she 
 had put her night-things and a white dress. 
 
 The next morning, Sunday, she was standing on the 
 terrace before the Grondals' little country house. On her 
 right were all the flowers from the house, which had just been 
 brought out to have the benefit of the rain — as yet it was only 
 wet fog ; behind the garden, on the right, it was drifting among 
 the fir-woods ; she could see the nearest trees and a little of 
 the bare hillside lower down towards the sea, a faintly 
 gleaming strip of which, was also to be seen. The fog lay 
 very low, there was not a breath of wind. She could hear 
 the steamer, which had just whistled, away to the left where 
 the pier was; now she could see her passing quickly — a vague 
 outline, a thicker, darker, moving cloud — through the white 
 fog. She did not concern herself further about her, but 
 looked towards the path which led up from the landing-place 
 between this garden and the next. Just opposite was a low 
 yellow railing, a very handsome one, of cast-iron ; behind 
 it, some old trees in a garden blotted out by the fog ; there, 
 she knew, stood several houses which she could not see 
 from here. One of them was the Wingaards', where there 
 was to be a party to-day. 
 
 Who would she meet there ? She stood and thought 
 about it. Fru Wingaard had been a Fiirst ; would Niels 
 Fiirst be there? She stood thinking. He was in the 
 reserve fleet, which was lying in the Channel. 
 
 Why should he not come ? It was Sunday ; why should 
 he not bring several of the officers with him ? 
 
 If Tora had known this before she went on board the 
 steamer yesterday, would she have come? She asked 
 herself the question to-day. Directly she had heard it she 
 had felt a trembling sensation, she felt it at times again to- 
 day ; but the disagreeable feeling was gone, oddly enough,
 
 2i8 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 she thought. Did she really wish to meet him ? She did 
 not want to be disturbed by him — no, nor yet to be looked 
 at as she had been before. But to see him, to be seen by 
 him, if it should so chance? Yes, she did wish that — she 
 wished it very much. 
 
 When she went along the terrace, to the steps which 
 led up from the left, she could see quite into the 
 sitting-room, and also, in a looking-glass, whether the door 
 of the inner room, where Fru Grondal slept, was open. No, 
 it was st'/U shut ; so she went back to where she had been 
 before. 
 
 She could still follow the steamer — that is to say, a dark 
 moving cloud among the fog which hung on every side. The 
 balustrade of the terrace was wet; she dried her hands, 
 forgot, and put them on it again. 
 
 She need not have brought the white dress; it was fine 
 rain now. The birds enjoyed the damp, they were singing 
 all round her. Trees, flowers, and grass enjoyed it too. 
 
 She noticed their different scents; one of these carried 
 her thoughts far, far away to a country house near Havre, 
 close by the sea ; clear blue air, ships, steamers, a long strip 
 of sand, the laxy wash of the waves upon it ; close to the sea 
 a country house, low and grey ; there they lived. The narrow 
 gate into the garden was open ; she stood there on a 
 stone bench, in a short frock and with bare arms ; she 
 could see herself in the long striped stockings which she had 
 admired so much the first time she put them on ; she 
 peered over the hedge, and the scent of the flowers was 
 wafted to her again and again, just as it was now. It was 
 nearly evening, her uncle would be coming from the town. 
 The path through the gloomy orchard was gravelled — she 
 heard his step. 
 
 Here to the left, in the fine rain, she saw an immense 
 umbrella and white trousers below it. It was not raised 
 enough for her to see who was coming ; even now, when the 
 garden-gate had to be opened, it was not lifted, it was only 
 held more forward ; but she knew now that the step on the 
 gravel was coming, not towards the country house at Havre, 
 but here; it was not her uncle, but ? 
 
 The umbrella was raised, its owner stood inside the 
 garden. A dark coat, a straw hat, and a very puzzled face 
 were seen; she felt something of the uneasiness from which
 
 SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS. 219 
 
 she had thought herself free, but as he looked at her it 
 passed off; just the reverse of what had occurred the last 
 time. 
 
 He had evidently not expected to see a dark lady on the 
 terrace, perhaps no one at all, so early in the day. But it 
 was by no means disagreeable to him ; he smiled and raised 
 his hat, there was nothing in his eyes to-day which hurt her. 
 He paused at the steps, the umbrella lay on his right 
 shoulder while he laid his left arm on the balustrade and 
 leaned against it. That was a well-formed hand with the 
 signet ring on it. He was slight and active ; his head was 
 noticeable for three things : a nervous sensuous mouth, which 
 was constantly moving, the lips twitching backwards and 
 forwards, in and out, as though moved by a string — the lips 
 themselves being short and full ; a pair of large eyes, roguish 
 and gentle, though they stabbed when he put his head a 
 little backward and half shut them ; excessively curly hair 
 of a golden colour, and long reddish whiskers. As he 
 leaned over the balustrade, there was a repose about him full 
 of careless enjoyment. But this mood was not to be de- 
 pended upon, nor would one readily do so, for there was 
 something in the head, body, and hands which, behind tlie 
 gentle, lazy, pliable manner, reminded one of a cat. 
 
 Tora both felt and saw this, but to-day it was with more 
 curiosity than fear. 
 
 " What an unexpected pleasure to meet you here ; have 
 you been here long ? " 
 
 " I came here yesterday evening with Fru Grondal ; she 
 was in the town." 
 
 " Was she, indeed ? " 
 
 And the two slipped into a conversation about the journey 
 here, the weather, the place, without having been introduced 
 to each other — a conversation without any other object than 
 to have an excuse for looking at one another. The conversa- 
 tion was in short, disjointed sentences, without colour or 
 calculation, except in so far that the last remark never re- 
 mained the last. 
 
 He stood below and studied her with growing pleasure ; 
 the shape of her head, her features, her manners and expres- 
 sion. The eyes really shone under the long thick lashes — 
 
 what colour were they ? They looked black, but And 
 
 her figure ! her neck, arms, complexion, her dark hair, her
 
 220 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 dress; he put himself quite on one side, he was entirely 
 occupied with her. How long this continued, they neither 
 of them knew — it was a considerable time ; he did not wish 
 to disturb himself, she did not wish to disturb him. She 
 saw herself in a living mirror, but the pleasure was not an 
 innocent one, for by degrees it made her feel giddy. She 
 collected herself and broke off the conversation ; walked 
 across the terrace to som.e flowers, and occupied herself with 
 their petals, among which she made havoc. He came slowly , 
 up, with his umbrella over his shoulder, drawing his left hand 
 along the balustrade. 
 
 " Of course you are going to my sister's this afternoon ? " 
 " Fru Grondal will get an invitation for me," she said. 
 *' Of course; we shall have some dancing — will you give 
 me the first waltz ? " 
 
 She did not look up. "Will you not dance the first waltz 
 with me ? " 
 
 She felt through her whole being that she ought not to 
 answer him. " I beg your pardon, I forgot that we had not 
 been introduced; but as you know who my sister is, you 
 must have some idea who I am." 
 
 He smiled and came nearer, always with the big umbrella, 
 and with his left hand gliding along the balustrade. She 
 raised herself, but did not answer. " So there is some agree- 
 ment about the first waltz? " He said it a little carelessly, in 
 rather a patronising way, almost as though he were offended. 
 He put down the umbrella and turned towards the entrance. 
 "Of course Fru Grondal is at home." He went in. Tora 
 was about to add, " But she is not up." But that would look 
 rather like asking him to stay here. Besides, Fru Grondal 
 must be so nearly dressed that she could warn him off 
 herself, when she heard him in the sitting-room. 
 
 He went in there, but did not come out again. Had Fru 
 Grondal gone there? No, there was no talking. She went 
 towards the steps and looked into the mirror; the bedroom 
 door was wide open. 
 
 Down the steps she flew, and through the garden, away 
 into the wood, out of it again, for it was too wet; and out on 
 to the mountain towards the sea, under the lee of the 
 wood ; there she sat down on a large stone. She was 
 trembling ; her breast heaved as though it would burst. 
 *'Froken Holml" called Fru Grondal; " Froken Holm!"
 
 SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS. 221 
 
 She really was dressed, then. That call must be either from 
 the terrace or the garden. Perhaps Fru Grondal had been 
 out when he went into the sitting-room, that was why there 
 had been no talking. Tora could not collect herself suffi- 
 ciently to answer Fru Grondal, and as she had not answered 
 the first time, it seemed to her that she must disregard the 
 other calls as well. Very soon she heard no more. 
 
 What time was it ? Could he have come to make a call 
 on a lady at that early hour? And to come straight from 
 the landing-place, not to his sister's, but to Fru Grondal's. 
 What was the time ? But she had not her watch with her, 
 she had forgotten it. 
 
 There were the white trousers coming up the hill towards 
 her, and the umbrella as well ! She was pursued and dis- 
 covered. " Dear me, did you not hear Fru Grondal call 
 you ? " Tora did not answer. " And you are so wet — with- 
 out an umbrella too ; pray come under mine. Why did you 
 run away ? " No answer. " Fru Grondal has been making 
 egg-flip for us the whole morning." 
 
 " Has she really ? " 
 
 "Yes, really; her husband was to have been here this 
 morning, and he owes me some egg-flip. But he has not 
 come." 
 
 ** What time is it?" 
 
 " What on earth do you want to know for? It is just 
 eleven." 
 
 "Just eleven?" 
 
 " Yes, see for yourself." He held out a massive American 
 gold watch towards her, opening the case as he did so. She 
 was silent and walked on. As they approached the garden, 
 she asked him how he had found her so quickly. Why^ he had 
 seen her footprint in the sand here, and he had drawn his 
 own conclusion. No one would go into the wood when it 
 was so wet, so she must be on the hill. 
 
 They eat egg-flip together very merrily ; but an hour later 
 Tora was sitting alone in her room, in the attics — she had fast- 
 ened the door ; and at six o'clock the same evening, as the 
 guests were assembling at the Wingaards', she was on board 
 the steamer, which was returning to the town. 
 
 What had happened ? Nothing ! Absolutely nothing 1 
 But like the fog over the landscape, which still hung there, 
 although not so low as in the morning, there lay some-
 
 222 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 thing over all this, which was vague and puzzling to her. 
 She could not bear to be with Fiirst and Fru Grondal. 
 She could not be natural with them ; everything she said or 
 did seemed preposterous. 
 
 She did not, therefore, venture to go to the party; the 
 mere thought of waltzing with Fiirst made her tremble. • 
 
 It would not do. There was nothing for it but to fly. 
 She made herself appear terribly foolish, in trying to find 
 reasons for her flight ; such a one as that she had crumpled 
 her white dress in her hat-box, could be answered by a hot 
 iron ; that her mother expected her, presupposed a letter 
 by carrier pigeon. 
 
 All the same, here she was on board the steamer. It was 
 really an achievement. She was delighted. The rest of 
 the passengers were up on the bridge, or in the deck cabin ; 
 the windows were open. She went forward where there 
 were two or three work-people. She sat down a long way 
 from them. It thoroughly delighted her when the steamer 
 swept pass the islets at the entrance ; it seemed as though 
 she were leaving something oppressive. 
 
 The evening was fine, notwithstanding the fog ; it was mild, 
 and the rain had ceased. The islands among which they 
 steamed stood out clear, their many tinted hills, the green 
 patches of grass, the gardens and houses — for almost all were 
 inhabited — were seen with unusual distinctness, as well as 
 the people who sat or stood about, and watched the steamer 
 as she passed. Tora thought she would like to live in such 
 a place ; she made a day-dream that she did so ; she sat 
 there and arranged her house according to her taste, — this 
 time with great simplicity, that soothed her after what she 
 had left. 
 
 All at once the discomfort began again, a feeling of de- 
 pression, the old sense of insecurity— only a recollection, of 
 course, she thought, and drew a long breath, but she felt im- 
 pelled to turn round and look behind her. 
 
 There he stood on the deck, four or five steps away 
 from her. He bowed and smiled. Deadly white, then 
 crimson, she turned angrily away. 
 
 " Come, you must not be angry with me ; I would rather 
 go back to the town with you, than dance till five o'clock in 
 the morning. Is that so strange ? I am not so contempt- 
 ible for that, am I ? "
 
 SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS. 223 
 
 He sat down behind her ; she knew it, and moved a Httle 
 way from him. 
 
 " Why do you do that now? Of course it is only to talk 
 to you that I have come with you ; you can see that." 
 
 A feehng of both shame and fear came over her ; she was 
 alone now, separated from all the others. She felt as though 
 she could have called to them by name. Whenever Tora 
 felt how solitary she was, she began to cry. 
 
 He noticed it, and in quite another tone of voice he said, 
 " Dear Froken Holm, you must not misunderstand me ; 1 do 
 not want to annoy you, anything rather than that. It would 
 give me great pleasure to talk to you, I confess ; may I not 
 be allowed to do so? Why may 1 not?" She did not 
 answer, but she ceased crying. 
 
 He slipped into conversation on indifferent topics, and 
 calmed her, lamenting that they had not become acquainted 
 earlier. " The first time I saw you I said to myself — well, 
 no matter what I said, but I had just a little wish to see you 
 again ; it was fulfilled quite unexpectedly to-day ; but we 
 did not have any conversation, you were so strange ; why was 
 that ? Well perhaps you were not strange, but why did you 
 go away ? I might imagine that I was to blame for that. 
 You certainly did not want to go before I came — eh ? You 
 have made me quite curious, I assure you. If I really 
 did drive you away, I should like to hear what I frightened 
 you with ; was it with the big umbrella — by chance ? Ah, 
 now you are laughing ! But why will you insist in travelling 
 about /^r /(??//, Froken? Just tell me that." He moved a 
 little nearer, and she remained sitting ; he chatted and joked 
 without any pause. She once turned half round to look at 
 his roguish face, and then she laughed with him. He was 
 very amusing. 
 
 Close by one of the numerous stopping-places was a red 
 house, where a number of young people were gathered round 
 j;ome gymnastic apparatus. A young man and a young 
 woman each held a rope in a " giant's strides." He set off 
 after her with all his strength ; a few steps on the ground, 
 and then a long swing in the air; then again a few steps, and 
 another long swing. Would he reach her? Never! She 
 was the lighten the more active, and she had undoubtedly 
 stronger legs— she ran trip, trip, trip, trip; her legs hardly 
 seemed to be apart, and how she flew swinging through the
 
 224 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 air ! Her hair, her dress streaming after her, a very Iris ! 
 Both Fiirst and Tora followed this chase, silent but eager. 
 Tora felt his presence at her back, like fire ; he had come 
 nearer ; and, turning abruptly, she went into the cabin and sat 
 down among the others. He was standing on the landing- 
 place when she went on shore at the Point ; he offered her 
 his hand, but she turned away ; he wanted to carry her box, 
 but she ran oft". He went on board again to go up into the 
 harbour. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE HUNT. 
 
 Tora reached home about the same time as her father, who 
 had been out sailing with some friends. He was helped on 
 shore, and his reception at home was warm. The children 
 fled, Tora locked herself into the attic, and dare not even 
 go down to supper, although she was hungry. She had to 
 open the door at last for her sisters ; she soon began to 
 quarrel with them, they had been wearing her best shoes and 
 had almost spoiled them. It ended in one of them flinging 
 the shoes at her, and they came to blows over it. Com- 
 plaints followed, which brought the angry mother upstairs. 
 Tora cried herself to sleep like a child. 
 
 The next day she tried to help her mother in the house, 
 not without some hard words and sarcasms about such fine 
 elegant ladies only being in the way. Still she set her will 
 to the task of being a help to her mother, especially in 
 mending the clothes. She gave what she could from her 
 little annuity, so that they were on fairly friendly terms ; but 
 it seemed to Tora that she had a right to have some time to 
 herself. A little while before supper, she would take the 
 ferry across to the other side and go up either into the 
 wood above *' The Estate " or into the " Groves." There 
 was no peace at home. Whether she went to the wood oi 
 "The Estate," she always landed at Bommen, and went up 
 that way, though it was not exactly the most direct one ; but 
 she did not know a prettier place in the town than the
 
 THE HUNT. 225 
 
 house in the large garden there, so she gave herseJf the 
 pleasure of looking at it every day. 
 
 Both house and garden had belonged to the Wingaard 
 family, but they had exchanged them for the Fiirsts' house 
 in the market-place, where the Wingaards carried on the 
 Fiirst business. The brother-in-law, Niels Fiirst, therefore 
 now owned the house in the large garden at Bommen. 
 
 Tora passed it with a little apprehension, although the 
 man she dreaded was certainly not there, but on board his 
 ship. This became a change and occupation, and formed, 
 as it were, an incident in her walk. 
 
 Every time it was over, she went more carelessly up to the 
 wood, or out to the " Groves." In a little Norwegian town like 
 this, all the girls go about as they like. She met others and 
 joined them, or went on by herself; generally she wished to 
 be alone for an hour or two; she went, as a rule, to some 
 particular spot, and when there took out her book, if she 
 had one, or else she wove day-dreams without the aid of 
 books. Or else, and this was now almost always the case, 
 she wrote long letters, one every day, about any curious 
 experience. She had her portfolio with her and an ink 
 bottle in her pocket ; she lay on the grass with the portfolio 
 on a stone, or she sat on a stone with the portfolio spread 
 out on her lap and the ink-bottle by her side. That did 
 splendidly : true open-air letters, where the words seemed to 
 fly before the wind, and every varying thought found ready 
 utterance. And how delightful it was in the thicket, just 
 dappled by the sunbeams, enlivened by the twittering of the 
 birds, a little startled by the rustle of a squirrel in the 
 boughs ! The distant sounds from the harbour, from the 
 works by the river-bank, the voices in the " Groves " and 
 on the road, with every now and then a strain of music, only 
 made the silence of the place where she was sitting the 
 deeper. This was her one bit of summer poetry. As soon 
 as she opened her eyes in the morning, she began to long for 
 it; the noise and quarrelling in the house passed by her as 
 though they did not concern her — it was here that she lived. 
 Her great expedition to Fru Grondal, and her remarkable 
 return home in the steamer, were of course recorded up here 
 in letters to Milla, Nora, and Tinka ; on the fourth day, she 
 read over the work of the three previous ones ; she was very 
 pleased, she knew she had successfully varied the theme. 
 
 p
 
 226 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 She became, however, somewhat thoughtful as she read the 
 first letter, for she remembered the others, and the differ- 
 ence had become by degrees too great. If the girls were 
 by chance to compare them, one of those tiresome scenes 
 might easily result when she would have to pay the reckon- 
 ing. No, she would have no more of that. In the first 
 letter she had treated the matter seriously, described her 
 confusion, her blunders, her fright; no one who read it could 
 doubt that she had been with a person of whom she had 
 been frightened. In the second letter she made fun of her- 
 self, of him, and the whole affair. In the third, she 
 described how a maiden with dark hair was wandering on a 
 foreign strand, when a merman rose from the sea who had 
 fair whiskers and curly hair. In her terror, the dark maiden 
 fled on board a ship, to return to her own country. But the 
 merman swam after the ship the whole way, with his hand 
 on his heart ; when she got to land he gave a wail of sorrow, 
 she heard it still in her dreams at night. 
 
 She tore up all the letters, and did not write any others. 
 
 Still she continued her walks. She had not the slightest 
 idea that Niels Fiirst had returned to the town, that a friend 
 had taken his duty for him, and that he was quietly studying 
 languages to prepare himself for a new career, more brilliant 
 than his earlier one, and that he was living in his own 
 house. Still less did she know thit on the first day of his 
 return to the town he had seen her, in the looking-glass 
 fixed outside his window, look shyly across at the house as 
 she passed, and that he saw the same thing happen the next 
 day. He knew that this was not the shortest way up to the 
 wood, which was where she went the first day, or out to the 
 " Groves," where she had gone on the second ; on both occa- 
 sions he had put on his hat and gone out, the third day he 
 sat ready to follow her; row he thought he understood. 
 He knew something about girls who will and will not ; they 
 acted exactly in this way. 
 
 To-day she came as usual, glanced apprehensively across, 
 and strolled on with her portfolio under her arm. Some 
 one stopped her, and she thus chanced to look round and 
 so detected him. He was already advancing quickly ; he 
 was in pursuit, he had struck the trail. 
 
 She said good-bye, and as soon as she could do so unob- 
 served, she quickened her ordinary pace to the quickest of
 
 THE HUNT. 227 
 
 which she was capable. She was frightened, unaccountably 
 frightened. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have turned 
 back, but today she could not endure his gaze, and there 
 was no one else about. So she walked on, and on, and on, 
 but suspected that he was gaining on her — she almost knew 
 it. She dare not run on the high-road, but she trusted to 
 the fact that she was more at home in the " Groves " than 
 he was, and that she could slip away. She therefore left the 
 road and made her way^through the wood ; she saw to her 
 terror that he plunged into it as well, so she ventured to run 
 up the hill, but in the direction from which he came ; then 
 she stooped down behind a large stone. She was quite suc- 
 cessful, for almost directly afterwards she saw hini pass by 
 a little below the place where she crouched, her heart beat- 
 ing as though it would burst her dress. Here, where no one 
 could see him, he ran, he climbed, he jumped — nothing 
 checked his straight upward course. She waited till he was 
 out of sight, and then ran off through the wood in the oppo- 
 site direction from that in which he had gone ; she did not stop 
 till she found herself far above " The Estate" on a rock under a 
 fir-tree, with leafy trees all round, and, while hot and panting 
 she looked round her, thinking how wonderful the view was 
 which she took in in a rapid glance, he rose before her 
 mind's eye as he had looked when he hurried past the stone. 
 He was horrible ! That man could do anything ! 
 
 After that, she could never get rid of him. It was always 
 he, nothing but he; or rather every moment of the day she 
 fled from him, but he always reappeared. 
 
 Her sisters reported to her that he hung about the house and 
 looked in; walked past and looked in, talked to them, asked 
 them to remember him to her. This immensely excited them, 
 they were proud of it; his remark that Tora was "the hand- 
 somest girl " had reached them too. But Tora's terror in- 
 creased; she was pursued. She knew that he would notgive up. 
 
 Where could she go to ? None of the Rendalens were at 
 home. She could go to them after the holidays, but nearly 
 three weeks still remained. She could not speak to any one 
 else, she was too much ashamed. She did think once of 
 shoemaker Hansen, but Fru Hansen was severe, she would 
 not exactly understand. Her mother she never once thought 
 of. But after all it was a thing which entirely concerned her- 
 self; she need be in no man's power if she did not choose.
 
 228 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 No, but when she could not by any means get him out of 
 her thoughts ? 
 
