IIMeantime Thora at home was in the throes of a great temptation. She had heard the peace-making between Magnus and her husband and had said to herself, "Oscar will go to see Dr. Olesen at once, and the dear doctor will say: 'Certainly, the little mother is quite well enough now to take care of her baby--give the child back to her immediately.'" Then Oscar would come rushing up-stairs, and her room would be the same as if a window had blown open, and he would cry, "Hip-hip-hurrah! Doctor says baby may come back!" and then Anna would take him by the shoulders and turn him out and everybody would laugh.But Oscar was long in coming, and when he came he said nothing about the doctor. He only talked about their little Elin, and said he had just returned from seeing her. She was so rosy and well, and she was beginning to "notice." If you held out your finger she looked at it as if it were the bough of a great tree, and then held it tight as if her little body hung by it."I couldn't tear myself away from her, Thora," he said. "It's wonderful what a lot of pleasure you can get out of a baby."It was strange that Oscar did not see that he was hurting her every minute, but she only thought, "I know what it is--he is going to take me by surprise. He doesn't want to tell me that baby is coming until she comes. He will bring her back as he took her away, in the night, while I am asleep; and when I awake in the morning she will be there."In this sweet hope Thora closed her eyes early that evening, before the red glow of the sunset had quite gone from the walls of her room, saying a little prayer for Oscar, and another little prayer for Elin, that she might be as lovely as ever when she saw her in the morning; and then she fell asleep.When she awoke next day she listened for the baby's breathing, and thinking she heard it she stretched out a gentle hand to the place where the child should lie, and then with a smile she opened her eyes. But her baby was not there, and the sun in the room died out.When the doctor came to see her that morning he looked grave and anxious. "I'm afraid my little patient is worrying overmuch," he said. "The head is hot and there is some fever. She must lie quiet, perfectly quiet for the next few days, or I won't answer for what may happen."Only this, not a word about baby, and even when the doctor took Anna into the nursery to give the usual instructions Thora listened intently, but there was not a syllable about the child.The Governor came next, with the odor of snuff on his gold-laced coat, and he stroked Thora's arm as it lay on the counterpane, and said she was not to worry about anything."My dear little daughter must get better as fast as ever she can," he said. "She must eat more and if she wants anything she must ask for it and she shall have it, whatever it is."She tried to say that all she wanted was her little baby, and if they would give her that she would soon be well, but her throat was hurting and she could not speak.Her own father came last, smelling of breakfast and strong tobacco, and he rallied her in a loud voice."Tut, tut! This will never do! We'll have to send you away again, with Helga to look after you. And look here, young lady, you've got to get better soon and come and carry away that baby. She's turning our house upside down. Nobody over there can see the sun for that little mite, and Aunt Margret and Auntie Helga haven't a thought for anybody else."By this time the conviction had forced itself upon Thora's mind that the family had agreed that the child was not to be returned to her, and that Helga was responsible for this cruel resolution. Then a fierce passion took possession of her, such as she had never known before. She hated her sister with a terrible hatred. Helga, who had first robbed her of her husband, had now robbed her of her child, and throwing dust in her people's eyes had used her weakness as an excuse and a blind. But she would defeat her, she would defeat everybody, she would get back her child whatever the consequences, and not all the powers of earth or heaven or hell should take it away from her again.The intensity of her feeling, if it could have been realized by those about her, would have made her sweet and gentle soul unrecognizable. She was like a feline animal robbed of its young and going out to recover it. All the other passions and emotions that had ever possessed her--love of her husband, affection for Anna and Aunt Margret and her father and the Governor, pity for Magnus and tenderness toward all living things--were burnt up by the one consuming desire--the desire for her child. It made her terrible, it made her cruel, it made her cunning.Thora determined to steal back her own child.The following day--the day of the Proclamation--would give her an opportunity of doing so. Nearly everybody would then be at Thingvellir, therefore her path would be more clear. Only Anna would stay at home to attend to herself, and Aunt Margret to attend to the child. Her one feverish anxiety was that Oscar should not stay behind as well, for if Oscar were to remain Helga would remain also and then her scheme would come