 On Saturday evening she had flung herself upon her bed, 
 as weary as though she had passed the day in the hardest 
 manual labour. She lay there and looked at the yards of 
 a ship which was being towed past. She watched the 
 folds in the loosely hanging sails which were swaying in the 
 wind. The vessel was so near that she could almost have 
 touched her. Outside there was a heavy sea, the storm driv- 
 ing the swell up into the harbour: she, too, longed to find a 
 haven ! It was Saturday evening, to-morrow she would have to 
 go to church. Karl Vangen's face smiled to her as she remem- 
 bered this, and she felt happy before she fell asleep. If he 
 had been a girl she would have gone to him — just to /a'm — 
 with the trouble which oppressed her. 
 
 The next day she occupied a seat at the furthest end of 
 the church. Karl Vangen had met her, and said how nice 
 it was that she was coming up to them again to help Fru 
 Rendalen. On account of this remark she had chosen the 
 most remote seat ; she did not feel sure that she might not 
 begin to cry. 
 
 She did not, however ; there was something soothing in 
 the church and the stillness and the people, which was 
 unlike the summer day outside. But when Karl Vangen 
 went into the pulpit, and his prayer was the one which he 
 had used on her first school-day — that on meeting, almost 
 word for word the same — it disturbed her : that even Karl 
 Vangen's prayer should be a lesson from earlier days. 
 This little coincidence occupied her, and she did not follow 
 him. She gathered that the sermon dealt with conversion, 
 and that Karl Vangen, as was his custom, illustrated what 
 he was saying by examples from real life. But she had 
 heard these examples at school, every one of them. 
 
 She was roused by the name of John Wesley. His con- 
 version, Vangen considered, was the most thorough, the 
 fullest in every particular, that he knew of. He related it, 
 and then passed on to give examples of sudden conversions, 
 especially some by Wesley himself; other natures with 
 different pasts, with different kinds of knowledge, influenced 
 by other fears. He wished to speak of these sudden conver- 
 sions separately to-day. He had known a young girl who 
 had a burning desire for grace for her sins, which she could
 
 THE HUNT. 229 
 
 by no means obtain, until one day she saw Rubens' picture 
 of the Crucifixion, and Mary Magdalene standing with long 
 flowing hair at the foot of the cross. She would be Mary 
 Magdalene. And all at once it was a joy to her to imagine 
 herself at the foot of the cross in the place of Mary Mag- 
 dalene ; her thoughts dwelt on this so powerfully that it 
 seemed as though she, and no one else, stood there. At 
 once she received the knowledge that it was for ker that 
 Jesus was crucified, /ler sins were forgiven. She was seized 
 with a great, great joy. The preacher knew several such 
 examples, especially among women. They had clung so 
 persistently to some single incident in the life of Jesus, some 
 single word of His, something special in the mystery of 
 grace, and had gazed upon it until it had the effect of a 
 strong light, a special knowledge. From that time all 
 became clear to them, their sins were taken from them ; 
 their will became stronger from that day and hour. 
 
 Tora did not hear more, least of all that it was against 
 this, that Vangen wished to speak. Then and there her 
 mind was occupied with an attempt to follow these 
 examples. His too familiar voice murmured on ; every- 
 thing round her seemed to fade away. She saw Jesus on 
 the cross in a strange country, with driving black clouds 
 above Him, each height, each valley, each tree veiled and 
 mourning. She saw His eyes close. His chest rise and fall, 
 and it all became night. She felt her own small sorrows 
 hidden in that awful moment. How long she remained in 
 this condition she did not know. The sermon was not 
 over, she could not therefore go j but she could not listen, 
 she did not desire to do so. 
 
 When at length she left the church she had only one 
 wish — to be able to renew that vision as soon as she could. 
 
 Through all these days she had not been outside the door, 
 she must go this afternoon. From fear of Fiirst she went 
 over towards the mountain, and from there up into the 
 wood along by the churchyard, and then on to the big fir- 
 tree on the right, and sat down on the stone under it — it was 
 smooth and flat. She had not come to dream or to enjoy 
 herself, but for real help to consecrate her life. These weary 
 days had enlightened her ; she knew now that her character 
 combined a little of everything ; that she wished for a little 
 of everything, even of what was wrong, so that she would be
 
 236 THE HERITAGE OF THE! RVkTS. 
 
 an easy prey for a rogue. She had not been sufficiently 
 guarded from the first ; she had been completely unprepared 
 — nay, the danger had had something attractive in it. 
 
 This must now be changed ; she would do any kind of 
 work, if only it would be a restraint on her. She had no 
 more ambition now, nothing but dread. 
 
 She fell upon her knees, and with her blood coursing the 
 faster from her hurried ascent, she offered her prayer in her 
 abasement. It was the most humble, piteous pleading. 
 Her distress was extreme. Power to resist the will which 
 conquered hers ! She did not doubt for a moment that her 
 petition would be instantly and literally granted. 
 
 Mentally she saw herself endowed with strength, she saw 
 herself without fear — even with a mission ; no matter what it 
 was, so that it continued. And that should regulate her life. 
 Willingly ! Always ! She could not picture to herself 
 greater joy, honour, or riches than to give herself to some 
 hard task ; it was her nature to wish for extremes. 
 
 And now she began to contemplate herself — no, she came 
 to a stand, her mind was disturbed when she thought of hei 
 friends. Milla's greatest anxiety in her last letter had been 
 lest the weather should not continue fine, and Nora had 
 feared that they might forget to send her some new music. 
 Why should she alone, who was hiding here, have such 
 dreadful trouble? Her desolate position ought to have made 
 people pity her, but it only encouraged them. 
 
 She sat, turned away from the view, leaning against the big 
 fir-tree. Before her she saw alder woods, nothing but young 
 luxuriant alder woods, and fronds of bracken in a thick 
 mass. Ah ! how impotent all that was, that they had 
 discussed together at the Society's meetings, and at other 
 places. Only a few weeks ago, and now she must hide 
 herself here. If this became known, she would no doubt 
 lose the small status she had gained for herself. She would 
 hardly go again to the Engels, she would not be allowed to 
 be Milla's friend, perhaps not be able even to go up to Fru 
 Rendalen's again; she began to cry, but she tried to collect 
 herself. The image of the sly, excited, accursed face that 
 she had seen from behind the stone down below, seemed to 
 stab her — to thrill through her; she understood that the 
 dread with which she terrified herself was a greater danger 
 to her than the actual man.
 
 THE HUNT. 231 
 
 She ought to have gone home again, but it was a shame 
 not to test her strength, and so she stayed there. 
 
 As Tora, a short time before, was climbing the hill, Niels 
 Fiirst was sauntering up and down the deck of a vessel, the 
 captain of which he knew, and just as she reached the flat 
 stone under the fir-tree he had taken up the new ship's tele- 
 scope to try it ; he focussed it and turned it towards the 
 river-bank, and from there gradually upwards across the 
 wooden slopes. Tora had just seated herself on the stone 
 as the telescope was turned to that point, and he recognised 
 her. 
 
 He took a short cut across the market-place, and turned 
 up to the right of " The Estate " gardens. 
 
 Latterly he had thought of nothing but her, he could not 
 occupy himself, and he slept badly. He had never been in 
 pursuit of so beautiful a girl before. 
 
 Although day after day she passed his house, she con- 
 stantly eluded his pursuit, and all his efforts were still fruit- 
 less. All that was needed was to find her in her hiding- 
 place ; one could not do her a greater service. Nay, the 
 oftener she hid herself, the greater would be the refinement 
 of her pleasure in being discovered. Now he understood 
 why she had left Fru Grondal's that day — now he saw why 
 she had cried on board the steamer. Ah, these little girls ! 
 But the pursuit would become wearisome if it continued 
 much longer. His own credit was at stake as well ; no 
 one must suppose that they could befool //////. His char- 
 acter, too, would be safer v/hen this was all settled; she would 
 be silent then. If only she did not see him too soon, if he 
 could only get near enough to hold her with his eyes ! 
 
 Notwithstanding his intense excitement, he advanced 
 skilfully, not by the path, but straight up through the wood 
 under cover of the leaves. He scrambled where he could not 
 walk, he climbed where he could not scramble. She sat there, 
 searching for some definite idea which might be extended 
 until it entirely occupied and engrossed her mind; but she 
 was not successful — there was something which always dis- 
 tracted her. Just then a branch snapped down below. She had 
 constantly felt tempted to turn round. Was there really any- 
 thing behind her ? She looked down below her. At first 
 she saw nothing; yes, the branches moved and she heard
 
 232 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 the leaves rustle. That might be a horse or cow from "The 
 Estate " ; they came up here for pasture. All the same, she 
 felt very hot; she wanted to get up and go away; but her 
 eyes continued fixed on the branches below, there was 
 something dark beneath them. A head pushed its way 
 
 through, a man — he! How in the world ? Did he know 
 
 that she ? How did he come to ? She bewildered 
 
 herself with useless, frightened questions. He looked up. 
 With all her power she raised herself, though her feet felt as 
 heavy as lead; but she did not turn from him, or attempt to 
 go away, and by degrees she lost the desire to do so. Now 
 there was only the stone between them, a wave of terror 
 swept over her and roused her ; she turned her head now, 
 staggered a few steps — and met him. She leaned forward, 
 he took her hand, his arm slipped under hers — she felt as 
 though a burning band were round her. She fell so unex- 
 pectedly and so heavily that he nearly fell with her.
 
 VI 
 
 WHAT FIDELITY WILL SAY
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 happiness. 
 
 •' Dear Nora, 
 
 " I know beforehand that this will not be a regular 
 letter, I have no time for one. I almost think that you had 
 better not show it to the others, they will hardly understand 
 my feelings. Last, but not least, there is something which 
 divides the others from us two ; I feel that instinctively. If 
 only I could do away with some of what I — feel, I had 
 almost written again. You must know that I have passed 
 the greatest, the most beautiful, the most enchanting day in 
 my life. 
 
 " Ah ! now you are curious. I will not bother you, but all 
 the same I must begin with how and why I came to do so. 
 
 " When we arrived at Copenhagen, who should meet us at 
 the station but Niels Furst ! Of course it had been arranged 
 between him and papa. I saw that at once, but papa is so 
 clever at keeping a secret. Do you know where Niels Fiirst 
 came from ? From Sofiero. Yes, now it is written, and you 
 understand the whole thing. I told you that, long ago, 
 papa had had the honour of being invited by his Majesty to 
 come and see Sofiero the next time he went abroad. There 
 are not many Norwegians to whom that has happened, so it 
 was very flattering to papa. 
 
 " He had said nothing to me ; he did not wish to make me 
 nervous before the time, he said. Fiirst came straight from 
 Sofiero — fancy, he is perhaps to be made orderly officer to the 
 prince who is a sailor, — his Royal Hi^^hness Prince Oscar, 
 that is to say. Fiirst told us at what time the train woulci 
 leave the next day. Good heavens ! actually the next day. We 
 were expected, then 1 I was not allowed to make any toilette,
 
 236 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 I was to appear just in my travelling dress, as papa was to do 
 as well. That naughty Lieutenant Fiirst — you know he is 
 related to us — he calls me cousin, though I am not one. He 
 said I was pretty enough as I was. Do you know him? 
 
 " It was now a question of getting some sleep after the 
 journey — one does not look well when one has not slept. I 
 have never struggled so hard to go to sleep before. I was 
 terribly startled, you see. I thought about the stupidest 
 things in the world. Do you remember chief custom- 
 house ofificer Jacobsen's nose ? I lay and stared at his nose, 
 till I really fell asleep thinking of it and of the town bailiff; 
 and I can tell you I was so tired, that when I was once 
 asleep, I slept like a top. I was, thank goodness, none the 
 worse when I got up. But it was awful, really awful, later 
 on. You have never been in such circumstances, so perhaps 
 it may seem odd to you that the more I thought of the im- 
 portant moment, and that I had no lady to refer to (men 
 can never tell one anything, and so they laugh), the more 
 terrified I became. It was rather a cold morning, and one 
 thing with the other, the cold and the fright — Fiirst called it 
 cannon fever — I was most miserably uncomfortable. It 
 was dreadfully silly; at last I could not altogether con- 
 ceal it. You understand. But I consoled myself with the 
 thought that I was not the first girl to whom this had 
 happened, when she was to be presented at Court. I was 
 really quite ill at last, and therefore have hardly any impres- 
 sion of the journey, or what we talked about. For all that, 
 I got into a dispute. Fiirst said that all the monarchies 
 were trying to gather the wealthy classes about themselves 
 against the lower classes. That seems to me to be too bad. 
 Is the monarchy meant to protect itself? I thought it was 
 to protect the lower classes, and I said so too. Papa began 
 to tease me about the Society and school, and Karen Lote's 
 history lessons; you can hear him, can't you? Fiirst asked 
 who was to protect the wealthy classes in that case ? They 
 must protect themselves, I should suppose. At all events, it 
 is wicked of them to betray the lower classes, is it not ? 
 
 " Oh, how enchanting Oresund is ! When we crossed (I 
 forgot to say that we came there, that is, to Helsingor, by 
 railway) you see what I am to-day. . . . No, I will pass that 
 altogether, or I shall never be ready. Father wants me to 
 go out with him this morning, you will soon see why. I
 
 HAPPINESS. 237 
 
 will begin with the Palace, which can be seen from the 
 Sound; it is magnificently situated, but is not so large as 
 we had expected. So at last we arrived at Helsingborg. 
 There, now you zvt7l be astonished — a royal carriage was 
 waiting for us. Both papa and Fiirst took it as a matter of 
 course, but I am certain that they were at least as astonished 
 as I was. 
 
 " The carriage was just like any other ; it is the livery 
 which is the important point. But I was in the most deadly 
 terror how it would all go off. The weather had, ho\v> 
 ever, become delightful. I was obliged to leave them for a 
 moment before we got into the carriage. 
 
 " You can imagine how upset 1 was by it all, when I tell 
 you that I perspired through my gloves. Of course I had 
 another pair to put on when I got there. Papa drove me 
 to despair by saying, ' My dear child, how wretched you 
 look.' I really believe I had tears in my eyes, for Fiirst, 
 who was opposite to me, began to try to amuse me, but I 
 hardly heard what he said. But still through it all I noticed 
 that the formation was a mixture of sandstone and coal 
 strata, and that there was a lot of iron in the rocks. I 
 thought of Rendalen and his maps and collections. You 
 cannot imagine how all this passed through my mind in the 
 midst of my fright. If any one would have taken me home 
 again, at the price of every pretty thing I possess, I would 
 have accepted the offer, I can assure you. We drove 
 through a little wood, and came out into a great open quad- 
 rangle — the Palace. 
 
 " When I saw the quadrangle and the grass there — how do 
 things come into one's head ? — I remembered so distinctly 
 the lesson at school when I learned that bowling-green 
 meant in English just such a place as this ; and that Fru 
 Rendalen came into the class at the moment and asked why 
 it was called a bowling-green ? and that Tora whispered it 
 to me. How cleverly Tora could do such things ! I have 
 no further recollection of where we drew up. I got out of 
 the carriage, when a very grand gentleman met us, and gave 
 me his arm. We were shown to some rooms. A lady came 
 with me, thank goodness. I was not myself till that 
 moment. I looked at myself in the glass. What a fright I 
 was 1 I saw that at once in papa's face when we met in a 
 sitting-room. Fancy, I never noticed in what direction we
 
 238 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 went or where the room was. Guess where we were going 
 to. Into the garden, where we were to lunch with their 
 Majesties. There could not have been greater condescen- 
 sion to the townsfolk of a little Norwegian town, could 
 there ? Do you remember how we dressed our dolls for a 
 Court ball ? The same gentleman — Fiirst does not remember 
 his name, but I believe he was a gentleman-in-waiting — 
 escorted me and said something to me in Swedish. I could 
 not understand him, my wits were wool-gathering. 
 
 " No one could have been in a greater state of mind. 
 When I saw the garden and came into it — it all whirled 
 round me, trees, people, table, servants, chairs — the awful 
 fright I was in almost made me drop. I used all my 
 strength, I can assure you. The gentleman whose arm I had, 
 must have felt my hand tremble, or have read my trouble in 
 my face; he told me not to be frightened, their Majesties 
 were so charming. I understood that. 
 
 "Oh dear, and how wonderfully good they were; especially 
 the King. Oh, that smile, the shape of the hand, those 
 eyes ! It was a perfect ocean of goodness — but more than 
 goodness. There is something, especially in the eyes, which 
 fascinates one. I will use the word heaven rather than 
 ocean to describe those eyes, for then you can better under- 
 stand what the Swedes call tjusande.* There is no word in 
 Norse for it. Yes, tjusande I Only southern people have 
 su('h eyes. How cold and egotistical we are, I must say it, 
 when we look at them. At all events, I feel it so. 
 
 "Now you shall hear something wonderful: from the time — 
 I may say from the very second^n which his Majesty's 
 eyes rested on me, I felt well again. Well, did I say ? I 
 felt this look fill and warm my whole being. I felt it — it is 
 strange, is it not ? but on my honour it is true — I felt it in 
 my knees ; yes, in my knees. There is only one word in our 
 language which can fully express my state of mind ; I am 
 almost in the same state now, merely with telling you about 
 it, the others would not understand me. I was in a state of 
 beatitude. Perhaps it is profane, or at least wrong, to use 
 this word in such a sense, but it is true. 
 
 " What do you think the King said ? " Welcome to my 
 house, Froken," in the prettiest, sweetest Norse I ever heard. 
 
 * Enchanting
 
 HAPPINESS. 239 
 
 " The Queen smiled. She asked me what town I came 
 from. The King answered for me. 
 
 " 'What is the clergyman called ? ' asked the Queen. 
 
 " ' Karl Vangen,' I said ; but that was stupid ; I ought to 
 have mentioned the Dean's name or that of one of the elder 
 clergy. At the same time the King welcomed my father, who 
 stood there with Furst, and said to him, ' I think the lieu- 
 tenant has excellent taste.' That is exactly what he said, word 
 for word ; I have often thought of it since, for it evidently 
 showed that Niels Flirst had spoken about me in these high 
 places. I did not know that they would trouble themselves 
 about anything so insignificant. 
 
 " We then went to table, the same elegant gentleman took 
 me. * Well?' said he in Swedish, and I hastened to answer 
 that I was enchanted. 'Every one is,' he assured me. 
 We did not sit down, but walked about as we liked, and 
 first one and then another came up and was presented to 
 me. Only think ! one of them was a Count, another a 
 Baron, then a Countess, a Baroness, and a Master of the 
 Horse ; he in particular came and walked about, and talked 
 continually. 
 
 " It was not exactly what they said, but their whole style 
 and manner had something incredibly intellectual and 
 winning. But there was something as well in the place and 
 surroundings which helped, for I felt as though I were not 
 on earth. 
 
 " The servants themselves made me feel uneasy and small, 
 they gave me the impression of being so careful, so attentive, 
 of knowing so well how everything should be. 
 
 " I did not always do things right. We Norwegians do 
 not learn anything. No, there was a nobility, a beauty and 
 kindness, and it was all so bright and yet so stately ; none 
 of the Princes were there, though. What we had to eat (I 
 hardly touched anything) I can say by heart, for I wrote it 
 down in my diary, and I will copy it for Tora ; that and the 
 furniture of the castle, and a thousand other things which 
 }ou do not care about. You do not understand anything 
 about nice dishes, but I arrange it so as to tell you all the 
 more intellectual things, and you must not show it to any 
 one. My word, if you do ! Nora, you don't know, but I 
 must have one confidante, or happiness would be a burden. 
 I have never felt as I have done yesterday and to-day. I
 
 240 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 am quite upset. I will write to Tora about my dress. Of 
 course I have a new one, which I think would have surprised 
 you all, although there is not much to be done in black. Still 
 I think it suits me. I got a glimpse of myself in several 
 mirrors at the castle, for you must understand that we were 
 shown over it. On the side where we came in first, to the 
 left, is the great apartment where the royal entertainments 
 are held in all their grandeur. Ah ! if one could only be 
 present. This room is decorated in white, with an 
 arabesque on a blue ground, and great big pictures, one by 
 Markus Larsson, full of sunlight, but I don't know what it is, 
 it is so extraordinary ; and divans and chairs in blue silk — an 
 enormous chandelier of different coloured glass, magnificent ! 
 Near the wall two black figures, dressed in red and gold, 
 holding lamps, real works of art. A huge marble fireplace, 
 the shape we call ^ Fies,'* but the word is so ugly; and a 
 richly gilded clock and porcelain vases ; a particularly 
 noticeable flower-stand in Japanese porcelain, very curious. 
 Also a Chinese or Japanese writing-table made of black 
 wood, with gold ornaments. But that was in the cabinet. 
 
 "But no; I will scratch out about the cabinet. You 
 shall read all about it in Tora's letter. I will just tell you 
 that you look out from the great balcony over the Sound, 
 and see all the ships and steamers, and Helsingborg and 
 Kronborg. There is not a view like it in the North. How 
 should there be? Do you think we did not go into the 
 bedrooms? I don't know if that were right, but we did. I 
 really have to restrain myself from telling you about them 
 at once, and about their Majesties' sitting-rooms. Imagine 
 white silk hangings over both walls and ceiling, with a light 
 red border, in the Queen's room. And such a writing- 
 table ! The King's rooms were so nobly simple. On the 
 pillow in the King's bedroom I saw two hairs — you know 
 what sharp eyes I have. I lagged a little behind, and took 
 them without any one noticing it. I put them into the case 
 of my watch. But this reminds me of the great event. 
 When we went into the garden again, the light fell very 
 strongly right on the gate, and I saw something written on 
 the railing, I went up to it ; it was in French, and un- 
 doubtedly by a lady Yes, you see I have scratched 
 
 • Open hearth.
 
 HAPPINESS. 241 
 
 that out again. For when one has made up one's mind not 
 to repeat a thing, it shall not be repeated. It was horrid. 
 I rubbed it out with my finger; but I had to be quick, and 
 I got a splinter into my finger, through my glove, and made 
 it bleed. So I rubbed it out with my blood. I have not 
 said a word to any living being about it until now, nor must 
 you tell it to any one. To papa I said I had pricked my 
 finger while I was trying to gather a rose. 
 
 "If any one should have seen me — but they were looking 
 at something in the garden ; or if any one had seen what 
 was written before I did? Is it not extraordinary? 
 
 "The royal party and their attendants were no longer in 
 the garden, but the gentleman who had met us, now joined 
 us. As he did not show any intention of taking us to the 
 others, papa asked him to convey our respectful thanks to 
 their Majesties, and we then left the garden. The carriage 
 came up again, and my elegant cavalier handed me a beau- 
 tiful bouquet from the royal garden. What do you think of 
 that ? It is before me as I write. The flowers are of the 
 Swedish and Norwegian colours. To be sure, Fiirst says 
 they are the commonest flowers, but I thought there was 
 more meaning in it than that. I especially admire a lily 
 and a rose. I put a few forget-me-nots into my letter, for I 
 must tell you, my dear Nora, that I am not coming home 
 again. I hope this will be nearly as great an astonishment 
 to you as it was to me, when papa told me this morning. 
 I am to go to Paris to learn French thoroughly. 
 
 " ' Is that a determination he has only lately come to, or 
 why did he not tell me before?' you wiU naturally inquire. 
 
 "You must know that we start to-morrow. What do you 
 think of that? Papa cannot spare the time to remain away 
 longer. 
 
 "'But why did we not go direct?' you ask again. I 
 asked the same thing, although. Heaven knows, I would not 
 have missed yesterday for the world. 
 
 " Papa answered that he came to the determination yes- 
 terday. Lieutenant Fiirst drew his attention to the fact that 
 all well-bred Swedish ladies speak French as well as they do 
 Swedish, and that all Germans and Russians know it ; 
 besides which, every well-educated woman ought to speak 
 French like her mother tongue. 
 
 " It is not disagreeable to me to travel. To be sure, it 
 
 Q
 
 242 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 will be for at least a year that I shall be separated from you 
 all, but we shall have all the more to tell each other when 
 we meet again. 
 
 " There is one thing I must ask you about. Lieutenant 
 
 Fiirst says that I had got so far when father came 
 
 in this morning, and I had to hide my letter. He took 
 me out all in a hurry. We are only just home again 
 this evening, and do you know what for ? To pack up and 
 start at once. A fresh determination ! Lieutenant Fiirst 
 will give father the pleasure of coming with him. I shall 
 put my letter just as it is into the letter-box at the station. 
 I suspect that if I were to read it through again you would 
 not get it.— Your loving ,, Milla " 
 
 Nora and her mother had left the Baths when the letter 
 got there. It was forwarded to Christiania, where they were 
 staying. When Nora returned she found a telegram, dated 
 from Hamburg, which ran : " Do not read the letter which 
 is coming ; send it me, ' Hotel Continental, Paris.' " But 
 the letter had been already read. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A MISFORTUNE. 
 
 Soon after the beginning of the term Miss Hall began a 
 series of lectures for the ladies of the town ; it had become 
 the fashion to hear a little of all the objectional things which 
 their daughters and sisters had learned about in the past 
 year. The lecturjs were held twice a week in the great 
 laboratory, which as a rule was full. Most of those who had 
 been in the senior class the previous year, and had now left, 
 attended these lectures. One day late in October, when they 
 were assembling in the lecture-hall, Tora came in, accom- 
 panied by her friends. There was general astonishment and 
 greeting. Where had she been? Why was she so pale? 
 And, good gracious, how thin ! It was true, then, that she 
 had been ill. Was it in the west country that she had been
 
 A MISFORTUNE. 243 
 
 Staying? When had she returned to the town? Would she 
 live up here now ? 
 
 The conversation ceased as Fru Rendalen and Miss Hall 
 came in, and those who were not seated turned to find 
 places. But it was soon seen that there were not sufficient 
 seats ; the crowd had never been so great, for Miss Hall 
 was lecturing upon certain phenomena of the nerves which 
 had till now been overlooked or denied, and the lectures 
 became more interesting every time. 
 
 To gain space, the large double door leading to the 
 entrance-hall was opened, the outer door being closed. 
 A number of chairs were placed in the hall, and two rows as 
 well in front of the laboratory table. Fru Rendalen's com- 
 manding voice was heard giving directions, till quiet was 
 obtained. Tora and her friends found places at the furthest 
 end of one of these rows of chairs. 
 
 Miss Hall took up her subject where she had broken off 
 at the last lecture. 
 
 "The health and morality of mankind demanded that 
 woman's nerves should be strengthened. It was not enough 
 that she should feel physically comfortable, her will must be 
 ripened by knowledge ; she must have an aim in life which 
 will not readily allow her to remain the mere slave of another 
 human being." In a professional manner she ran shortly 
 through what she had said before, for the benefit of those 
 who had not been present. 
 
 " People with weak nerves, and especially those of an 
 hysterical temperament, can by certain mechanical operations 
 be brought into a ' hypnotic,' ' somnambulistic,' or ' mag- 
 netic ' condition. This condition was impotence combined 
 with consciousness; we did, while in this state, what he 
 wished, who had brought us into it. We were his prey, and 
 that not only while we slept, but afterwards when we were 
 awakened — we absolutely obeyed the commands we had 
 received while we were in this condition." Miss Hall 
 reminded her hearers of one or two examples she had 
 given. 
 
 " In this state certain mediums could visit other places, 
 read the thoughts of others, both near and far. Some few 
 could even see hito futurity. 
 
 " This fact could no longer be denied, nor could it be 
 explained. At one time it was believed that this result was
 
 244 T^HE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 dependent on belief; now it is known that belief has nothing 
 to do with it. Certain people could bring ihe?nselves into 
 this abnormal condition, some by great exertion, others 
 merely by wishing it. They all accomplish this— with what- 
 ever object — by fixing their minds upon some single thing, 
 either in their thoughts or in the exterior world. 
 
 " Most of us know a little of the effect of doing this, but 
 only those with weak nerves and in certain conditions can 
 bring themselves by it into a state of excitement and 
 abstraction. Many conversions have taken place by this 
 means, especially among women. In this way we come to- 
 day to what is the most dangerous for women. Some 
 people have the power of bringing others, and especially 
 women, into this condition without the ordinary mechanical 
 means, without approaching them, without any movement, 
 merely by a look. They can force people to look at them, 
 and, with their eyes on theirs, command their will." 
 
 Miss Hall related a story which she had heard of a 
 very celebrated singer. One day she wa.s in a railway 
 carriage ; the train had just stopped, and she was looking out 
 of the window furthest from the platform, when she felt 
 an uncomfortable sensation, felt constrained to turn round ; 
 she met the gaze of a pair of eyes which seemed to stab her, 
 and which looked straight into hers. She hurried out at 
 once and changed compartments, but the man followed her ; 
 he was probably aware of his power and wished to use it. 
 The lady found her Impresario, and begged him to free her 
 " from those green eyes." It was done, but she felt certain 
 that otherwise she would have been lost. " Now the Prima 
 Donna happened to be conscious of her own weakness, but 
 how many are so ? More especially if touch is added to the 
 power of the eyes, they are lost. A man who does not 
 know what it is, takes it naturally for a desire for more, and 
 acts accordingly. But this need not be so. I dare assert 
 that many a woman who has fallen is as guiltless as an 
 unconscious child." 
 
 A chair is overturned — something heavy and soft falls to 
 the ground ; other chairs are pushed aside, and exclamations 
 are heard from several of the audience as they hastily rise. 
 
 Every one now got up, those behind standing on the 
 forms. Through all the bustle they heard the words, 
 *' Stand back 1 " It was Fru llendalen's voice. Those who
 
 A MISFORTUNE. 245 
 
 were standing on the benches could not contrive to see 
 anything, and questioned those before them in whispers. 
 Only those quite near saw what it was, and they made no 
 answer, nor did they move till Fru Rendalen and one or 
 two others had lifted up an inanimate form which Fru 
 Rendalen carried out in her arms — it was Tora. "Stand 
 back ! " was heard again. 
 
 Miss Hall followed her, then Nora, Tinka, and Anna 
 Rogue, and then several others. Miss Hall hurried forward 
 as soon as they were in the hall, and opened the door of 
 Fru Rendalen's sitting-room ; she went quickly in, and 
 arranged a cushion on the sofa, while Fru Rendalen laid 
 down her burden with Nora's assistance. Miss Hall turned 
 to all those who were standing round and asked them to 
 leave the room; as soon as Fru Rendalen could raise 
 herself she sharply repeated the request. They all went 
 away. Outside in the hall they encountered a stream of 
 people coming from the laboratory — every one was curious ; 
 others came from the class-rooms, which were opening one 
 after the other. But Nora, who had grown deadly white, 
 took upon herself to stay. When her unhappy friend began 
 to show signs of life she was seized with a fearful suspicion. 
 She ran forward and fastened the doors leading to the two 
 passages. It was hardly done when she heard Tora call out, 
 "Yes, yes, that happened to me ! Oh yes." And a fit of 
 despairing crying followed. It sounded through the pas- 
 sages. Supposing any one outside should hear it ? Nora 
 flew into the inner passage, meeting the stream of people; 
 she did not clearly know how she could hinder them from 
 coming near the doors. She never knew how she got 
 through the crowd of grown people and children ; how she 
 gathered voice and courage to call out that they must not 
 go on, they must all come back again. She mounted the 
 tribune and rapped loudly with a ruler. They came 
 streaming in from all quarters. She rapped again, and every 
 one was quiet. She said : " Tora Holm has had nervous 
 fe^er. The air in here was too close, and what was said 
 frightened her, and — and — and — oh yes, Miss Hall is coming 
 directly." 
 
 She made this last assertion because she did not know 
 what else to say. She rushed away so as not to burst into 
 tears while she was in the room.
 
 246 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Miss Hall, however, could not come, and at last Fru 
 Rendalen had to go in and mount the tribune. 
 
 " I must beg your indulgence. Miss Hall is obliged to 
 remain with the invalid. I must partly take the blame on 
 myself for what has happened. Froken Holm, being so 
 unwell, ought never to have sat in this crowd. I ought 
 also to have noticed her sooner, but I was entirely engrossed 
 in the lecture. It often happens that we who are occupied 
 in teaching allow ourselves to be too much taken up with 
 it." Her voice trembled — she was as white as her own 
 cap ; she left without heeding those who wished to speak to 
 her. 
 
 In Fru Rendalen's bedroom Nora stood clinging to 
 Tinka, trembling and crying. Tinka was very dejected. 
 Some one peeped in from the passage. As no one forbade it, 
 she entered softly ; she looked at them with wide open ques- 
 tioning eyes — it was Anna Rogne. 
 
 " What is it ? " she whispered. Nora raised her face ; they 
 both looked at her. Anna remembered some remarks 
 which Tora had made in the course of the summer; on these 
 she now formed her opinion — " I suspect the worst." She 
 folded her hands ; her tears began to flow. Nora laid 
 her head down again on Tinka's shoulder and cried bitterly. 
 All the time they could hear Tora in the sitting-room ; they 
 could not distinguish her words, they were broken, wrung 
 from her by bewilderment, danger, despair. Presently there 
 was silence ; the silence was almost worse, there also they 
 were as still as death. At last they could bear it no longer, 
 what did it mean ? They exchanged looks, and were on the 
 pouit of breaking in on them, when they heard heavy, rapid 
 steps across the floor ; the door was opened violently, and 
 Fru Rendalen rushed past them with her hands above her 
 head. What is it ! in Heaven's name, what is it ? 
 
 They went in. Tora was lying on the floor, Miss Hall 
 stood over her ; on the table was a cup of water. Miss Hall 
 looked up quickly. " Help me to get her up again." They 
 did so ; they saw that Tora had not fainted, but she either 
 would not or could not help herself. When she again lay 
 on the sofa, looking like death — ghastly, thin, dishevelled — 
 Miss Hall turned with a meaning look towards the others. 
 Thev gazed at her terrified ; Miss Hall answered their looks 
 with two confirmatory nods,
 
 A MISFORTUNE. 247 
 
 They all three drew back a few steps. After a little while 
 they slipped out one after the other to Fru Rendalen, 
 She was sitting motionless in a large arm-chair. Nora came 
 and laid her hand on her lap. There was not a word 
 spoken. 
 
 Again they heard Tora from within. They heard her ex- 
 plain, cry, bemoan herself. Miss Hall came in to them, 
 " What is it now ? " asked Fru Rendalen almost grudgingly, 
 she was quite overdone. 
 
 " Did you know," said Miss Hall, " that he came after 
 her again ? " They stared at her. " She had taken refuge 
 out on an island with the family of a pilot. He traced her 
 and laid wait for her there as well, the wretch ! It was then 
 that she went into the west country, where she was taken 
 ill." 
 
 " The poor child ! " cried Fru Rendalen. Her sympathy 
 was aroused again ; she got up quickly, and went back to 
 Tora ; she ought never to have left her. 
 
 " My dear, dear child," she said. But the moment Tora 
 saw her she turned and repulsed her with her hands, crying 
 " No, no, no ! Don't come ; don't say anything — no, no, no ! 
 It is not my fault, it is not my fault. Yes, great God, it is my 
 fault ! " And she broke into the wildest crying. 
 
 All the same, Fru Rendalen came up to her; as soon as 
 she could she said, " Don't take it in this way, my child ; we 
 shall never desert you for it." This seemed to calm her, but 
 when Fru Rendalen added that some steps must be taken, 
 she must speak to her son about it, Tora broke out again, 
 " No, no, no ! Oh God, no ! " She became almost frantic. 
 
 " But, dear Tora, you know yourself how things are. It 
 cannot be helped, this will become known everywhere." 
 
 '* I know, 1 kiow; but say nothing to him. No, I must 
 get out of the way first. Do not say anything. There is 
 no need." She raved on, and her voice was so heart-breaking 
 that they all hastened to her. They wanted to quiet her by 
 holding her, but she did not look at them. Each time she 
 freed her hands or her head, and cried and implored, " They 
 must, must, must be silent." In the midst of it all arrived 
 Rendalen. He had chanced to open the bath-room door, 
 and so heard tlie cries and moans. He thought that they 
 came from the bedroom and crossed the passage to it. There 
 he stood ; Tora sprang up with a shriek, and then suddenly
 
 248 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 flung herself down, with her face in her hands. Fru 
 Rendalen went towards her son, took him by the hand, and 
 went with him to his room. Tora tried to rise, to go 
 away. She would live no longer — no, not for the whole 
 world. She struggled with the others, but for Tinka she 
 would have fled. She was beside herself. She im- 
 plored and struggled. Tinka held her till her strength 
 began to fail; she called for help. Anna fetched Fru 
 Rendalen, and as soon as she came Tora gave in. She 
 allowed herself to be led by her to the sofa, and, when she 
 was calmer, into the bedroom. There she was undressed 
 and laid in a bed, which had been placed by the side of 
 Fru Rendalen's. Fru Rendalen was obliged to sit by her 
 side and hold her hand— even in her sleep she sobbed like a 
 child and bemoaned herself. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PEACE- MAKING WITHIN, PROPOSALS OF PEACE WITHOUT. 
 
 When Fru Rendalen took her son by the hand, when she 
 proposed to speak to him, it was by no means with pleasure 
 that she did so, but, on the contrary, with great anxiety. 
 
 The relations between mother and son had, as we know, 
 for some time lost their confidential character ; for som.e 
 tune they had not been good, and at the present moment 
 they were actually bad. On his side it almost amounted to 
 a breach. No one could interfere, not even Karl Vangen. 
 Tomas declined to speak on the subject, it pained him if 
 Karl brought it up. This last phase had been produced 
 quite by chance, by an external cause. 
 
 According to arrangement, Tora Holm was to have assisted 
 Fru Rendalen ; but when she remained ill in the west 
 country, Nora offered to take her place. Nora's gifts lay in 
 a different direction from Tora's — her help was therefore 
 given in a different way ; among other things, she was de- 
 puted to keep the books. One day when, for want of some- 
 thing to do, Nora chanced to be comparing past and present 
 expenses, turning over the earlier pages of the books,
 
 PEA CE-MA KING. 249 
 
 Tomas, elegant as usual, hurried through the room on his 
 cvay out. " Who is this Tomasine," Nora inquired, " who 
 has had so much money? It is not your mother, for she 
 always puts ' self ' in the entries, and nothing more." 
 
 " Tomasine ? I never heard of any Tomasine." _ He came 
 up to her, put down his hat, and in his short-sighted way 
 bent over the register, knitting his light eyebrows, staring 
 with his sharp grey eyes. She turned over the pages and 
 showed him the entries, month after month, which extended 
 back for several years. She could not make much of it, but 
 /le began to do so ; for her the subject had no great interest, 
 for him it appeared all-important. While he studied the 
 books, she observed him and the effect which his near 
 neighbourhood had on her ; it was agreeable. She looked 
 at the freckles on his clean-shaven face. In repose the 
 sharp lines of the mouth, the quickness of the eyes, and the 
 power of the brow showed more distinctly ; the strong jaw, 
 the bristling red hair, pleased her. She followed the short, 
 slightly recurved, nervous fingeis as they turned over the 
 leaves and toyed with the cover of the book. A strong, 
 freckled hand, covered thickly with light bristles, a thick 
 wrist — one felt the strength of the arm, she traced it involun- 
 tily to the shoulder ; how strong he must be. She heard 
 the scraping of his necktie on his shirt-front when he drew his 
 breath. She noticed the slight whiff of scent which, now 
 that his head was so near her, mingled with the smell of his 
 skin. Something of half terror, an intoxication, a feeling of 
 increased intelligence came over her — her thoughts moved 
 more quickly, were more highly strung. She wished it 
 might continue — it was absolutely pleasant. 
 
 "Where is mother?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " This is very curious." He took up his hat and went 
 out. Hardly five minutes later, Fru Rendalen came quickly 
 in from the inner passage. "You excite yourself so, 
 Tomas." 
 
 " Excite myself? " As soon as she saw that Nora was 
 there she turned quickly towards him. " Hush," she said, 
 and went towards her bedroom, he following her. Nora 
 heard him talking quickly and without a pause ; she could 
 hear Fru Rendalen as well, parrying his words, and at last 
 tearfully justifying herself. At length he went away ; long
 
 250 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 afterwards Fru Rendalen came back, sad and sorrowful. " I 
 have done a dreadfully foolish thing," said Nora shamefacedly. 
 
 Fru Rendalen made no reply ; she continued to walk 
 slowly up and down. It was more than she could bear 
 alone, and Nora's evident sympathy tempted her. 
 
 "God knows, I believed it was one of the best acts of my 
 life, and now I am told it is the worst." Tears bedewed 
 her spectacles, and as usual she turned her attention to them 
 as she sat down. Nora rose and came forward sympa- 
 thetically. " But, dear Fru Rendalen." She knelt down be- 
 side her. The old lady wanted this friendliness, wanted 
 some one to confide in, and so Nora learned that 
 "Tomasine" was Tomas's sister. The girl had begun well, 
 but from the time that she had gone to America she fell 
 into bad ways, and was sent home again, out of her 
 mind. Fru Rendalen had paid for her till her death. She 
 had been entirely silent about it to her son — why need he. 
 know of it ? But now he fell upon her with the most fright- 
 ful accusations. The dead girl had had the same right in 
 her father's fortune as he ; the law on this subject was vile, 
 no honourable person could abide by it. In the most 
 violent words he had cast his sister's misfortune in Fru 
 Rendalen's face. S/ie was responsible for it. 
 
 Nora was dismayed. She had heard one or two things 
 said since she had been up here, but this ! 
 
 Rendalen's manner during the time which followed 
 frightened her, if possible, still more ; she suffered almost as 
 much as Fru Rendalen. He treated his mother distantly 
 and coldly when he was obliged to be with her ; as a rule he 
 avoided her. 
 
 From the time he was a boy Tomas had at times felt 
 her to be coarse-grained and wanting in refinement, as 
 though he had no relationship with her. The feeling had 
 always yielded to gratitude, and to the similarity in their 
 views and purposes of life ; and, whatever his feelings might 
 be, he nourished a constant admiration for her strength and 
 power of govel'nment. His ill-temper had always come 
 suddenly, and passed away directly. 
 
 It was quite the contrary at a later time. 
 
 His mother did not understand all this, neither did Karl, 
 but they realised that he was unhappy. He seemed to them 
 to be in a growing state of self-tortnent, and in this they
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 25 1 
 
 were not mistaken. He would discover, with all the in- 
 genuity of a Kierkegaard, that if he had never existed, his 
 sister would have lived happily. She would have had the 
 property then, and the hereditary tendency would not have 
 grown into insanity ; or he would picture his sister brought 
 up there with him, with Augusta, and with the other girls, in 
 the garden, in the school ; all those strangers had admittance 
 here, she only had not — his sister, his father's daughter. 
 That his mother could with an easy conscience buy herself 
 free from this imperative duty, and that with a few paltry 
 daler a month; that she had never felt that more was 
 demanded of her ! — what a crime had been committed 
 against the unfortunate girl, and she had never once com- 
 prehended this ! 
 
 In the midst of it all came the incident of Tora. His 
 mother insisted on speaking to him. The first time, as we 
 know, she was interrupted ; but when Tora was asleep she 
 went in and confided it all to him. He perceived at once 
 its bearing on the school, on her friends, and on himself, 
 and fell into such a fury against Niels J'iirst, whom he had 
 not loved before, as can be best described by his own 
 exclamation : " If I had him here I would beat him to a 
 jelly with my own two hands." 
 
 Although Tomas had no outward resemblance to his 
 father, he could look so like him that it made Fru Rendalen 
 shudder. 
 
 This very fear gave her courage. For a whole year she 
 had seen how his impatience, irritability, and quickness of 
 temper increased. When she herself aroused it she did no 
 more than justify herself, or perhaps go away ; he had really 
 cowed her by degrees. 
 
 But now another was in question. Tora's despair forced 
 her on ; it had, too, an alarming resemblance to what she 
 saw before her. When, after another overpowering out- 
 burst, he was about to rush away, she placed herself before 
 him. 
 
 " Tomas, you frighten the life out of me with your vio- 
 lence. You give way to it more and mere; it will grow 
 beyond you at last, my son." 
 
 He shuddered, and grew deadly white. 
 
 " Yes, excess is excess in whatever way it shows itself, and 
 I think you ought to be on your guard."
 
 252 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Her voice trembled ; their eyes met and measured each 
 other; an unhappiness and bitterness had risen into his, 
 which wounded her. 
 
 " What, Tomas, may I not so much as warn you — I, your 
 own mother? No, do not look at me like that. It is not 
 my fault. I have combated it as well as I could — yes, 
 before you were born, Tomas, and I intend to combat it 
 still. For the last year you have not struggled against your 
 temper, and it is especially on me that you vent it." 
 
 He stood near the window, looking out. He turned now 
 with a melancholy expression. 
 
 " What is it, Tomas ? Tell me, in God's name, what 
 it is?" 
 
 But he turned away again, and laid his head on his 
 arm. 
 
 " I do not understand you, Tomas, you are so super- 
 cilious to me. You say there is something naturally blind 
 about me, and I know it. Yes, you often humihate me — 
 often when I am alone, and that I can bear; but often 
 before others as well, and that you should not do. At all 
 events, you ought to be able to bear having your faults 
 pointed out to you by me." 
 
 She said the last words almost humbly; they worked 
 strongly upon him. He did not speak, but he turned and 
 began to walk quickly up and down in visible agitation. 
 
 "If I could only understand what it is you are vexed 
 
 with me for. It is not only what you rebuked me for 
 
 Yes, Tomas, you cannot bear to hear that word ; but I have 
 had to endure more than words. It is not that alone ; 
 there is something more under all this. What is it? Why 
 do you never talk now, Tomas, either to me or Karl ? You 
 are unhappy ; do you think we have not noticed it ? I 
 would so joyfully do anything for you. Even if I am infe- 
 rior to you " 
 
 " I cannot endure to hear that word," he cried. 
 
 *' No, no, but you never will condesend to speak to me, so 
 I am compelled to think — no, I will not say that, but you 
 see yourself what you are; one must not so much as make 
 
 use of a word before you, and you But I will be silent, I 
 
 see that you are suffering, my son ; if only you would remem- 
 ber that I suffer as well. Great heavens ! must I ask permission 
 before I remind you that this has been going on for a year ?
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 253 
 
 I have not the slightest idea what is the matter — not the 
 shghtest, Tomas, beyond what results from my want of ability. 
 If there is anything that I can set right, only tell me — tell 
 me, whatever it is. Can you not trust me?" 
 
 " Cannot you trust me ? " he burst out, and threw himself 
 down on the sofa, with his face in his hands. 
 
 And then it transpired that he thirsted for sympathy. 
 
 His was a warm, impulsive nature, which must have trust 
 and affection if he were not to waste his whole life. The 
 independence to which he had accustomed himself, and 
 which had increased during his violent studies, his continual 
 journeys, and by his different plans, had changed into a 
 sense of deprivation — had been succeeded by the most 
 terrible hunger when he was here in the midst of a daily 
 recurring life, .full of heartiness and devotion — devotion to 
 one another, while he was always outside it. All his being 
 yearned for what he saw. " Not the cursed littlenesses," as 
 he expressed himself; "no, only to have trust as the ground- 
 work of everything — trust, and nothing but trust." 
 
 They must just bear with him and take him as he was, 
 because they believed in Jiim. Otherwise, he should go to 
 destruction. 
 
 Fru Rendalen sat there, she had taken his head on her 
 lap; she listened and listened, her heart swelled, and she 
 laid her spectacles aside, for they were no longer any use to 
 her. 
 
 " He is right," she thought ; ^' oh, how right he is ! " One 
 image rose up in her mind after another ; above all, the 
 incident with the teachers. She had believed them at once, 
 and to humour them had taken the school away from him, 
 and from that time forward had in a manner controlled it. 
 Till this moment she had lived in the blessed delusion that 
 he was indifferent to this — nay, that it was a relief to him. 
 And thus things began to dawn upon her which she might 
 otherwise never have discovered. She did not understand 
 this delicate, sensitive nature. If his repressed powers did 
 not recover their strength, the fault would be hers. 
 
 " You mean about the teachers, Tomas ? " she asked, 
 and she could hardly control her voice. He took her hands 
 and held them while he enumerated his grievances. 
 
 There were, oh, such a string of them, both great and 
 small — some so small that she had never been conscious of
 
 254 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS 
 
 them. An answer, a word of advice in passing, a remirk to 
 some one else, even a silent look in response to something 
 he had said. In her distress, the worthy Fru Rendalen 
 asked his pardon with voice and gesture and tender embraces, 
 declaring that hereafter if he said he wished to go to the 
 moon, she would believe him. She had never worked her- 
 self up before to such decided exaggeration, so that Tomas 
 was forced to smile. Her memory was awakened. She 
 remembered clearly how it had all happened, and how she 
 had first lost confidence in him. It had been after his 
 famous lecture ; he had taken her much farther with him 
 on to ''slippery ice" than she had really the courage to go, 
 and she had only discovered this afterwards. That was the 
 foundation of it all. His power of persuasion, his gift for 
 talking people over, and something indescribable added to 
 this, carried one away; that was undoubtedly what the 
 teachers had felt. Now unfortunately it is the way with 
 mankind, that as soon as we discover that any one has 
 carried us farther than it suits us to go, we not only try 
 to fight against it— that would be right enough — but 
 we look ever afterwards with mistrust at what that person 
 says. Fru Rendalen knew that at times she had done this, 
 and had tried to correct it ; but she had had no idea how 
 often she had done so, and still less how often he had 
 noticed it. She knew that she hurt herself when she did so, 
 but till now it had never occurred to her that she had hurt 
 him — he seemed so superior and so distant. 
 
 There was a real reconciliation. It was broken off, and 
 taken up again during the next few days, whenever it was 
 possible. 
 
 The immediate fate of the unfortunate Tora was decided 
 at the same time, but this was but a small settlement com- 
 pared to the great one which had been accomplished. A 
 confidence was now opened between them which on his side 
 poured out with overwhelming wealth. The long privation 
 of a year satisfied itself in two days ; he was so sponta- 
 neous, so tender, and so loyal in the smallest things, that she 
 more than admired him, she adored him. If when she 
 was wrapt in her own thoughts, he came unexpectedly 
 upon her, she coloured ; you could see by her face when 
 she heard his step — she guessed everything he wanted, and 
 everything he wished for was remarkable. If she saw that
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 255 
 
 he was in a good-humour, she sang — the worst thing she 
 could have done, for no one ever yet discovered what it was 
 she beheved herself to be singing. 
 
 Nora would have felt unhappy if she had not as well been 
 drawn into this great feast of reconciliation, which lasted from 
 morning till evening, and from morning till evening again. 
 
 In the midst of all their joy, Tora's affairs, as has been 
 said, were arranged. Tomas had soon come to a clear 
 understanding of what should be done. The newspapers 
 announced that Flirst had been ordered to Stockholm, and 
 he offered to take Tora there at once. Fiirst should be 
 forced to marry her — not, of course, that she should live with 
 such a scoundrel, but in order to give his name to her child 
 and support to herself, so that she might learn to do some- 
 thing, and be able to care for her child. If Rendalen had 
 to go to Fiirst's superior officers — nay, to the Kmg himself — 
 he would answer for it that the wretch should do her justice. 
 None of those in the secret, least of all Fru Rendalen, 
 doubted for a moment. They were surrounded by an atmo- 
 sphere of confidence and hope. 
 
 The unfortunate Tora had from the first felt the deepest 
 aversion to Rendalen's plan ; the ground on which she con- 
 sented to yield was consideration for the school and her 
 friends, that as little shame as possible might fall on them.. 
 They had forborne to mention this, but it forced itself upon 
 them. 
 
 Only in one particular was Rendalen's plan altered — 
 Fru Rendalen would go instead of her son 3 his presence 
 might have produced the very opposite of what they 
 wished. 
 
 Two days after this plan had been conceived — three days 
 after the violent interruption to the lecture — Fru Rendalen 
 and Tora set off. 
 
 On the afternoon of the last day Fru Rendalen had become 
 suddenly very despondent. It was known that there had 
 been some worry about money, but that was always 
 happening ; and, indeed, it had been set right, but, notwith- 
 standing, the gloom did not disappear. Rendalen went to 
 her and tried to find out what it was. She put him off with 
 excuses once or twice, but when he held her fast she was 
 obliged to blurt out that she could not tell him ; it was 
 another person's secret — "not Tora's," she hastened to add.
 
 2S6 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 " Use your own eyes, and then you will not need to tempt 
 me." He did use them, both on man and beast, but found 
 it quite impossible to discover the cause of his mother's low 
 spirits. She carried the secret away with her. He went 
 round and asked everybody, but they were all equally 
 obtuse. 
 
 It made some stir in the town that Fru Rendalen, at this 
 time of year, and in the midst of the school work, should go 
 to Stockholm ; and that if she needed a companion she 
 should have chosen Tora Holm, who was ill. 
 
 Tora Holm's mother announced with some pride that 
 probably her daughter would not return, for if Stockholm 
 seemed to be the best place, she would continue her studies 
 there. Every one had heard that Tora's talents were more 
 than ordinary, so this seemed quite reasonable. 
 
 Fru Rendalen had been up to speak to Sheriff Tue and his 
 wife about Nora. According to her ideas, Nora was cut out 
 for teaching and directing. She became less self-assertive, 
 too, the more responsibility she had, and she had ceased to 
 be capricious. 
 
 Fru Rendalen asked if Nora might not move over to " The 
 Estate," and during her absence overlook the house and 
 school, and take charge of the money and books. Afterwards 
 she might help with them, and perhaps perfect herself in 
 school subjects. Both parents gave their unqualified consent 
 to this at once, they had precisely the same opinion of their 
 daughter as Fru Rendalen. Her father added, smiling, that 
 she seemed to have no notion of falling in love. " No," 
 her mother observed gladly ; " she has no inclination fur 
 marriage." 
 
 At the house and in the school, all thought it strange that 
 the youngest teacher, a pupil a year ago, should be put over 
 them ; but it was certainly true that Nora displayed her best 
 qualities — she was clear-headed, ready, and marvellously 
 helpfuL 
 
 She got on well with Rendalen, he seemed to find 
 pleasure in conversing with her. " Conversing with" is not 
 the right expression — /le talked and she listened, but then 
 be never did otherwise ; he always went away when others 
 joined in. 
 
 Although he was not quite thirt}', he had by degrees 
 acquired a number of curious ways, but each one was the
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 257 
 
 result of something in the development of his character. 
 Had not his fashion of running away from any discussion 
 had its origin in a series of sorrowful experiences ? 
 
 He was making a noble struggle with the bursts of passion 
 which certain things, certain names, always aroused. The 
 result was that whenever he restrained himself, he choked 
 as though he had swallowed something the wrong way ; and 
 if it was very violent, he spat quickly two or three times 
 through his closed lips — not actual spitting, at the most a 
 sort of fine spray. 
 
 Tinka mimicked him incomparably. She made a face 
 over little things as though she had taken too much mustard, 
 for greater ones as though she had swallowed soft soap ; she 
 would turn her head and give a cough like a cat, or if she 
 pretended to spit, it was with an air of disdainful superiority. 
 Very soon all the pupils followed her example — there was 
 nothing they did better. 
 
 At the school, Tomas Rendalen was just what he had been 
 when he first came home — all brightness and life, wonder- 
 fully careful in making all his explanations clear, and often 
 quite fascinating in his manner. 
 
 It must be confessed that he proved a rod in pickle for 
 the teachers, but there was no longer any misunderstanding 
 him, though they were often on pins and needles when he 
 began to interfere ; but it was only necessary to speak to 
 him about it, and he became at once irresistibly charming ; 
 this, however, did not prevent a recurrence. 
 
 His uneven treatment of the children, his way of treating 
 any subject according to the temper of the moment, re- 
 mained unfortunately the same, but it was done uncon- 
 sciously ; and this fact, the absolute justice of his mind, and 
 more than all the frankness with which he begged pardon 
 when he had once been convinced that he was to blame, set 
 things for the most part right again. 
 
 Miss Hall was obliged to confess that she had looked too 
 hardly on this his incorrigible failing, as well as on several 
 others ; for even his admirers had to allow that he was not 
 perfect. For instance, in the face of several classes 
 assembled for a lecture on physics, he would begin to carve 
 a face on the laboratory table, which some chance had 
 begun there, and shortly afterwards would rave like a Turk 
 because a little girl had cut a tiny little name on her desk ! 
 
 R
 
 iSS THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 " Did she think that was what she came to school for? did 
 she suppose her desk was made to be cut to pieces?" 
 
 Fru Rendalen sent word from Stockholm that Fiirst was 
 away, but was to return in a few days, they must therefore 
 wait. She would employ the time in establishing Tora in 
 some respectable family, and in collecting some requisites 
 for the school. They had made the journey slowly, and 
 r-otwithstanding the time of year it had done them both 
 good, as did their stay in Stockholm. The letter was very 
 hopeful, Tora improved every day. Rendalen was enchanted; 
 any one who did not know him would have thought that he 
 looked upon Tora's misfortunes as the greatest good luck. 
 " Now you see," he called out cheerfully whenever he met 
 any of those in the secret. What he meant by it was not 
 very easy to understand. 
 
 But his certainty of victory and that of the others received 
 a serious blow when the report spread about that Niels 
 FUrst was engaged ! and to whom ? To " Your affectionate 
 friend, your ever grateful Milla Engel." 
 
 The report came from Anton Dosen, Niels FiirstV greatest 
 friend ; he did not give it as more than a rumour, but he 
 believed that it was certain. The families on both sides 
 were diplomatic ; they knew nothing about it. 
 
 The members of the Society were a sight to see when they 
 met during this time ! Above all, Tinka Hansen, when she 
 solemnly opened the register and pointed to Milla's name ! 
 She could take her oath that every one looked upon Niels 
 Fiirst as thoroughly immoral. No one had been more 
 severe than Milla; her mother's legacy made this only 
 natural. No, this engagement was impossible ! One could 
 not think so badly of her. Such a thing would be disloyal, 
 both to the living and to the dead. MiUa's different letters 
 to Nora from Paris were now read aloud again. 
 
 She and an American lady were living in a French family, 
 who had had great losses, but who had aristocratic relations 
 and acquaintances ; she lived in a legitimist atmosphere, 
 but it was not too severe. She had both the opportunity 
 and the inclination to admire everything " fine," indepen- 
 dent of religion and politics — everything fashionable, every- 
 thing where talent and beauty were to be found. And she 
 used her opportunity ; " with my enthusiastic temperament, 
 you know," wrote Milla,
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 
 
 259 
 
 She had begun as a loyal member of the Society, the 
 obedient pupil of the school, and therefore gibed at the 
 French spirit. But almost without warning she turned 
 round : paintings, novels, and theatrical representations en- 
 chanted her J life, even when viewed from a distance, stimu- 
 lated her. 
 
 It was evident that this was no real change of opinion ; 
 one heard the American's voice, though the writing was 
 Milla's ; but for this very reason it had not received the 
 attention which it deserved. 
 
 Milla wrote that what they believed when they were to- 
 gether at school would not really do ; her father had been 
 right. In every letter she related something or another 
 which was to prove this — not in the slightest degree in doubt- 
 ful taste ; on the contrary, with a delicacy which was not with- 
 out its talent. " One must have no illusions," she wrote ; 
 " one will thus be least unhappy." Nora had replied, giving 
 her her opinion of it. 
 
 This all now received fresh importance. Was Milla's way 
 of writing something more than the reflection of the life 
 around her ? Was it really a well-considered introduction 
 to her engagement to Niels Fiirst? Impossible ! Nora was 
 above thinking so ill of friends. She had given Tora her 
 solemn promise not to tell anything to Milla; she now con- 
 sidered herself released from it, and wrote out of the fulness 
 of her heart. Tinka wrote as well ; she was full of the offence 
 against Tora, and the report that it was to such a person 
 that Tora's greatest friend had engaged herself — she whose 
 name stood in the register! 
 
 Five days passed before they again received a letter from 
 Fru Rendalen, and it was short and dry. Fiirst had not yet 
 returned. A short time afterwards they received a long and 
 touching letter from Tora, and then several days passed with- 
 out anything further from either of them. Ten days had 
 gone by since Nora and Tinka had written to Milla — they 
 would have sworn that she would have answered at once. 
 She ought to have done so after such a piece of information 
 and such a charge. 
 
 They became very nervous, especially when some one, 
 who had taken no part in the affair, now remarked that, as 
 soon as she had heard that Milla and Fiirst were travelling 
 together, she had thought " that would be a suitable match."
 
 26o THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Of course, this was Anna Rogne : why had she not said 
 anything ? " Because the others would have mistrusted 
 it ; and," she added, smiUng, " it would have been wrong." 
 At last one afternoon, when Nora came in from the singing 
 lesson, she found a sealed envelope on the table in the 
 sitting-room. " Here it is," was written at the bottom in 
 Rendalen's large handwriting. Nora suspected bad news, 
 as he had not brought it to her at once. She had promised 
 the others not to read it before they came, but one cannot 
 keep those sort of promises. 
 
 Fru Rendalen had had her great conversation with Fiirst. 
 He had listened to all she told him with a cool politeness, as 
 if he had been prepared for it, and when at last he had to 
 answer, he began by saying that this was difficult, as their 
 views differed so much as to the person in question. In his 
 eyes Tora Holm was, in no small degree, a sensual woman, 
 who could hardly restrain herself in the neighbourhood of a 
 man. To the question if he were aware of the power which 
 he possessed, he answered " Yes." It only, however, affected 
 a certain description of woman, and Tora was precisely one of 
 these. He was under no more obligation to marry her than 
 any other with whom he had had an intrigue. He would pro- 
 vide for the child, and for her as well, with pleasure — that is 
 to say, he would make a reasonable annual allowance. 
 
 Fru Rendalen threatened to bring the whole thing before 
 his superiors, or even, if necessary, before the King. 
 
 " Pray do ; I can reach as far as you can, Frue." 
 
 She said to him that this would be a hard fight ; to which 
 he answered that he knew how it should be conducted — he 
 was not going to have his career spoilt by a lot of schemers. 
 The lady in question was stamped in good society as a 
 femme entreienue — it was shocking to wish to force her upon 
 him as his wife. 
 
 He understood what it all meant : he was to offer himself 
 up for the school, but he was not inclined to be so amiable. 
 He knew what kind of lectures were given both in the girls' 
 " Society " and elsewhere — what sort of conversations and 
 readings they had had ; it was natural enough that sensual 
 natures should be aroused by such things. He therefore 
 considered that the school should bear the blame; it would 
 have a good deal of that sort of thing. 
 
 Fru Rendalen had a decided impression that something
 
 PEACE-MAKING. 261 
 
 had happened to annoy him, and that, before he came to 
 her, he knew for what he would be called in question. 
 The conversation had so agitated her that she became ill, 
 which was the reason for her not writing sooner. She had 
 not wished to mention her illness until she could say, at the 
 same time, that she was starting the next day. This she 
 could now do. She had not the courage to undertake any- 
 thing more in this strange place, nor did she think it would 
 be wise. As far as she could understand, publicity and open 
 war were just what he wished for. 
 
 He was a dreadful man ; they must all be on their guard. 
 She had no doubt that this would bring their school into 
 danger, and remain a great grief to Tora and her innocent 
 friends. Tora was quite overcome. They both looked 
 forward with dread to the parting to-morrow. 
 
 The letter closed with a lament that this warfare, which 
 had arisen out of the school work, should never have an 
 end. " Our enemies have gained a dangerous ally ; we shall 
 soon see if we have gained any as well." 
 
 Late that evening — Miss Hall, Tinka, and Anna Rogne 
 had all read the letter, and were in the silting-room with 
 Nora — there arrived a telegram. They supposed that it 
 was from Fru Rendalen to Tomas, and Nora had got up to 
 ask one of the servants to take it to him, when Tinka called 
 out that it was not for Rendalen, but for Nora herself. 
 " For me?" asked Nora, and came forward. It was true, it 
 was for her, from Milla. It ran : '"'• Frightful : report untruer 
 
 A fortnight had passed since Nora and Tinka had written 
 Milla had therefore had the letters for ten days, and then 
 sent — a telegram ! What did it mean ? While the others 
 soon forgot it in Fru Rendalen's news, compared to which 
 this last event was comparatively indifferent, Anna Rogne 
 remained sitting with the telegram in her hand. She pon- 
 dered over it. 
 
 The others began to ask themselves whether they alsG 
 would now be mixed up in the Tora scandal. "War" 
 might already be declared. If Niels Fiirst had written to 
 any one in the town and given his version, what would 
 happen ? A time might come when they would hardly dare, 
 any one of them, to show themselves in the streets. 
 
 Anna Rogne interrupted them. *' This telegram ; ought 
 it not to be taken in to Rendalen ? " Yes, of course, and it
 
 262 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 was done at once. They all expected that Rendalen would 
 come to them directly, but they waited in vain ; on the con- 
 trary, they heard him a little time afterwards at the piano. 
 
 " Well, as Rendalen does not seem to pay any attention 
 to this telegram either, perhaps I may be allowed to suggest 
 what may have happened?" asked Anna, rather cere- 
 moniously. The state of things she thought must be that 
 Fiirst and Milla really had been engaged, but that on the 
 receipt of Nora's letter she had at once broken it off, with 
 such an intimation as to make him understand the reason ; 
 that was why he had been prepared to meet Fru Rendalen, 
 that was why he wished for publicity and war. He can 
 never win the day without it, and he must win ; a marriage 
 with the richest girl in any of the coast towns is the condi- 
 tion for the success of his career. Just because Milla had 
 been engaged to him she had been ashamed to write. She 
 had reflected — tried as well, perhaps — until she had found a 
 way out of the difficulty by telegraphing. 
 
 Anna ended by saying, " I suspect that Lieutenant Fiirst 
 is at this moment in Paris." 
 
 It may as well be said at once that Anna's position in 
 regard to Milla was fateful foi the latter. It influenced 
 firstly those whom she was constantly among, later Fru 
 Rendalen. Niels Fiirst really was on the way to Paris, but 
 if Miliars friends had sent on Fru Rendalen's letter to her 
 she would hardly have received him ; and if they had asked 
 Tora to write to Milla — as she at a later time, when it was 
 necessary, wrote to them— he would never have been able 
 to approach her either personally or by letter. Indeed, 
 even as it was he did not do so. He had first to obtain 
 help from home ; but he had taken that into consideration, 
 he had not wasted his time. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WAR. 
 
 The day before Fru Rendalen's letter and Nora's telegram 
 reached " The Estate," Anton Dosen had received a letter 
 from Fiirst. It had been well considered before it was
 
 WAR. 263 
 
 written, and evidently was intended to be read aloud or sent 
 the round of the town. In his narration about Tora he laid 
 great stress upon their meeting at Fru Grondal's. He had 
 only seen her once before, and only in passing ; he had not 
 the slightest idea that he should meet her there. She had 
 been entertaining and pleasant, Fru Grondal had said, 
 until he came, when she became unnatural at once ; she 
 could not bear him to speak to Fru Grondal, she hid herself, 
 and let herself be sought for, and then took it into her head 
 to go away. Of course he followed her, just to see what it 
 was all about. As soon as he came near her on board the 
 boat, she began to cry. She would not let him help her on 
 shore ; but all the same, she walked past his house every 
 day, and peeped in to see if he were at home, and then 
 went on to the wood or up to the " Groves " — alone. He 
 recalled certain readings and lectures up at the school ; it 
 seemed to him that a girl who had come from an atmo- 
 sphere so exciting to the senses, would be sure to conduct 
 herself somewhat in that way. He thought that this was 
 *' magnetic influence " enough, no more was needed. 
 
 He would not deny that at last he had allowed himself to 
 be tempted to follow her into the wood, where she amused 
 herself by playing hide-and-seek with him. Little girls 
 always begin in that way. But he asked if any man, with 
 a regard for himself, would marry a girl who went past his 
 windows every day to tempt him out into the woods. Fru 
 Rendalen thought otherwise. She had come after him to 
 Stockholm to arrange the marriage on the spot. It might 
 have proved like her own. 
 
 For his part, he had far too high a conception of marriage 
 to attempt to profane it in such a way. He had offered to 
 support the girl, at all events as long as the child remained 
 a burden, and he would acknowledge it as his. Honour and 
 
 duty compelled him to go thus far, but further That 
 
 would be to patch a bad business with a still worse one. 
 
 To this every one to whom Dosen read the letter agreed. 
 He read it in the shop, in the streets, at the club. Some 
 people borrowed the letter from him, and although the paper 
 had been carefully chosen, it was passed about so much 
 that it became an illegible rag. Two copies had been 
 made of it, one for Rendalen, at his request, and one — yes, 
 Dosen hesitated a moment about this one, but after repeated
 
 264 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 requests he could not refuse — for Tora Holm's mother. 
 He obtained some enjoyment from this copy. Tora's 
 mother was a violent, powerful woman, embittered in the 
 struggle of life. She looked with doubt and scorn upon 
 most circumstances. When angry she was regardless of 
 consequences. One morning, in the middle of school time, 
 she came up to " The Estate " in a heavy, shabby duffel cloak, 
 a bonnet with bright-coloured feathers, and her bare hands 
 in an old muff, with which she gesticulated while she cried 
 and screamed. In the broadest Bergen accent she demanded 
 her daughter — they must give her back her daughter ; they 
 had ruined her and stolen her. She was a good girl when 
 she went there, but " up here, in the cursed old Kurt house, 
 she had been ruined. Now, God forgive them for it, she 
 was brought to shame, and made the talk of the town. She, 
 her mother, had been stuffed with lies." But they should 
 pay for it ; they should be locked up. She would send the 
 police after them. Her passion was uncontrollable, but her 
 grief was real. 
 
 All fled far and wide, so she burst into one of the classes, 
 which at once broke up, the teacher deserting her post. 
 She contrived to break up three classes in this fashion : 
 she made a tremendous turmoil. Some of the girls were so 
 frightened that they rushed right up to the top attic, and 
 stood there shivering, straining their ears and wonder- 
 ing if they dare go down. Some of the elder pupils, 
 who remembered from stories that on such occasions you 
 must show determination, remained behind, and tried to 
 talk her into reason. But at this she became beside herself. 
 This was evidently an example of the way in which they 
 learned to be indecorous up here. It shocked her that 
 " the children of worthy men " should justify such a thing. 
 They had to run away as well, with their fingers in their ears. 
 
 But the little ones got the greatest amusement out of her. 
 They surrounded her, and followed her about in triumph. 
 The whole procession swept into the kitchen, where she 
 began the same story. The occupants felt sorry for her, but 
 they did not venture to say a word. So the whole train 
 went off again along the hall, to Rendalen's door, which was 
 fastened, then to Karl Vangen's, which was also fastened, 
 back to Fru Rendalen's, which was open. In they went, 
 s'.ie wanted to see if she could not find Rendalen.
 
 WAR, 26s 
 
 Rendalen was in the town, and would not return for an hour. 
 But Karl Vangen came in. He very gravely commanded 
 silence, sent away the children, and took the poor mother 
 into his own room. There she sat for at least an hour, and 
 poured out her heart to him. It was a bewildered tirade, 
 about Tora, about her husband who drank, about their 
 poverty. At last she went away down the avenue, with a 
 hundred kroner in her pocket, weeping quietly. 
 
 The school had all the appearance of a hen-house when 
 some one has broken in upon its denizens. Has not every 
 one seen such a sight ? At first the hens fly with terrified 
 cries against windows, walls, steps and roosting-places, 
 till they become tired and confused, and can fly no more. 
 Then they run about the floor with wilder cries than 
 ever, knocking against dishes, troughs, one another. And 
 when the danger is past, the commotion is not— they 
 chatter, lament, scream all at once, in continual commo- 
 tion. This goes on and increases, for whenever one of 
 them is inclined to stop, some others are more persevering 
 and will not. They recall all the remembrance of their 
 affright, and the whole bevy starts off again worse tlian 
 before. 
 
 Finally, they begin to plume themselves, to flap their wings, 
 and set themselves straight, till at last things return to their 
 original condition. But at the school things did not settle 
 down during the whole day — some effects remained even 
 longer, and threatened to become dangerous. 
 
 What spiteful pleasure was shown in the town, what 
 victorious laughter was heard ! Nothing else was talked of 
 in the offices, on the quays, in the streets ! 
 
 When a day or two later Fru Rendalen returned, the 
 landing-place was crowded with people, mostly young men, 
 who had come to meet her. It became known at the 
 school on Saturday that she would arrive by the steamer 
 on Sunday afternoon. No one could find a better use for 
 his leisure time thm to see how a great person returns 
 from a defeat. 
 
 The scandal, which she had sought to cover by the journey, 
 had now become as great as the journey had been long. 
 When Rendalen came down with the carriage, he could not 
 push his way through, but had to get some one to take 
 charge of it while he tried to get past himself. Nora, Tinka,
 
 266 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Anna, and several other friends, who had talked of going 
 down together, stopped when they saw the crowd ; thus 
 following the example of St. Peter of old, naturally 
 with the difference demanded by modern days. Little 
 Miss Hall alone defied these dangerous warlike prepara- 
 tions. She slipped along till she reached Rendalen's side, 
 just as he was preparing to go on board. He was very 
 nervous. 
 
 Fru Rendalen looked much worn, the glances which she 
 hastily exchanged with Tomas and Miss Hall proved that 
 she understood why the crowd was here, and that she did 
 not feel safe among them. She held her son's arm very 
 fast. 
 
 But respect for her — perhaps, now that they were face to 
 face with her, a feeling of compassion also — prevented them 
 from attempting anything. Way was made for them. Of 
 course they could see by words and manner that this was no 
 guard of honour, even some of their older acquaintances were 
 there, such as the Town Bailiff and his wife. They hardly 
 bowed ; with the sternness of high morality they watched 
 these evil-doers go by. 
 
 Those who had been standing nearest to the quay now 
 made their way towards the carriage, followed by degrees by 
 those whom the three had already passed. The carriage 
 was quite surrounded when they got into it. In consequence 
 of this they had to go slowly, step by step, once more 
 through the crowd, which became more tiresome. They 
 were hardly through before Rendalen whipped up. He 
 was much incensed. At this moment he saw Anton Dosen, 
 with a number of others, hurrying across towards them ; they 
 were flushed and had evidently just come from dinner. 
 They all bowed with immense deference ; either Dosen's bow 
 was impolite, or it appeared so to Rendalen in his irritation. 
 In an instant he pulled up the horses, threw back the 
 reins to Miss Hall, was out of the carriage and up with 
 ^osen, giving him a box on the ear which made him reel. 
 He was back at the carriage, up and off again so quickly, 
 tiiat no one grasped what had happened before the carriage 
 was rumbling over the cobble stones. 
 
 In the hall up at the house stood the three deserters, 
 Tinka, Anna, and Nora. Miss Hall was the first up the 
 steps, and with beaming eyes told them all tliat had hap-
 
 WAR. 267 
 
 pened ; but Fru Rendalen found no pleasure in it. Ren- 
 dalen, too, disappeared as soon as he had brought his mother 
 up ; it was long before he returned, and he was then in low 
 spirits. 
 
 The conversation turned exclusively on the dark point in 
 Tora's story, upon which slie herself had laid but little stress, 
 hardly ever mentioning it — the meeting at Fru Grondal's. 
 It had frustrated any attempt made in the town to lay the 
 blame on Niels Fiirst. Fru Grondal had supported Fiirst's 
 assertions in the most minute particulars. 
 
 Tora Holm had been furiously in love with him, she re- 
 turned to the town merely to get Fiirst to accompany her. 
 
 Fru Rendalen could assure them that the only thing which 
 Tora had been " furious " about was the confidential terms 
 which Fru Grondal and Fiirst were upon. This had put her 
 out all the more perhaps, because she was beginning to feel 
 an interest in him. She understood this later. They all 
 agreed to let Tora herself relate the circumstances. Tinka 
 wrote to her the same evening. 
 
 Rendalen had joined them during this discussion, and now 
 the events of the journey were related and all about Tora. 
 Fru Rendalen was giving them her reading of Tora as she 
 now knew her, and the others were deeply engrossed in it, 
 when Karl Vangen interrupted them ; he came in from 
 church. The meeting between him and his adoptive 
 mother was more than usually warm, she went into his room 
 with him. She did not return. 
 
 The one whom Tora's misfortune had struck the hardest 
 was Karl Vangen, but no one knew this except Fru Ren- 
 dalen. 
 
 He had gone quietly on from day to day, the happiest 
 man in the world. Whenever he met Tora she was evidently 
 pleaded, though lie never ventured to construe this into a 
 sign that she loved him — far from it ; but /le loved her, and 
 thought that if Fru Rendalen would ever help him, the 
 pliable Tora might be brought to share in some of his in- 
 terests. If she came to do that, perhaps she might perceive 
 his great affection for her ; perhaps she might then feel 
 that he would be able to do something to make her happy 
 too. Fru Rendalen had often enough heard him talk to 
 Tora and about Tora, but had suspected nothing till the 
 morning when she told him what had happened. She saw
 
 268 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 him change colour and remain silent instead of expressing 
 sorrow or offering help ; but even then she was not certain, 
 beside which she was much absorbed in her new relations 
 with Tomas. Still she had a dim suspicion of the truth. 
 But when the money v/hich she had reckoned on for the 
 journey could not be obtained, and Karl took her into his 
 own room and offered her his savings and a small sum 
 which he had inherited — then, as he looked into her eyes, she 
 understood it all. He could not keep silence any longer, 
 he held out his arms " Yes, that is how it is, mother." 
 
 " My dear Nora, 
 
 " I do not know what you can think of me for not 
 writing, but your last letter so upset me on account of our dear 
 Tora that I really did not know what to write. How at a loss, 
 how helpless, one feels at such a time, dear Nora ! And, let 
 me add at once, how ashamed. To think that such a thing 
 could happen to any one with whom we have associated ! 
 I shall never forget what my father said the first time he saw 
 her. I was very angry at it then, we thought so highly of one 
 another. Are you quite certain, dear Nora, that everything 
 was exactly as Tora has said ? You know she was never very 
 exact, and, especially in such a case, it seems to me that a 
 person is almost obliged afterwards to put a different colour 
 on it. Do you not think the same ? I will not repeat what 
 I have heard, it may be a mistake too ; but you know your- 
 self, dear Nora, that she never was particular. Do you re- 
 member that once or twice you had to check her when she 
 was telling us stories. You see, she had been in France ; she 
 knew a great deal more than we others. When I recall 
 what she has told me at different times, I feel that it 
 amounted to a great deal. May not some of this have 
 affected her disposition ? Of course, I do not say this as a 
 reproach, least of all could I do so now when she is unhappy, 
 but perhaps this may explain a few thmgs. I am terribly 
 sorry for her, and you would do me a service if you could 
 tell me any way in which I could be of use to her without 
 offending or embarrassing her. I will not answer dear 
 Tinka this time, give her my best love, and say that the ex- 
 pression in her last letter, 'Tora's greatest friend,' is not a 
 true one, at least from my side. It might have appeared so 
 at one time, I do not deny it ; but that was quite and entirely
 
 WAR. 269 
 
 Tora's fault. Not that she forced herself upon me, it would 
 be wrong to say so, but it was impossible, when in her 
 society, not to go too far. I was obliged to make more of it 
 than I wished, and this to the last hour of the last day. 
 
 " Do you know, I had not been three days alone before 
 I began to have a feeling of dislike for her. Perhaps that 
 was bad of me. 
 
 " Her influence over me lasted beyond the time when we ' 
 parted. I did not understand that at once, but I have a 
 proof lying before me — the letter you kindly returned to 
 me ; that one in which I hurriedly scribbled down some- 
 thing about my impressions of Sofiero. I shall keep it, 
 that shall be my punishment. I have just read it through 
 again. You unfortunately have read it also (a thing I shall 
 never forgive myself for) : could you conceive any letter of 
 mine more unlike me ? 
 
 " I don'tknow why, but I see Tora through the whole thing. 
 I can't explain it. I have never been able to write to her 
 since. Here, where everything is more formal, and where 
 there is no room for sentimental confidence, it offends the 
 taste even to be reminded of such a thing. It would almost 
 be like going out before one was coifee and without one's 
 dress. Perhaps I am too severe, the blame for being so must 
 fall on the tone of conversation at home. I am so often re- 
 minded of that unfortunate girl by some Germans here ; they 
 are very like her, though she was the worst I have ever met. 
 
 " Yet how clever she was ! I never have a new dress, 
 or study a pattern, or indeed see any new fashion which 
 interests me, without remembering her. Could she not be- 
 come a milliner? If I could do anything to help her in 
 that direction, it would be a pleasure to me, otherwise what 
 is she to do ? I really am dreadfully sorry for her. 
 
 *' I have lots to tell you, I see something fresh nearly every 
 day ; but this affair of Tora has put me in such a frisfe state 
 of mind that I do not feel inclined to begin anything more 
 cheerful. Poor Tora ! You must give her my love, but 
 don't say anything about what I have written to you in con- 
 fidence, it would wound her without doing good to any of 
 us. Fate has raised a dividing wall between us, so there 
 is no need. Give my love to Tinka, Fru Rendalen, and all 
 who ask after your affectionate, and, in other respects, very 
 happy, " MiLLA Engel."
 
 VII 
 
 THE FIGHT ITSELF
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 
 
 After Milla's letter, Nora disappeared from the sitting- 
 rooms — nay, for several days she was unable to go on with 
 her work ; she was quite overcome. First Tora in her way, 
 now Milla in hers. It was too much for her. She had 
 held the principal place in their mutual life, she had believed 
 all they said, and made herself one with them. 
 
 Latterly she had endured mockery, not least from her 
 father, ever since her presidentship had laid her open to 
 ridicule; she had tried to bear this, but after Milla's letter 
 she gave in. As we know, she hacj every now and then 
 before this time felt her life shallow and superficial. But 
 after this ! Over and over again she reviewed the thoughts 
 and actions of her companions since she had been here. 
 She was confronted everywhere by lofty aims, but lament- 
 able weakness when it came to deeds ; not least in herself. 
 They had all been easily raised to enthusiasm, yet were 
 unutterably volatile, their heads full of nonsense, vanity and 
 jealousy. In many, was an evil desire which befooled them 
 under a thousand disguises. They were disfigured by the 
 instinct, inherited through a thousand years, to submit them- 
 selves to the wishes of the stronger. 
 
 She would no longer be the leader of the Society. She 
 could hardly resolve to remain a member of it. It did no 
 good, and she had more than enough to do for herself, for 
 she saw in herself natural gifts, but no stability. 
 
 *' Genius with disorder," as her father called her mother. 
 Just then the relations between her parents were not good. 
 Nora clung to the school, absolutely hid herself there. 
 
 Christmas came ; she was free and could have gone home, 
 
 S
 
 274 T^HE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS 
 
 but she begged to be allowed to stay. She was very lonely ; 
 Tinka was engrossed withFrederik Tygesen,who was at home 
 for Christmas ; the engagement was now almost openly 
 acknowledged. Anna Rogne was studying philosophy with 
 Rendalen, and was so learned and so happy that she did 
 not at all suit her. Very often, when any one came in, Nora 
 was sitting crying. She had a quick way of brushing away 
 her tears ; her hand moved across her eyes as though she 
 were driving away a fly. Then she would smile cheerfully 
 at whoever came — no matter who it was ; the reason for 
 her distress was evidently not in the house. 
 
 Nora down-hearted ! Nora overcome ! They all knew 
 that that happened occasionally, but now it had continued 
 so long. Of course she was asked about it, but she at once 
 became so high and mighty that no one asked her a second 
 time. 
 
 At last, just after Christmas, came the long-expected 
 letter from Tora. Rendalen invited all her friends in the 
 school to hear it. The beginning of the letter at once 
 explained what they wished to know; it reminded them 
 of something that they recalled at once, but had not up to 
 this time understood ; how Tora had been affected the 
 first time that she and Fiirst met, that morning up at the 
 gymnasium, when she was excited and overdone; how he 
 had walked slowly up, fixing his eyes upon hers and 
 nailed her to the spot, till he stood by her side. The 
 agitated style of the letter, the constant interpolations, 
 re-writings, protestations, gave a striking image of Tora. If 
 she had not always been careful, she was touchingly so now, 
 perhaps just because she knew that, not without grounds, 
 they might be doubtful about her in this particular. Anna 
 Rogne read the letter aloud to them all ; she knew it by 
 heart, and delivered it in a rather precise, but even tone of 
 voice ; thus read, the letter touched them. Its many turns 
 and additions came out oddly. The protestations shone out 
 like sunlight through clouds — one laughed, and was moved 
 at the same time. 
 
 During the reading, Rendalen sat looking at Nora. He 
 had just heard that she would not continue to be the head 
 of the " Society," and he felt that he must break through 
 tl^e restraint which he had put upon himself 
 
 While the others were discussing the letter among them-
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 275 
 
 selves, he sat down near Nora, and talked long and eagerly 
 with her — until some of the others noticed that she often 
 passed her hand across her eyes. The conversation ceased ; 
 looks were turned towards them. Fru Rendalen proposed 
 that they should have some music ; she asked her son to play 
 something. "With pleasure," he said, but remained sitting 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " What should you say to my first endeavouring to combat 
 the depression which often overcomes a woman when her 
 eyes are opened to her inheritance of frailty?" 
 
 Yes, they would all like to hear him. 
 
 He said he had been reminded that evening of how, more 
 than a year ago, he had spoken at a meeting of the Society 
 in a very desponding manner on heredity. This had really 
 only arisen from a feeling of depression. His opinion of 
 heredity was simply this, that one inherited quality combats 
 another. One need not be so desponding. In the course of 
 time all families are so mixed together that any legacy of 
 evil (which one must strive to reduce to impotence) has 
 almost always beside it a legacy of good which may be 
 strengthened by use. That is to say, never be guided by 
 chance, but let the teacher first, and ourselves afterwards, 
 be watchful betimes. 
 
 He was so imbued with the subject that he was able, on 
 the spot, to give a number of historical examples. He 
 added others to them, gathered from his own and others' 
 experience. The question had occupied him from his boy- 
 hood. In his own family there was a predisposition to 
 insanity. Every case which he could trace showed plainly 
 that only when the weakness which led to insanity had been 
 allowed to increase, did this infirmity break out. When this 
 weakness was opposed by the intermixture of fresh blood, 
 by education and self -education, that person was saved for 
 his work in life. Heredity was not a destiny, but a condition. 
 
 It was sometimes said that knowledge and surroundings 
 were no help. But what did the letter tell us which had just 
 been read ? First, most distinctly, that Tora had an inherited 
 weakness; next, that if Miss Hall had given her lecture four 
 months sooner, Tora at any rate would have been saved, 
 *' So we may well say, ' Help one another,' by knowledge and 
 fearless counsel. Wonian has been condemned to isolation. 
 Man has sought fellowship and knowledge. Only by fellow-
 
 276 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 ship will women teach each other to fight for their own 
 cause. 
 
 " ' The inward development,' is subject to crises, and then 
 intercourse is burdensome ; with this each one must deal 
 as she can. But there is no doubt that we advance our 
 inward development only by doing our duty." 
 
 That was all ; but fi-om it, and the conversation which 
 succeeded it, was formed, from that evening, the strongest 
 bond of union among all the women who, in the time that 
 followed, supported the cause of the school in the town. 
 From this evening also dated the influence of the "Society" 
 over the school; all discords were subdued before they 
 came to the teachers' ears. Even before this the members 
 of the " Society" were accustomed to go into the different 
 classes to help the more backward pupils before lessons 
 began. This had given them an influence of which they 
 made use. Again, from this evening dated — and in the 
 long run this was the best of all — Rendalen's lectures in the 
 cnapel up on the mountain. Every Saturday evening he 
 explained the laws of natural history, illustrating them with 
 pictures and experiments ; and every Sunday evening gave 
 sketches of the history of civilisation, when pictures were 
 also exhibited. Niels Hansen defrayed the preliminary 
 expenses, and was always present. Rendalen had begun 
 this partly to gain partisans. He would not " Hang in the 
 wind." But when once he had begun, he became interested 
 in the task which lay before him, and persuaded Miss Hall 
 to lecture every Sunday, between three and four, to the 
 women there. Miss Hall elected to speak alternately on 
 the diseases of children and those of women. She had an 
 immense audience, and this was greatly owing to the fact 
 that the quick witted young lady at once declared that these 
 diseases, both in women and children, had in no small 
 degree the same origin — men's immoral lives. 
 
 But to return to this evening. There, are times when 
 human wills, with the projects they have formed, readily 
 unite themselves as though there had never been doubt or 
 separation — a harvest full of promise for a future seed-time. 
 Such a time at *' The Estate " was that evening of the twenty- 
 ninth of December. The day was remembered, and often 
 mentioned at a later time. They did not separate till past 
 midnight, and the departing guests sang as they went down 
 the avenue.
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 277 
 
 As Fru Rendalen was undressing she heard, to her 
 astonishment, Tornas going out ; she half opened the 
 door. 
 
 " My dear boy, where are you going ? " 
 
 " It is such splendid starlight." 
 
 Fru Rendalen could not be called romantic ; she went to 
 the window and peered out from behind the curtain ; yes, it 
 was starlight, quite so. There are so many things that a school- 
 mistress has to think of, that there is no time left for the 
 stars. Yet the tone in which he spoke of hem! Tomas 
 had not for some time seemed so happy as this evening. 
 He had never before stayed with them the whole time, till 
 past midnight I He really was beginning to take root, or 
 was it through combativeness? He was terribly like the 
 Kurts. 
 
 " Fru Rendalen ? " 
 
 " Good gracious 1 " 
 
 " It is only I." 
 
 " Why, my dear Nora, are you not in bed ? I am coming 
 to the door. What! you are still dressed ? " 
 
 " It is such lovely starlight." 
 
 " Tomas has gone out." 
 
 " Yes, I h°ard him. Oh, Fru Rendalen ! " 
 
 " What is it, my dear ? Excuse me, I am going to get 
 into bed. That's it 1 " 
 
 " I am so happy." 
 
 "Are you? That's right; you were so unhappy a little 
 while ago." 
 
 " All that Rendalen said " 
 
 " Yes, he was capital this evening." 
 
 " Fru Rendalen, do you think I might thank him for it ? 
 Might I venture?" 
 
 " Why, of course ! What do you mean, my dear ? " 
 
 " I could not rest till I had written " 
 
 " Written ? When you live in the same house- 
 
 I thought I would get it sent to him this evening." 
 "To-night, you mean ; you can wait just as well till to- 
 morrow, my dear, and then you can say it to him. You 
 know Tomas is peculiar." 
 
 " But this evening he is in a good humour, eh ?" 
 " You want to take a letter into his room ? " 
 '•' Oh, no ; not I myself. Fancy if Pastor Vangen were to 
 come, or Rendalen himself I"
 
 478 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 " Would you like me to ? " 
 
 " Dear Fru Rendalen ! " 
 
 " Get me my spectacles, and let me see." 
 
 " Here they are." 
 
 Fru Rendalen read : 
 
 " Herr Rendalen, 
 
 " I cannot go to bed without thanking you. I did not 
 want you to think I did not wish to do so. I did not find 
 an opportunity for it. Thank you. 
 
 " Most humbly, 
 
 '* Nora Tue." 
 
 Fru Rendalen's bed creaked; she got up. 
 
 "I will put it on his table by the candle. Have you 
 the envelope? There, that's all right. Have you direcie 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Just give me my skirt and slippers — that's it. It was 
 pretty of you, Nora. Yes, he was very good this evening : 
 thats it ; " and she trotted off. 
 
 As she again got into bed she said : " But, Nora, why did 
 you not thank him at once ? " 
 
 Instead of answering, Nora put her head down to Fru 
 Rendalen, kissed her a good-night, and went lightly off. 
 She turned back. " Shall I put out your candle ?" 
 
 *' No ; good-night, my dear." 
 
 The winter passed by, and they began to hope that the 
 war might pass off as well, as it had done before. 
 
 But when minds are excited they require but little to aid 
 them. The political strife was now at its height ; the 
 so-called people's party had started a newspaper; the 
 Spectator seemed to them to have attained the measure 
 of iniquity. Between this paper and the new one, the 
 Independence, a fierce antagonism quickly arose, which be- 
 came most trying to the nerves. 
 
 In the spring, on Rendalen's birthday, the " Society " 
 hit upon the unlucky idea of having a large flag-staff set up 
 on the tower, from which waved, on the great day, an 
 enormous Norwegian flag without the " Union." The girls 
 had never thought about the old quarrel over the flag, but
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 279 
 
 Rendalen had shown the whole school pictures of the flags 
 of all nations, and explained to them that, from old times, the 
 Union was only used by States which were incorporated one 
 in the other, such as Scotland and Ireland with England, 
 or the United States of America, and this was what the 
 world understood by a Union, notwithstanding the differing 
 colours of the two flags. " Thus a Union gave us, the 
 smaller country, the appearance of having been incor- 
 porated into Sweden." 
 
 This flag was looked upon as a demonstration ; it was 
 *' bringing poUtics into the school." Rendalen forbade its being 
 again hoisted ; he wished to avoid new quarrels. But this was 
 of no avail ; angry spirits were roused ; all the old accusations 
 were gone over again in the columns of the Spectator and at 
 the club. The Town Bailiff suddenly came forward with a 
 gift of five thousand kroner to found a new school without 
 politics,with unbiassed instruction, without a method whicli 
 was antagonistic to morality. The donor, he said, wished 
 the gift to be anonymous. He had been most decided on 
 that point. 
 
 The Town Bailiff and his wife each added one thousand 
 kroner. It was he who had before proposed that a new 
 school should be started ; now he came prominently forward; 
 he had been scandalised. The anonymous gift was pre- 
 cisely the same sum as that given by Fru Engel. Was 
 Consul Engel the donor? Several amounts were subscribed 
 on the spot, but they were not large. 
 
 Tomas Rendalen at once put himself up for the club, 
 as did several of his friends, Karl Vangen and Niels 
 Hansen among them. All these were elected at a very full 
 meeting, Niels Hansen, however, with only a small majority; 
 the club was partly built on his ground, and it was thanks 
 to this that he was elected at all. Rendalen's election, on 
 the contrary, was left open. It is true that the rules de- 
 clared that every admission should be decided at the first 
 meeting, but happily there were a number of lawyers present, 
 and this rule was so construed that it was decided that first 
 really meant next. 
 
 The next meeting was largely attended. The Town Bailiff 
 opened it with the astounding declaration that Rendalen 
 must be kept out, for " peace " sake. 
 
 A number of men had been sent to this meeting by their
 
 28o THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 respective wives to vote for Rendalen, and one of these 
 obedient husbands made the mild remark that "peace" 
 had aheady been disturbed by the Town BaiUff's proposal. 
 The last-named gentleman became so exasperated at this 
 that he would not continue, and Consul Engel's solicitor, 
 the best speaker in the town, found it necessary to come to 
 his assistance. His name was Bugge, and he was extremely 
 eloquent. Several solicitors followed him, and all talked 
 more or less about peace, morals, and Christianity — subjects 
 which they, at all events, knew by hearsay. 
 
 Karl Vangen asked what on earth these great questions 
 had to do with the matter in hand, whether Rendalen should, 
 or should not, be a member of a social club ? But Karl 
 Vangen had hardly stood up before the Town Bailiff pulled 
 a long Hst out of his pocket. He asked if he might put 
 some questions to Pastor Vangen ? 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 " First question — Is it true that Herr Rendalen has said 
 
 that history cannot well be taught to people who believe 
 
 that the world began as Paradise and its inhabitants as 
 
 perfect beings ? " 
 
 L Breathless silence. Karl Vangen began a little hesitatingly : 
 
 " Yes, that is true, but " 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but I have the word," interrupted 
 the Town Bailiff. 
 
 "No," observed one of the "husbands"; "Pastor Vangen 
 
 undoubtedly has the word. It was he who was interrogated." 
 
 Hereon there was a great uproar ; the real men were, 
 
 Heaven be praised, in the majority; the "husbands" had 
 
 by no means such strong throats. 
 
 " Second question — Is it true that Rendalen has said " 
 
 " But dear me !" called out Niels Hansen ; " is Rendalen 
 to join the club to be confirmed?" 
 
 A roar of laughter followed. The whole room, without 
 distinction of parties, gave way to immense merriment. 
 The Town Bailiff paused. As soon as peace was restored, 
 
 he began again. " Second question — Is it true " The 
 
 laughter began again, worse than before. The Town 
 Baihfif stopped abruptly, and left the room : Karl Vangen 
 now began. His friend Rendalen was of the opinion that 
 history lessons ought conscientiously to describe all move- 
 ments just as they were, and therefore the development of 
 
 1
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 281 
 
 Christianity as well ; but to describe the life of mankind as a 
 work of God's dispensation belongs to Church history. 
 
 "Is he not a Christian, then?" asked Bugge. 
 
 " We have nothing to do with that here," called out Niels 
 Hansen. 
 
 " Is he not a Christian ? " repeated Bugge. 
 
 " No, he is not a Christian," answered Vangen, colouring 
 Hke a little boy. 
 
 " The blockhead," muttered Niels Hansen, and he left too. 
 
 " Then he has deceived us," shouted Bugge. 
 
 "He should have said that from the first," observed another. 
 
 Several shouted at once. There was disturbance, noise, 
 delight. All the " husbands " were frightened, and held 
 their tongues. 
 
 A quiet, well-to-do man stood up: "Yes, I could almost 
 have guessed that Rendalen was not a Christian. Women to 
 take the same position as men, that is against Christianity." 
 
 Pastor Vangen then again came forward, and he now spoke 
 warmly. Rendalen's actions had been perfectly honourable. 
 So long as Christianity supports mankind's moral conscious- 
 ness, every school director should see that it was given to the 
 children, as truly and heartily as possible. And it was thus 
 that Rendalen had acted. It was only to be lamented that 
 his instrument was so feeble, for that instrument was him- 
 self. But he could assure the meeting that he had full 
 opportunity of doing all of which he was capable. 
 
 This made a good impression, and for a moment it seemed 
 as though the discussion would end there. But the man 
 who had spoken before, again rose ; it was evident that it 
 was a serious matter with him. " If Tomas Rendalen had 
 said this when he gave a lecture up at the gymnasium two 
 years ago— if he had said, ' I am not a Christian' — there would 
 have been no school." 
 
 At the moment Karl Vangen could not think of any reply 
 to this ; it almost seemed to him to be true. The voting 
 began immediately, and Rendalen was refused admittance 
 by an overwhelming majority. 
 
 " Not," as Bugge observed, " because Rendalen did not 
 believe, for they were tolerant there, but because he had not 
 behaved honourably." 
 
 As soon as he could do so, Rendalen gathered his friends, 
 and any others who liked to join them, at a m£eting at the
 
 282 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 gymnasium. It was a very full one. This was a fight which 
 every one understood, and in which most of them took an 
 interest. As well as this, the special woman-question was 
 far more opened up than it had been two years ago ; 
 Rendalen was able to speak quite freely. He began by 
 declaring that religion had been made use of as a " last 
 resort." He had been expecting it for a long time. The 
 audience was given an amusing description of the moral 
 and Christian responsibility of the club, enveloped in clouds 
 of tobacco smoke round the card-tables and punch-bowls, 
 and of the virtue of the men, which consisted in a strong 
 demand for virtue — in women, which was an advantage for 
 themselves. 
 
 A work to obtain equality between men and women could 
 not be called " Enmit) to Christianity." Therefore notorious 
 interpolations of Judaism into Christianity ought not to be 
 sanctioned. If this were done, and the views of woman's 
 position two thousand years ago in Judea were sanctioned — 
 well, in that case, he could tell the Christians that they did 
 not thus destroy the claims of the present day, but themselves. 
 There was no help which he desired so much as that of 
 serious Christians. He considered, too, that the Christian 
 who had no reactionary aims must range himself here with 
 the great French pastor, Pressense. 
 
 As a teacher of history, he had himself endeavoured to 
 point out trustworthily the works of Christianity. As a 
 teacher of natural science, on the contrary, he could not 
 disguise the fact that divers new discoveries were in oppo- 
 sition to the Jewish traditions; an honest teacher of natural 
 science in most Christian schools must find himself in the 
 same case. But the principal dogmas — the belief in God and 
 salvation through Christ — remain unmoved. 
 
 The Christian beliefs of the school were unfettered, and 
 directed by a clergyman, whom they all highly respected. 
 He was clearly in his rights when he demanded that his 
 private beliefs should be left out of the question. Indeed, it 
 was his duty to demand this where the question was notori- 
 ously merely introduced for the sake of making confusion. 
 
 This time the current of opinion against the school was 
 divided by a brisk counter-current. It was a good sign that 
 Miss Hall's public lectures at the school were still well 
 attended. 
 
 {
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 283 
 
 But what would Rendalen, or his eager opponents, have 
 said, if they had known that the whole movement, from the 
 moment the flag was hoisted, had been directed from out- 
 side? That the best contributions to the Spectator had 
 never once been written in the town? That the Town 
 Bailiff was a tool in a light but skilful hand ? That the five 
 thousand kroner which had so animated his faculties and 
 morality, and those of his wife, had not come from Consul 
 Engel at all ? What would the Town Bailiff, what would 
 lawyer Bugge and his colleagues have said, if they had known 
 that the famous anonymous donor, who had called forth 
 their eloquence, was a rascal who had carefully reckoned on 
 the certainty of these men behaving as they had done, if they 
 believed Consul Engel to be the donor? What would all 
 these worthy men and women, who were fighting for 
 morality and Christianity — what would they have said if they 
 had known that at Stockholm there was a man who reckoned 
 on their zeal and strong prejudices, as well as on the cringing 
 and shrewdness of others, with the same sense of superiority 
 with which we use the wide powers of Nature for the 
 accomplishment of our own ends. But the force of opposi- 
 tion could not be accurately measured from a distance ; 
 where women are concerned, it is never easy to calculate ; 
 notwithstanding these great exertions, the amount subscribed 
 was small, very, very small. 
 
 A mine must therefore be laid, and some of this opposi- 
 tion blown up. And this was done. The report of Niels 
 Fiirst's engagement to Milla Engel had died out; it was 
 now renewed, and, with it, the exasperation of the whole 
 woman's party. Angry, scornful remarks were flung over 
 the whole town from Rendalen's circle ; they stabbed and 
 wounded both the families, Fiirst's and Engel's. Consul 
 Engel was especially ofi'ended by Rendalen having said, 
 " All the Consul's mistresses ought to attend on the wed- 
 ding-day as bridesmaids." Engel gave Rendalen to under- 
 stand that till then he had held himself aloof from the busi- 
 ness. Now, if the wedding took place, the new school 
 should be remembered both as regarded a house and funds. 
 
 The person who brought this information to Rendalen 
 received out of hand for answer : " Yes, it is wise of the 
 Consul to put //before it, for there is not a church in the 
 town in which Milla Engel will dare to be married to Niels
 
 284 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 Fiirst." This was really going too far ; other people sa\v 
 this beside the Consul. He now felt himself compelled to act. 
 
 The fact was that Milla had not engaged herself again to 
 Niels Fiirst — the report was untrue, a mere trick. Up to 
 this time the Consul had not mixed himself in the matter ; 
 in such affairs one must be circumspect. He had contented 
 himself by sending her cuttings from the Spectator, small 
 reports, stories, and so on. He had also asked others to 
 write ; she no longer corresponded with any one at "The 
 Estate." Now, however, the Consul wrote to her himself. 
 He was so fortunate as to be able to send her a cutting 
 from a Lutheran weekly paper, in which a highly esteemed 
 clergyman analysed the proposition that women have the 
 same right to demand chastity from men, as men have from 
 women : the decided logical result of his analysis being 
 that the proposition was unchristian. 
 
 " And now," wrote her father, " what further objection 
 can there be? You love Niels Fiirst ? If there is any con- 
 dition which you wish to make in regard to your marriage, 
 name it, my child. The consideration which you and I 
 possess demands that you should be married in accord- 
 ance with our position in your native town." 
 
 Milla complied. If her dear mother's favourite clergy- 
 man, old Dean Green, who had carried her mother's gift to 
 the school, would perform the ceremony, he himself, her 
 father, might fix the wedding-day at once. So old Green, 
 the most respected man in the town, was to give his coun- 
 tenance to their side ? The Consul felt that this was highly 
 improbable. He wrote to Niels Fiirst, that now he had but 
 little hope. 
 
 Fiirst was not of the same opinion. Most old people 
 incline towards compromise. He gave some instructions to 
 his brother-in-law, and, after the latter had paid a visit to 
 the Dean, Fiirst wrote to the Consul that, after all, things 
 might be more hopeful than he had imagined. The Consul 
 was off at once. It may well be that he was astonished 
 when the old man said decidedly that the attacks on the 
 school ought now to end. A peculiar smile passed over 
 the Consul's face as he lamented that he did not possess 
 sufficient influence. The old man met smile with smile ; 
 there was no need for influence, he believed. And thus 
 the matter rested.
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 285 
 
 It was on a Friday morning that printed invitations were 
 sent out to Consul Engel's friends, in this and the neigh- 
 bouring towns, asking them to honour him by their presence 
 at his daughter's marriage with Lieutenant Niels Fiirst. 
 
 The wedding was fixed for the following Monday week, 
 at four o'clock in the afternoon, at the Cross Church. It 
 was being hurried on. 
 
 To a few of his oldest friends the Consul added in writing 
 that the spiritual guide of his family, his beloved wife's friend, 
 Dean Green, would do the young people the honour of 
 uniting them. 
 
 On the same day, about dinner-time, the Consul walked 
 along the quays just as all the business men were coming to, 
 or from, them. Every one greeted him with beaming faces 
 and with great cordiality, and those who were sufficiently 
 intimate pressed his hand laughingly. 
 
 Every one had been annoyed that Rendalen should wish 
 to prescribe who was or was not to marry — precisely like 
 Max Kurt in the old days — he, a miserable fellow, crippled 
 with debts, with a great school which might tumble about 
 his ears any day. The news of the wedding, and that Dean 
 Green was to perform the ceremony, was carried by Saturday's 
 steamers up and down the coast ; it sprang ashore on the 
 islands, was heard at the watering-places, and slipped away 
 through the woods far inland. It brought excitement every- 
 where. One party rejoiced ; the other was immensely 
 scandalised. But there was not a woman in either party who 
 did not declare that she should go to the town for the day 
 to see it all. The children begged to go too. Mimic 
 weddings took place in the " Groves " and about on the rocks, 
 where an old Dean Green, in a short frock and with bare 
 arms, intoned the service over the bridal pair in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 Somewhat more laggardly the news came that the donor 
 of the five thousand kroner to the new school had withdrawn 
 his gift ; that Consul Engel had condemned all the uproar 
 about the school ; if it were carried further, he would be 
 obliged to support the recipients of his wife's legacy : her 
 memory demanded no less of him. 
 
 Had a compromise been effected ? Was Milla to return 
 home as the Angel of Peace ? 
 
 Some people were incensed ; some laughed ; some few,
 
 286 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 including the Town Bailiff, would not give in j but how could 
 a new school be started without Consul Engel? And when 
 in cold blood the advantages were considered, who did not 
 at last wish for peace ? The daughter of the school's 
 benefactress married to Niels Fiirst — that was in itself 
 victory, and that sufficed. One or two marriages of this 
 sort, especially amongst the most advanced pupils at the 
 school, and the good old constitution, the good old distribu- 
 tion of virtue and authority between the sexes, would remain 
 unshaken. Rendalen, the Society, and Miss Hall might 
 stick to their views if they liked. Tora was never mentioned 
 now. 
 
 Mi 11a 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 com- 
 mand, 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
 
 IN BOTH CAMPS. 287 
 
 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 mass 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 con- 
 vinced 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 space 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 hps quivering, 
 and trembling in every limb. She who was ordinarily so 
 .self-contained, was in a state of nervous excitement.
 
 288 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 "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 shore, leaning on her father's arm, though still 
 pale and trembling slightly, she could smile from under her 
 coquettish hat as she passed in her charming traveUing 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 Fiirst'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 1 
 
 At a little'past two the next morning a skyss kierre* 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 n. 
 
 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 passages, left it 
 on the steps, pushed it under the gates. They must hurry 
 on ! The church was full long ago ; by this time the market- 
 place was packed from one end to the other. 
 
 * Hired posting carriage.
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 289 
 
 When the worthy burghers returned hoaie and found the 
 Spectator, they read the following: — "As we go to press 
 our town presents a most festal appearance. Naval Lieute- 
 nant Niels Fiirst and Froken Eiiiilie 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 fiimilies 
 who have the means are now enjoymg 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 con- 
 siderable 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 xMaternity Hospitalthe 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 pufif stirred the flags, and 
 each time they blew out they formed a mass 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, 
 
 X
 
 290 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 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. Every- 
 thing 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 market-place, 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 grass 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 pedes- 
 trians; 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 approach- 
 ing it from the sea, to rear itself from the water like an ant- 
 hill, but the resemblance was spoiled as one came nearer, 
 although its small liouses still looked like linen and stock- 
 ings put out to dry. Close by, it became a curious breed- 
 ing place for human sea-birds. All the children of the 
 upper classes 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 glass in the great red brick build- 
 ing shone in the sunlight, but no flag was hoisted. As late as 
 half-past three, Consul Engel, smoking a cigar, went up to
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 291 
 
 the top attic, to see if the flag were hoisted ; EmiUe was just 
 coming down the attic stairs ; she was fully dressed, except 
 that she still wore \^qx 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 that 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 God'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 3 some- 
 thing 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 Niels Fiirst's bachelor life were 
 recalled — that is to say, those whicn related to that part of 
 the country ; as a general thing, people would say what a 
 devil of a fellow Niels Fiirst 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 passed for his, and
 
 292 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 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 beau- 
 tiful funeral filled the minds of ail. 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. Fiirst had arrived on Saturday 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 aban- 
 doned. Milla felt especially grateful for this promise of 
 her father. Why should not they all be friends together ? 
 *' That is what we shall be," Fiirst had assured 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 hei 
 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 1 "
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 293 
 
 Her father had never been so loving to her as now. His in- 
 creasing 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. 
 Fiirst 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 ; Fiirst 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 will- 
 ingly 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 — no- 
 thing 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
 
 294 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 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 end- 
 less 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 
 
 v/as because Fru Wingaard was the patroness — she had 
 wheedled it out of him, the minx ! 
 
 On either side of the steps, each one the centre of a group, 
 stood those two sisters of doubtful character who had kept 
 the club and the hotel until they had been obliged to relin- 
 quish them in favour of Engel's housekeeper. They least 
 of all had reason to spare Engel or his guests for the day, 
 the magnates of the coast towns. 
 
 Nearest to these stood another knot of women who had 
 not had so much time to find places. There were few para- 
 sols here, but bonnets and aprons, and some of the younger 
 ones even bareheaded. There was whispering, tittering, and 
 
 giggling ! 
 
 No solemnity, no gravity, no authority, not the least what 
 is usual in a provincial town. Even where the darker groups 
 of men were collected, there was no seriousness or " de- 
 corum," as the Town Bailiff would have said, and indeed as 
 he did say when, at a quarter before four, he joined the guests, 
 in full uniform, and with his wife on his arm. The guests 
 indulged in witticisms and laughter, the result of which was 
 not impressive; all the people looked at them with amused 
 glances as though they were comrades. The town was un- 
 recognisable. When two boys contrived to clamber on to 
 the chimney of one of the houses opposite the church, all 
 clc-pped their hands and shouted. This had just occurred 
 as the Town Bailiff arrived. Amid the guests immediately 
 following him came the organist, very drunk. He was a 
 young Swabian, who three or four years ago came to the town 
 in the course of a musical tour, and there remained. The 
 then organist had recently died — the organ was a marvellous 
 one; beside which there was excellect sea-bathing. He was 
 a soft, fantastic, thoroughly musical man, who as a rule was 
 every one's favourite, and who had more to do than he could 
 manage, but who on a holiday " Wenn Konstantinople erobei
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 295 
 
 ■warden ischf" as he expressed himself, got drunk. This 
 occurred but seldom, but when it was the case he did any- 
 thing which took his fancy. 
 
 This culminated when one day a home missionary was 
 speaking from the chancel steps on the subject of sin, and 
 the organist, noticing that every one was yawning, began to 
 play the organ till it roared ! It was pretended that the 
 missionary made such very long pauses that the organist had 
 been misled by the longest of them. 
 
 To-day he had conceived the happy idea of going gaily to 
 Consul Engel, and asking him for some money for the organ, 
 and he received a cheque on the spot. So " KonstauH/wple " 
 had '■'■ erobet worden'^ again, and champagne corks flew! 
 Who liked might drink with him. He came up, beaming 
 with happiness and swinging his arms about. Every one 
 laughed, and he laughed with them. He arrived just after 
 the Town Bailiff and his wife. They looked as stiff as 
 though the organist had yoked them and was driving them 
 into the church. Great commotion was now caused by an 
 attempt to drive a carriage through the crowd. Up to this 
 time every one had come on foot. There was no room for 
 carriages here, they cried, and turned sullen; the police had 
 to interfere. In the carriage sat a pretty lively lady of un- 
 certain age, by the side of a somewhat stout gentleman with 
 a remarkably shaped head and a supercilious expression. 
 Facing the lady sat an older man with a red face, heavy 
 moustache and imperial, and wearing a number of orders; he 
 talked incessantly, as though they were all three in a closed 
 room where no one could see them. They did not belong to 
 the town; no one knew them until the carriage-door was opened, 
 and the man with the orders led the lady forward. Then 
 the hotel-keeper's wife said that he was a Consul-General 
 from Christiania ; the lady was not his wife, but that of the 
 gentleman who was walking beside them — Consul Garman, of 
 the firm of Garman and Worse. Soon after these arrived 
 two other strangers, Consuls Bernick and Riis. The first 
 named invariably attended funerals with a stick in his hand ; 
 the other always wore his order of St. Olaf when he went to 
 a ball. Several important magnates followed ; some with 
 their wives, some without — millionaires in the herring, timber, 
 or ice trade. The monotony of the black coats was broken 
 by the full uniform of the Sheriff — he wag without his wife, and
 
 296 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 in company with a gouty old General, a relation of Fiirst. 
 Besides these, there were Government officials and merchants 
 mingled together, most of them with their wives, who hung 
 on their husbands' arms like well-filled costly baskets ; the 
 husbands were quite eclipsed. Absolute silence gradually 
 spread upwards from the lower end of the market-place, 
 like oil over troubled waters. The bride2;room was alight- 
 mg from his carriage, accompanied by his brother-in-law, 
 Consul Wingaard. From another carriage descended two 
 naval officers and two civilians, one of whom was Anton 
 Dosen ; these four joined the others. 
 
 All the special manoeuvres which had brought about that 
 Fiirst should to-day approach the Cross Church through 
 the crowd, admired or envied, accompanied or shunned, 
 had been carried out by himself, and up to the present time 
 he had earned the honoured reception of a victor. Still he 
 did not advance with a victor's step — a child could see that 
 at the first glance. He walked forward in the deadliest fear. 
 Tora had never shown herself, had sent neither message nor 
 letter. Neither she nor any of her friends had once been 
 near Consul Engel's house. It was evident that she had not 
 come to talk Emilie over, or to frighten her. What had she 
 come for? What did Rendalen's threat mean ? There was 
 danger until he was inside the church ; then the sanctity of 
 the building, and the respect due to the old clergyman, must 
 
 protect him. But here ! His eyes wandered up to the 
 
 wooded slope above " The Estate." It was an involuntary 
 action. It was not there, but here, that she might appear. 
 She or others. She was not the only one. 
 
 His half closed eyes searched about, his bronzed face was 
 without movement — those strings which moved his lips must 
 have broken ! There was no smile now. His fair whiskers 
 hung down and seemed to lengthen his face. 
 
 The gait of this dandy had an air of painful caution — 
 each step might lead to disaster. If it did not fall on him, 
 it might await her who would soon follow him. There were 
 sparkling eyes all round and many sharp ones, but no one 
 whom he feared. He was taller than the women ; he could 
 Fee for a good distance, and he looked from side to side — 
 nothing ! 
 
 He had just put his foot on the first step when the tall 
 sailor stepped forward :
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 297 
 
 "Ane Marja sends you her compliments." 
 
 Those who stood nearer heard it ; some who were farther 
 away saw the movement. 
 
 '* Did he say something? What's he say.?" 
 
 Sibilations whistled across ; to those who were furthest 
 away it sounded like es-s-s-s-s-s-s-s all round the church. 
 
 Fiirst stood still : his eyes contracted as though fine dust 
 had been thrown into his face ; his gloved hand sought for 
 his handkerchief, from which scent was wafted; he blew his 
 nose, and walked on, his friends following him. Within it 
 seemed dark after the bright sunshine outside, but in the 
 darkness were eyes, women's eyes ! 
 
 Here sat Tora's friends. He knew every one in the town 
 by sight, and picked them out one by one. They sat quite 
 in front, excited, restless, threatening. There must be some- 
 thing after all. The great church bell began to ring at that 
 moment, and the bride's carriage was seen at the end of the 
 market-place. What would happen now ? 
 
 Nora, Tinka, and Anna Rogne were on Fiirst's left as he 
 walked up to the chancel. He glanced involuntarily to the 
 opposite side ; the first seat was vacant. Every one in the 
 chancel rose as the bridegroom appeared. 
 
 There was a stir outside, not merely because the bride's car- 
 riage had arrived followed by those of the bridesmaids and Fru 
 Wingaard, but because the coachman in grey livery wanted to 
 drive up to the church door, which seemed impossible. Those 
 in front pressed back to make room, but those behind 
 declined to be pushed against, and exerted their strength, 
 till several people were forced up against the carriage win- 
 dows. Shrieks, angry words, and orders ensued, and alarm 
 inside the carriages. luigel put his head out of the window, 
 but no one listened to him, and he got out of the carriage. 
 The police were at hand, and eagerly cleared a way for the 
 wealthy magnate, while the bride alighted, as did the brides- 
 maids ; they arranged themselves and walked forward, not 
 where the others had passed ; the crowd made way for them 
 in all directions. 
 
 Her red-gold hair crowned with myrtle, the bride resembled 
 the most exquisite work of an English Academician. The 
 lines of her face were regular and of an English type, the 
 colouring soft, the skin very white; the shoulders rather 
 sloping, beautiful — the figure that of a soft delicate young girl.
 
 298 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 She walked forward with her head bent, not looking at 
 any one, her hand resting lightly on her father's arm ; just 
 below the level of his order of St. Olaf could be seen her 
 diamond ornament, though only by those just before or just 
 above them. An old-fashioned brooch, a valuable one, 
 which was recognised as having been a favourite of her 
 mother, secured the flowers in front of her dress. A puff 
 of wind raised her veil just as they came up the steps ; it 
 streamed out into the face of the sailor, but did not touch 
 it; a delicate perfume was spread in all directions. How 
 relieved Engel felt as he stood inside the door ! That had 
 been the worst journey he had ever made in his life. Still 
 he had not hurried ; unobtrusive, quiet, benign, he had 
 walked forward ; he kept his eyes fixed on one point — was 
 that the needle's eye which must be passed through ? 
 
 His handsome regular features looked as though they had 
 never been disturbed by any idea inconsistent with honour- 
 able habits, or the good counsel of elders and superiors — nay, 
 as though he had never had knowledge of such things. His 
 had always been a God-fearing house; three generations 
 had endowed charities. The very perfume which now hung 
 round them might well have come from Palestine. 
 
 And after all there had been no danger, " We are in 
 church now." The organ pealed under the powerful touch 
 of the drunken Swabian; its full accords blended with 
 Engel's thoughts, and seemed to restore him to himself. 
 
 No delight can compare with that of an evenly balanced 
 nature, which, having believed itself in danger, discovers that 
 that danger has been a delusion. This feeling of delight 
 does not spring violently into being, it does not throb, but 
 spreads through the whole man with a soft perfect sense of 
 enjoyment. It resembles the delight of recovery, of a good 
 digestion, the smiling view, the delightful odour of some 
 coveted object to which he may now draw near. He raised 
 his face, bearing its best expression, towards the pulpit, 
 calmly receiving all the glances which were directed to- 
 wards him. He suspected that he was envied, and that 
 tickled him. 
 
 What a future lay before them ! Just then the bride's hand 
 trembled ; he withdrew his eyes quickly from the pulpit. 
 Milla was deadly white, and could not, or would not advance. 
 What was it ?
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 299 
 
 Nora, Tinka, Anna Rogne, and several others were sitting 
 quite in front, just where they must pass. Could there be 
 anything terrifying in that ? Every face bore an expression 
 of mingled excitement and mischievous delight, all, all of 
 them, in whatever direction he looked ; it infected him as 
 well. What was it? Involuntarily his eyes sought the 
 chancel — if they were but there ! There they would be in 
 peace. But all in the chancel were on their feet ; they 
 stood amazed, staring down into the body of the church, 
 not to his side, but to the opposite one. At the same moment 
 his daughter gave a sharp cry and staggered backwards, 
 dragging him with her. 
 
 Into the pew furthest from them on the right, through 
 the vestry, and therefore from across the chancel, came 
 Pastor Vangen ; after him, Tora Holm, with something in her 
 arms ; then Miss Hall, then Rendalen. In this order they 
 were just seating themselves as the bridal procession entered 
 the door. 
 
 Tora had a double black veil over her face and over what 
 she held in her arms, and this had been securely fastened so 
 that it was only when Miss Hall had helped her that she was 
 able to turn with her face uncovered, and with her child in 
 her arms, towards her who was now advancing. 
 
 A storm of anger, reprobation, threats seemed to rise to 
 the very roof, the excitement mingling with the roll of the 
 organ. Milla was almost dragged forward. She came into 
 the chancel little more than a white silk dress among all the 
 other dresses. 
 
 A rustle, a stir ! Heads, hands, eyes, bouquets seemed 
 to whirl before her, so that she could not extricate herself, 
 nor find her own seat, her own bouquet, her own hand- 
 kerchief Every one crowded round with offers of help, 
 with Eau de Cologne, and general disturbance. The last to 
 come was the big red-faced man with the large moustache 
 and the decorations ; he tried to force her own bouquet on 
 her, of which she could not endure the scent. When at last 
 she was free and could draw a breath, she burst into tears. 
 She drew her veil forward. Milla pitied herself so : what 
 a dreadful thing it was that they had done ; she felt furious, 
 perfectly furious. 
 
 Consul Engel received her first glance. It came on him, 
 following all that he had already gone through, like the last
 
 300 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 dram which deprives a man of consciousness. He began to 
 wonder with a strange delirious feeUng why his trousers felt 
 so thin. Was it really so ? 
 
 The elegant Fiirst sat beside him, holding his hat first in 
 one hand, then in the other, and crossing and uncrossing 
 his legs. It was on account of him that all this had hap- 
 pened, and the budding politician was not yet sufficiently 
 accomplished to be able to sit still while he was flayed, cut 
 up, and put in the pot. 
 
 Dosen, who was close behind him, pulled the ends of his 
 fair moustache with his white-gloved hands — now left, now 
 right — harder, and harder, and harder. He was marvellously 
 industrious over it. The people in the body of the church 
 saw this white hand moving about under his nose, and 
 thought that he was playing some trick, or making signs to 
 some one, but they could not find out to whom. The grand 
 folk felt the embarrassment of the situation to be most dis- 
 tressing, but, all the same, they wanted to get a look at the 
 woman with the child — she was so devilish handsome, so 
 foreign-looking. They strained their necks, they craned 
 forward ; Consul Bernick himself made his neck as long and 
 distorted as that of a cockerel when it is learning to crow. 
 
 To the rest of these mishaps was added the Dean's non- 
 appearance. The vergers went in and out, in and out, with 
 all the solemnity of intense stupidity. 
 
 The organist's playing showed signs of impatience. 
 It seemed to him that it was rather long before Dean 
 Green came and he would be able to begin the hymn. He 
 had exhausted the pompous style long ago; he now turned 
 to the sentimental, its direct opposite — from the clear 
 notes of the shepherd's pipe to the most impossible chirping 
 of a chicken. His fancy indubitably wandered among all 
 the little ones who were to spring from this marriage; he 
 chased them with his fingers, saying hush, hush, to them in 
 the treble. 
 
 At last Engel had recovered himself so far that he 
 began to realise the difference between the delicate and the 
 coarse, between well-bred and ill-bred individuals ; to the 
 latter he knew that nothing was so delightful as scandal, 
 but this was something altogether unheard of. It needed 
 a Kurt to have thought of this, to have created such a 
 maddening scene. His handkerchief was wet already, his
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 301 
 
 white gloves were almost grey. As he fanned himself 
 and wiped away the perspiration, he glanced anxiously 
 at Milla. She hated him ! He prayed to God. Yes, 
 Consul Emil Engel prayed fervently to God that their 
 sins might not be visited upon this poor innocent girl ! 
 They had deceived her, truly, but with the best intentions 
 in the world. God knew how true this was. But who 
 could have anticipated that so mad a thing should have 
 been attempted as to dishonour the sacred edifice ? 
 
 Engel did not swear as a rule, he was too refined a man 
 for that, but almost simultaneously with his heartfelt com- 
 munion with God, he desired with his whole heart that the 
 devil might take the lot of them. 
 
 He had recourse to his wet handkerchief again. At the 
 same time the thought was in Milla's mind, " Shall I go ?" 
 
 Engel saw it in her eyes, in the way she moved on her 
 chair. Fiirst saw it also. Both felt it like a million electric 
 shocks ; but they could not give up their last hope that 
 Milla was too well-bred to increase the scandal. Engel felt 
 that, even if she remained, he should be, from this time 
 forward, a broken, discredited man ; Fiirst felt that if only 
 Milla would go with him before the altar, a career would 
 still be open to him. 
 
 But still the Dean did not come ! All thoughts centred 
 on this ; it became intensely painful. All eyes were fixed 
 on the vestry door. Was he ill, or feigning to be so, so as 
 not to come ? Where was the deacon, then ? Make him 
 come ! Why did not Karl Vangen move ? The women 
 in the chancel who had not got over the first fright (there 
 were some who had been obliged to grasp the seats of their 
 chairs to prevent themselves from trembling) were now 
 made really ill by this fresh strain ; several began to cry. 
 " Yes," thought Milla ; " I am to be pitied, dreadfully to be 
 pitied ! Oh, if mother had lived ! " x^nd she cried bitterly. 
 Every one had conspired against her, who had done nothing. 
 Would old Green now let her sit there so miserably on 
 the stool of repentance before all these horrid, horrid 
 people ! 
 
 She thus lost sight of the first and important question, 
 and was so tossed about by the feeling of desolation that, 
 when the Dean did at length appear, she felt it consolation, 
 a reward from Heaven.
 
 302 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 But if she had not, even for a moment, got sufficiently 
 away from herself to feel why this had been done, those 
 had, who sat below the chancel. Not only those who were 
 in the secret, who were few in number, not only their sym- 
 pathisers who were numerous ; no, every woman felt that it 
 would be shocking, if, after what had occurred, Milla could 
 or would go on. Even if she had been dragged up there — 
 why did she not rise, why did she not leave them ? They 
 expected her to do so from one moment to another, but 
 Milla remained seated. Could such a thing be possible, 
 after such a strong appeal to her conscience ? Every good 
 woman, who is unfettered, involuntarily takes the part of 
 the weak, of the one who has been wronged. The minds 
 of those in the church were agitated like the waves of the sea. 
 The stir became greater and greater. Was it credible that 
 she would go to the altar with the wretch ? Shame on those 
 around her who could countenance such a thing. Every one 
 stared at the altar. Was not old Green coming ? He must 
 have had scruples at the last moment about giving them the 
 blessing of the Church. Karl Vangen would never have 
 done so. He was with her who was betrayed and deceived. 
 He was so simple-minded that he believed that the Church's 
 place was there. The grateful glances which his broad 
 face attracted during these few moments would have gilded 
 the vaulted roofs of several churches, or thousands of hymn- 
 books and Bibles. At length they saw by the stir in the 
 chancel that old Green had come at last. Really and truly ! 
 
 Very slowly and feebly he came, very feeble indeed he 
 looked. " A thorough ecclesiastical compromise," it was 
 whispered about. Just as he reached the altar, the hymn 
 began. All those in the chancel joined in it. In their zeal, 
 their relief, their gratitude to Providence, they all sang ; 
 the bridegroom, Engel, the General and the Consul-General, 
 Bernick, Dosen, Riis, the celebrities, the Sheriff, all sang of 
 the first bride who was brought by God himself to the first 
 bridegroom. Not one of them believed it, but they sang 
 so that it was a sin that the organ overpowered them, for 
 such singing of hynms ought to be heard. 
 
 Their wives' trebles chimed in ; they were so startled that 
 they could not find the hymn, but they all knew it by heart. 
 The one who was the quickest to join in, and who sang the 
 loudest in praise of marriage, was Fru Garman.
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR. 303 
 
 Except these and the clerk, no one in the whole church 
 joined in the singing. The stir became so great and so 
 general that a number could not remain sitting, they stood 
 up ; those behind them wanted to see, and stood up also. 
 But Tora rose before any one of them. What those around 
 her had felt, and were feeling with all its violence, was as 
 nothing to what she experienced, for when deeply moved she 
 showed herself her mother's daughter. The journey here had 
 worked her up to a state of excitement, which her constitu- 
 tion could hardly bear. 
 
 If for no other reason, still for her own sake, Milla must 
 be prevented from marrying the wretch. For this it was 
 necessary that Tora should show herself, she and her child ; 
 everything else might fail, but this would force Milla to 
 pause — she knew her ! 
 
 This could only be done if Tora had the will and the 
 courage for it. And she had, for her friends had the will and 
 courage to be with her. It did not merely concern herself. 
 It concerned the school, Milla, a great cause ; it concerned 
 thousands ! 
 
 No one, least of all herself, had had the slightest doubt 
 but that to stand up with her child in her arms before the 
 bride, would be sufficient. From the moment that Milla had 
 burst into tears in the chancel, but still remained in her 
 place, until now, when old Green had come, Tora's excite- 
 ment had increased to such an extent that those nearest to 
 her were alarmed ; it could be observed as well from the seat 
 opposite. They knew now that something must be done, 
 upon which neither they nor she had reckoned, before their 
 object could be attained. Tora was Tora, and would be 
 true to herself. 
 
 Flirst was already at the altar, accompanied by Consul 
 Wingaard ; Engel had walked carefully across the carpet to 
 lead his daughter forward. She rose and allowed the 
 bridesmaids to arrange her train and veil — when Tora 
 sprang forward from her seat. 
 
 Every one in the chancel was looking at the bride, who gave 
 her hand to her father and turned with him towards the altar. 
 They did not see Tora come up the steps. There was a 
 sound behind them like the breaking of a wave, and at the 
 same moment something black passed quickly by. The 
 ladies shrieked, the gendemen grew rigid with dismay.
 
 304 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. 
 
 Those at the altar turned round ; Engel staggered backwards ; 
 Tora stood between him and his daughter. 
 
 "Do you wish me to lay the child down before you, 
 Milla? Will you have it to kneel on ? " 
 
 " No ! no ! " cried Milla in horror. She turned, and with 
 her hands before her she flew from the ciiancel, her veil 
 streaming behind her. 
 
 Every one had risen. Tora had hastened at once to tlie 
 vestry — she felt that now her strength was exhausted — Miss 
 Hall followed her there. 
 
 But when Milla had left the chancel, she did not know 
 where to fly to ; some one ought to come to her, to be with 
 her — her womanly instinct told her that. She turned and 
 looked round bewildered. The vestry door was opened, a 
 harsh cry was heard from it for just so long as was needed 
 for the opening and shutting of a door ; but it was enough. 
 Milla began to cry too. An arm was put round her waist, she 
 was led from the church ; it was Nora. From the moment that 
 Milla had yielded, all resentment was over, all anger vanished. 
 Indeed, it was so with most of them. Rendalen was quickly 
 at her side, and then went on before them to make way. 
 
 The organist, who had not seen what had gone before, 
 but who, after the first hymn, had expected to hear the words 
 of the service, rose when the movement became general. 
 What was it? He saw the bride out in the aisle, the others 
 still in the chancel, the whole congregation standing up. 
 " Aber das war kurios ! JVird's nichts daraus 1 Ho — ho ! 
 Ich haf vieine zwei tan send !" 
 
 And he began to play the organ. They tried to stop him, 
 but he answered, "What haf they don with the brite? The 
 music shall do hergoot." 
 
 Hardly had the bellringers heard the organ before they 
 thought, "Now they are married," and began to ring the bells. 
 Hardly had those on board the saluting vessel heard the bells 
 before the guns began to thunder. They were to continue 
 firing until the bride's carriage drew up at the door of the 
 house, and as they could not see this from the ship, a signal 
 was to be made to them. In the general confusion this was 
 forgotten, so on they went — bang, bang, bang ! It seemed to 
 them at last that they had fired a great many rounds, but that 
 was other people's affair, so they thundered away as long as they 
 had any powder; for they also had been drinking considerably.
 
 A GALA DAY IN TOWN AND HARBOUR, 305 
 
 All this caused great amusement. The affair changed 
 from the sublime to the ridiculous. First among the crowd 
 who left the church amid the pealing of the organ, the clash 
 of the bells, the thunder of the cannon ; their laughter was 
 taken up in increasing m.easure by those in the market-place, 
 and from there it spread over the whole town. In the 
 memory of man there had not been so much laughter at one 
 time as now resounded from the river banks to the most 
 remote houses on the mountain, or out on the Point. The 
 country people went laughing home amid the roar of the 
 cannon, and wherever they came there was laughter. 
 
 A gala day in town and harbour. Thunder of cannon and 
 flutter of flags, flags and cannon — and laughter ! 
 
 At first the bridal party looked at each other with horror ; 
 by ones and twos they made their way out of the church, but 
 the laughter outside was infectious ; when they got home and 
 read the Spectator, they laughed too. 
 The Town Bailiff himself laughed ! 
 
 Up the avenue walked Nora and Rendalen. The cannon 
 thundered, and they turned round and looked at the flags 
 flying in the town and in the harbour — and laughed. Karl 
 Vangen hurried past them on his long legs ; Tora was at 
 Niels Hansen's. She was terribly exhausted, but calm ; 
 he was going to fetch the carriage — and off he went. No 
 less than fifteen girls passed them at once, going up to Fru 
 Rendalen \ another large group was following them. They 
 did not walk, they raced, and were quickly past. 
 
 A little later Fru Rendalen came out on to the steps to 
 meet her son and Nora: they were just the opposite of 
 every one else ; they stopped every moment. Now, j ust when 
 she wanted them so much. How could they forget her ? 
 
 All at once she pulled off her spectacles and wiped them. 
 Then put them on slowly. 
 
 Rendalen said, as he walked along the avenue, that there 
 had been a great deal which was one-sided and obscure, too 
 much of a fixed idea in his first lecture, and that there was a 
 great deal in his development as well, which was but half 
 accomplished. Still, " life is a school, and first and foremost 
 concerns schoolmasters." He did not say this in so many 
 words, he had not the least neetl for anything so stiff and 
 cold. To speak the plain truth, while they involuntarily 
 flew the flags down below for the success of his life's aim, he 
 
 u
 
 3o6 THE HERITAGE OF THE HURTS. 
 
 walked along here and paid his court — to her with the 
 "flickering" hair. It seemed to her that she was quiie 
 unworthy, and she brushed a swarm of flies from her eyes. 
 Bat it was so absolutely impossible not to wish, and so 
 
 They agreed about many, many, many things. The first 
 was that if one has confidence in a work, that confidence helps 
 in its development ; the second was, that when there are 
 two it goes on twice as quickly, or it may be that the last 
 was the first, and the firs,t the last. They really were not 
 accountable. 
 
 But fifteen girls were up on the tower at once ; they wanted 
 to hoist one flag to-day which would tell no lie, and also for 
 a reason which was without deception. They called down 
 to ask leave; Rendalen was at the foot of the steps, he 
 laughed up to them. Nora had sprung away from him — up 
 the steps to Fru Rendalen. She pressed closely, oh, so 
 closely, to her — apparently to put her spectacles on better. 
 
 "No, no," called Rendalen up to the girls on the tower; 
 " not to-da}'— for Milla's sake, but we will do so very soon." 
 
 I'RINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 LONDON AND EDINBURGH
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 In Gods Way. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON. 
 
 Crown 8vo, hi paper covers, 2s. 6d. ; or cloth, y. 6d. 
 
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 Author of " Two Little Wooden ShocN," &c. [/« October. 
 
 KITTY'S FATHER. By Fb ank Barrett. Author of 
 
 " Lieutenant Barnabas," &c. [/« November. 
 
 THE COUNTESS RADNA. By W. E. Norris, Author of 
 " Matrimony," &c. [^In January. 
 
 ORIOLE'S DAUGHTER. ANovel. By Jessie Fothergill, 
 
 Author of " The First Violin," &c. [/» February. 
 
 THE LAST SENTENCE. By Maxwell Gray, Author of 
 
 " The Silence of Dean Maitland," &c. [/« March. 
 
 In Two Volumes. 
 
 WOMAN AND THE MAN. A Love Story. By Robert 
 Buchanan, Author of "Come Live with Me and be My Love," "The 
 Moment After," "The Coming Terror," &c. {!n preparation. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE WHITE FEATHER. By " Tasma," 
 Author of "The Penance of Portia James," "Uncle Piper of Piper's 
 Hill," &c. [Just ready. 
 
 A LITTLE MINX. By Ada Cambridge, Author of "A 
 
 Marked Man," " The Three Miss Kings," &c. 
 
 In One Volume. 
 THE NAULAHKA. A Tale of West and East. ByRuDYARD 
 Kipling and Wolcott Balestier. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. Second 
 Edition. [/«-s^ ready. 
 
 THE AVERAGE WOMAN. By Wolcott Balestier. 
 
 With an Introduction by Henry James. Small crown 8vo, 35-. 6d. 
 
 [Just ready. 
 
 THE ATTACK ON THE MILL and Other Sketches 
 
 of War. By Emile Zola. With an essay on the short stories of M. 
 Zola by Edmund Gosse. Small crown 8vo, y. (>d. {J^^i ready. 
 
 DUST. By BjoRNSTjERNE BjoRNSON. Translated from the 
 Norwegian. Small crown 8vo. 
 
 THE SECRET OF NARCISSE. By Edmund Gosse. 
 
 Crown 8vo. U^ October. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE MISS and Other Stories. By Henry 
 
 Harland, Author of " Mea Culpa," &c. Small crown 8vo. [/« the Press. 
 
 THE DOMINANT SEVENTH. A Musical Story. By 
 Kate Elizabeth Clarke. Crown Svo, cloth, $s. 
 Speaker. — " A very romantic story." 
 
 PASSION THE PLAYTHING. ANovel. By R. Murray 
 
 Gilchrist. Crown Svo, cloth, 6f. 
 Athenieutn. — " This well-written story must be read to be appreciated."
 
 10 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 XTbe Crown Copi^rtGbt Series. 
 
 Mr. Heinemann has made arrangements with a number of the First and 
 Most Popular English, American, and Colonial Authors which will 
 enable him to issue a series of New and Original Works, to be known as 
 The Crown Copyright Series, complete in One Volume, at a uniform 
 price of Five Shillings each. These Novels will not pass through an Ex- 
 pensive Two or Three Volume Edition, but they will be obtainable at the 
 Circulating Libraries, as well as at all Booksellers' and Bookstalls. 
 
 ACCORDING TO ST, JOHN. By Am£lie Rives, Author 
 of " The Quiclr or the Dead." 
 
 Scotstnan. — "The literary work is highly artistic It has beauty and 
 
 brightness, and a kind of fascination which carries the reader on tdl he has read 
 to the last page." 
 
 THE PENANCE OF PORTIA JAMES. By Tasma, 
 Author of " Uncle Piper of Piper's Hill," &c. 
 
 Athencejim. — "A powerful novel." 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — "Captivatmg and yet tantalising, this story is far above 
 the average." 
 
 Vanity Fair. — "A very interesting story, morally sound, and flavoured 
 throughout with ease of diction and lack of strain." 
 
 INCONSEQUENT LIVES. A Village Chronicle, shewing 
 
 how certain folk set out for El Dorado ; what they attempted ; and what 
 they attained. By J. H. Pearce, Author of "Esther Pentreath," &c. 
 
 Saturday Revitiv. — "A vivid picture of the life of Cornish fisher-folk. It 
 is unquestionably interesting." 
 
 Literary World. — " Powerful and pathetic .... from first to last it is 
 profoundly interesting. It is long since we read a story revealing power of so 
 high an order, marked by such evident carefulness of workmanship, such skill in 
 the powerful and yet temperate presentation of passion, and in the sternly 
 realistic yet delicate treatment of difficult situations." 
 
 A QUESTION OF TASTE. By Maarten Maartens, 
 
 Author of " An Old Maid's Love," &c. 
 
 National Obserzier. — "There is more than cleverness; there is original 
 talent, and a good deal of humanity besides." 
 
 COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE. By 
 
 Robert Buchanan, Author of "The Moment After," "The Coming 
 Terror," &c. 
 
 Globe. — " Will be found eminently readable." 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "We will conclude this brief notice by expressing our 
 cordial admiration of the skill displayed in its construction, and the genial 
 humanity that has inspired its author in the shaping and vitalising of the indi- 
 viduals created by his fertile imagination." 
 
 THE O'CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH. By Mrs. 
 Hungerford, Author of " Molly Bawn," &c. [In tlie Press. 
 
 A BATTLE AND A BOY. By Blanche Willis Howard, 
 
 Author of " Guenn," &c. [In preparation. 
 
 VANITAS. By Vernon Lee, Author of " Hauntings," &c. 
 
 [In preparation.
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. Ii 
 
 IFDeincmann's international Xibrai^. 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE. 
 
 New Review. — " If you have any pernicious remnants of literary chauvinism 
 I hope it will not survive the series of foreign classics of which Mr. William 
 Heinemann, aided by Mr. Edmund Gosse, is publishing translations to the great 
 contentment of all lovers of literature." 
 
 Tittles. — "A venture which deserves encouragement." 
 Each Volume has an Introduction specially written by the Editor. 
 Price, in paper covers, ■2S. 6d. each, or cloth, 2,s. 6d, 
 IN GOD'S WAY. From the Norwegian of Bjornstjerne 
 
 BjORNSON. 
 
 Athenceum. — "Without doubt the most important and the most interesting 
 
 work published during the twelve months There are descriptions which 
 
 certainly belong to the best and cleverest things our literature has ever produced. 
 Amongst the niai\y characters, the doctors wife is unquestionably the first. It 
 would be difficult to find anything more tender, soft, and refined than this 
 charming personage." 
 
 PIERRE AND JEAN. From the French of GuY DE Mau- 
 passant. 
 
 Pall HI all Gazette. — "So fine and faultless, so perfectly balanced, so 
 steadily progressive, so clear and simple and satisfying. It is adnurable from 
 beginning to end." 
 
 Athenceuin. — " Ranks amongst the best gems of modern French fiction." 
 
 THE CHIEF JUSTICE. From the German of Karl Emil 
 Franzos, Author of " For the Right," &c. 
 
 New Review. — " Few novels of recent times have a more sustained and 
 vivid human interest." 
 
 Christian World. — "A story of wonderful power .... as free from any- 
 thing objectionable as ' 1 he Heart of Midlothian.' " 
 
 WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT. From the 
 
 Russian of Count LvoF Tolstoy. 
 
 Liverpool Mercury. — "Marked by all the old power of the great Russian 
 novelist." 
 
 Manchester Guardian. — "Readable and well translated; full of high and 
 noble feeling." 
 
 FANTASY. From the Italian of Matilde Serao. 
 
 National Observer. — " The strongest work from the hand of a woman that 
 has been published for many a day." 
 
 Scottish Leader. — " The book is full of a glowing and living realism 
 
 There is nothing like ' Fantasy ' in modern literature It is a work of elfish 
 
 art, a mosaic of light and love, of right and wrong, of human weakness and 
 strength, and purity and wantonness, pieced together in deft and witching 
 precision." 
 
 FROTH. From the Spanish of Don Armando Palacio 
 Valdes. 
 Daily Telegraph. — " Vigorous and powerful in the highest degree. It 
 abounds in forcible delineation of character, and describes scenes with rare and 
 graphic strength." 
 
 FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. From the Dutch of LouiS 
 
 COUPERUS. 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — "A powerfully realistic story which has been excellently 
 translated." 
 
 Gentlewoman. — " The consummate art of the writer prevents this tragedy 
 from sinking to melodrama. Not a single situation is forced or a circumstance 
 exaggerated."
 
 12 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 HDCineinann's 5nternatioiml Xibrary. 
 
 PEPITA JIMENEZ. From the Spanish of Juan Valera. 
 
 _ New Review (Mr. George Saintsbury) :-"There is no doubt at all that 
 It IS one of the best stones that have appeared in any country in Europe for the 
 last twenty years. 
 
 THE COMMODORE'S DAUGHTERS. From the Nor- 
 wegian of Jonas Lie. 
 Aikeiueiim.—" Everything that Jonas Lie writes is attractive and pleasant ; 
 the plot of deeply human interest, and the art noble." 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS. From the Norwegian 
 
 of BjORNSTJERNE BjORNSON. 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette.— " A most fascinating as well as a powerful book." 
 National Observer.—" It is a book to read and a book to think about, for. 
 incontestably, it is the work of a man of genius." 
 
 In the Press. 
 
 LOU. From the German of Baron v. Roberts. 
 
 DONA LUZ. From the Spanish of Juan Valera. 
 
 WITHOUT DOGMA. From the Polish of H. Sienkiewicz. 
 
 popular 30. 60. mo\?el5, 
 
 CAPT'N DAVY'S HONEYMOON, The Blind Mother, 
 
 and The Last Confession. By Hall Caine, Author of " The Bondman," 
 "The Scapegoat," &c. 
 
 THE SCAPEGOAT. By Hall Caine, Author of "The 
 
 Bondman," &c. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone writes :—" I congratulate you upon ' The Scapegoat ' as a 
 work of art, and especially upon the noble and skilfully drawn character of 
 Israel." 
 
 Times.—" In our judgment it excels in dramatic force all his previous efforts. 
 For grace and touching pathos Naomi is a character which any romancist in the 
 world might be proud to have created." 
 
 THE BONDMAN. A New Saga. By Hall Caine. 
 
 Twentieth Thousand. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone. — "'The Bondman' is a work of which I recognise the 
 freshness, vigour, and sustained interest no less than its integrity of aim." 
 
 Standard.—" Its argument is grand, and it is sustained with a power that is 
 almost marvellous." 
 
 DESPERATE REMEDIES. By Thomas Hardy, Author 
 
 of "Tess of the D'Urbervllles," &c. 
 Saturday Review. — " A remarkable story worked out with abundant skill." 
 
 A MARKED MAN : Some Episodes in his Life. By Ada 
 Cambridge, Author of "Two Years* Time," "A Mere Chance," &c. 
 Morning Post.—" A depth of feeling, a knowledge of the human heart, and 
 an amount of tact that one rarely finds. Should take a prominent place among 
 the novels of the season." 
 
 THE THREE MISS KINGS. By Ada Cambridge, Author 
 
 of "A Marked Man." 
 Athenceum. — "A charming study of character. The love stories are ex- 
 cellent, and the author is happy in tender situations." 
 
 NOT ALL IN VAIN. By Ada Cambridge, Author of "A 
 
 Marked Man," " The Three Miss Kings," &c. 
 Guardian. — " A clever and absorbing story." 
 Queen.—" All that remains to be said is ' read the book.' "
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 13 
 
 Ipopular 3s. 6t>. IRovels. 
 
 UNCLE PIPER OF PIPER'S HILL. By Tasma.. New 
 
 Popular Edition. 
 Guardian. — " Every page of it contains good wholesome food, which demands 
 and repays digestion. The tale itself is thoroughly charming, and all the 
 characters are delightfully drawn. We strongly recommend all lovers of whole- 
 some novels to make acquaintance with it themselves, and are much mistaken if 
 they do not heartily thank us for the introduction." 
 
 IN THE VALLEY. By Harold Frederic. Author of 
 
 " The Lawton Girl," " Seth's Brother's Wife," &c. With Illustrations. 
 Times. — "The literary value of the book is high; the author's studies of 
 bygone life presenting a life-like picture." 
 
 PRETTY MISS SMITH. By Florence Warden, Author 
 
 of "The House on the Marsh," "A Witch of the Hills," &c. 
 Punch. — " Since Miss Florence Warden's ' House on the Marsh,' I have 
 not read a more exciting tale." 
 
 NOR WIFE, NOR MAID. By Mrs. Hungerford, Author 
 of " Molly Bawn," &c. 
 
 Queen. — " It has all the characteristics of the writer's work, and greater 
 emotional depth than most of its predecessors." 
 
 Scotsman. — " Delightful reading, supremely interesting." 
 
 MAMMON. A Novel. By Mrs. Alexander, Author of " The 
 
 Wooing O't," &c. 
 Scotsinan. — " The present work is not behind any of its predecessors. 
 'Mammon ' is a healthy story, and as it has been thoughtfully written it has the 
 merit of creating thought in its readers." 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF MEN. By Hannah Lynch, Author of 
 
 " The Prince of the Glades," &c. 
 Daily Telegraph. — " Singularly clever and fascinating." 
 Academy. — " One of the cleverest, if not also the pleasantest, stories that 
 have appeared for a long time." 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE CAPE FRONTIER. By Bertram 
 
 MiTFORD, Author of "Through the Zulu Country," &c. 
 Observer. — " This is a rattling tale, genial, healthy, and spirited." 
 
 'TWEEN SNOW AND FIRE. A Tale of the Kafir War of 
 1877. By Bertram Mitpord. 
 
 THE MASTER OF THE MAGICIANS. By Elizabeth 
 Stuart Phelps and Herbert D. Ward. 
 Athenaum. — "A thrilhng story." 
 
 LOS CERRITOS. A Romance of the Modern Time. By 
 Gertrude Franklin Atherton, Author of " Hermia Suydam," and 
 " What Dreams may Come." 
 AthencEUfn. — "Full of fresh fancies and suggestions. Told with strength 
 
 and delicacy. A decidedly charming romance." 
 
 A MODERN MARRIAGE. By the Marquise Clara Lanza. 
 
 Queen. — "A powerful story, dramatically and consistently carried ouL" 
 Black and White. — " A decidedly clever book."
 
 14 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 popular SbUliiiG Boohs. 
 
 MADAME VALERIE. By F. C. Philips, Author of " As 
 in a Looking-Glass," &c. 
 
 THE MOMENT AFTER: A Tale of the Unseen. By 
 Robert Buchanan. 
 
 Athenceutn. — "Should be read— in daylight." 
 
 Obseri>er.—" Pi. clever tour deforce," 
 
 Guardian. — " Particularly impressive, graphic, and powerful." 
 
 CLUES ; or, Leaves from a Chief Constable's Note-Book. 
 
 By William Henderson, Chief Constable of Edinburgh. 
 Mr. Gladstone.—^' I found the book full of interest." 
 
 A VERY STRANGE FAMILY. By F. W. Robinson, 
 
 Author of " Grandmother's Money," " Lazarus in London," &c. 
 
 Glasgow Herald. — " An ingeniously devised plot, of which the interest is 
 kept up to the very last page. A judicious blending of humour and pathos 
 further helps to make the book delightful reading from start to finish." 
 
 IDramatic Xiteuature. 
 
 THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO. 
 
 With Introductory Notes by Malcolm C. Salaman. i6mo, Paper Covers, 
 \s. 6d. ; or Cloth, zj. 6d. each. 
 
 THE TIMES: A Comedy in Four Acts. With a Preface by 
 the Author. (Vol. L) 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "'The Times ' is the best example yet given of Mr. 
 Pinero's power as a satirist. So clever is his work that it beats down opposition. 
 So fascinating is his style that we cannot help listening to him." 
 
 Morning Post. — "Mr. Pinero's latest belongs to a high order of dramatic 
 literature, and the piece will be witnessed again with all the greater zest after the 
 perusal of such admirable dialogue." 
 
 THE PROFLIGATE: A Play in Four Acts. With Portrait 
 of the Author, after J. Mordecai. (Vol. IL) 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — " Will be welcomed by all who have the true interests 
 of the stage at heart." 
 
 THE CABINET MINISTER: A Farce in Four Acts. 
 (Vol. in.) 
 
 Observer. — " It is as amusing to read as it was when played." 
 
 THE HOBBY HORSE: A Comedy in Three Acts. 
 
 (Vol. IV.) 
 
 St. lames's Gazette. — "Mr. Pinero has seldom produced better or more 
 Interesting work than in ' The Hobby Horse.' " 
 
 LADY BOUNTIFUL. A Play in Four Acts. (Vol. V.) 
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. A Farce in Three Acts. (Vol. VL) 
 
 To be followed by Dandy Dick, The Schoolmistress, The Weaker Sex, Lords and 
 Conunons, The Squire, and Sweet Lavender.
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 15 
 
 Bramattc Xitcrature, 
 
 A NEW PLAY. By Henrik Ibsen. Translated from the 
 
 Norwegian. Small 4to. {_In preparation. 
 
 A NEW PLAY. By Bjornstjerne BjOrnson. Translated 
 from the Norwegian. \Jn preparation. 
 
 THE PRINCESSE MALEINE: A Drama in Five Acts 
 (Translated by Gerard Harry), and THE INTRUDER: A Drama in 
 One Act. By Maurice Maeterlinck. With an Introduction by Hall 
 Caine, and a Portrait of the Author. Small 410, cloth, 5^. 
 
 AihentFuni. — " In the creation of the 'atmosphere' of the play M. Maeter- 
 linck shows his skill. It is here that he communicates to us the nouveait frisson, 
 here that he does what no one else has done. In ' The Intruder ' the art 
 consists of the subtle gradations of terror, the slow, creeping progress of the 
 nightmare of apprehension. Nothing quite like it has been done before— not 
 even by Poe — not even by Villiers." 
 
 THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT: A Comedy in 
 Four Acts. By Count LvoF Tolstoy. Translated from the Russian by 
 E. J. Dillon. With Introduction by A. W. Pinero. Small 410, with 
 Portrait, 5^. 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — "The whole effect of the play is distinctly Molieresque; 
 it has something of the large humanity of the master. Its satire is genial, almost 
 
 gay." 
 
 HEDDA GABLER: A Drama in Four Acts. By Henrik 
 
 Ibsen. Translated from the Norwegian by Edmund Gosse. Small 410, 
 cloth, with Portrait, 55. Vaudeville Edition, paper, i^. Also a Limited 
 Large Paper Edition, ■2\s. net. 
 
 Times. — "The language in which this play is couched is a model of brevity, 
 
 decision, and pointedness Every line tells, and there is not an incident 
 
 that does not bear on the action immediate or remote. As a corrective to the 
 vapid and foolish writing with which the stage is deluged ' Hedda Gabler ' is 
 perhaps entitled to the place of honour." 
 
 STRAY MEMORIES. By Ellen Terry. In one volume. 
 
 Illustrated. \.In preparation. 
 
 SOME INTERESTING FALLACIES OF THE 
 
 Modern Stage. An Address delivered to the Playgoers' Club at St. 
 James's Hall, on Sunday, 6th December, 1891. By Herbert Beerbohm 
 Tree. Crown 8vo, sewed, td. 
 
 THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN. By Henrik J^ger. 
 
 Translated by Clara Bell. With the Verse done into English from the 
 Norwegian Original by Edmund Gosse. Crown 8vo, cloth, dr. 
 
 .S"^. I antes' s Gazette. — "Admirably translated. Deserves a cordial and 
 emphatic welcome." 
 
 Guardian. — " Ibsen's dramas at present enjoy a considerable vogue, and 
 their admirers will rejoice to find full descriptions and criticisms in Mr. Jaeger's 
 book."
 
 l6 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 poetry* 
 
 IVY AND PASSION FLOWER: Poems, By Gerard 
 Bendall, Author of " Estelle," &c. &c. i2mo, cloth, 3^. (sd. 
 
 Scotsman. — " Will be read with pleasure." 
 
 Musical lyorld. — " The poems are delicate specimens of art, graceful and 
 polished." 
 
 VERSES. By Gertrude Hall. i2mo, cloth, 3.^. 6d. 
 
 Manchester Gttardian. — " Will be welcome to every lover of poetry who 
 takes it up." 
 
 MAGONIA: A Poem. By Charles Godfrey Leland (Hans 
 
 Bueitmann). Fcap. 8vo. {In the Press. 
 
 IDYLLS OF WOMANHOOD. By C. Amy Dawson. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, gilt top, 5^, 
 
 UDeineinanu's Scientific 1ban&bool^s, 
 
 MANUAL OF BACTERIOLOGY. By A. B. Griffiths, 
 
 Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. Crown 8vo, cloth, Illustrated. 
 
 [In the Press. 
 
 MANUAL OF ASSAYING GOLD, SILVER, COPPER, 
 
 and Lead Ores. By Walter Lee Brown, B.Sc. Revised, Corrected, 
 and considerably Enlarged, with a chapter on the Assaying of Fuel, &c. 
 By A. B. Griffiths, Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. Crown 8vo, cloth. 
 Illustrated, 7^. 6d. 
 
 Colliery Guardian. — "A delightful and fascinating book." 
 Pinancial World. — " The most complete and practical manual on everything 
 which concerns assaying of all which have come before us." 
 
 GEODESY. By J. Howard Gore. Crown 8vo, cloth. Illus- 
 trated, 5.f. 
 
 St. James's Gazette. — "The book may be safely recommended to those who 
 desire to acquire an accurate knowledge of Geodesy." 
 
 Science Gossip. — " It is the best we could recommend to all geodetic students. 
 1 1 is full and clear, thoroughly accurate, and up to date in all matters of earth- 
 measurements." 
 
 THE PHYSICAL PROPERTIES OF GASES. By 
 
 Arthur L. Kimball, of the Johns Hopkins University. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth. Illustrated, 5^. 
 
 Chemical News. — " The man of culture who wishes for a general and accurate 
 acquaintance with the physical properties of gases, will find in Mr. Kimball's 
 work just what he requu-es." 
 
 HEAT AS A FORM OF ENERGY. By Professor R. H. 
 Thurston, of Cornell University. Crown 8vo, cloth, Illustrated, %s. 
 
 Mancliester Examiner. — " Bears out the character of its predecessors for 
 careful and correct statement and deduction under the light of the most recent 
 discoveries." 
 
 LONDON: 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, W.C.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYL.ORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED INU S A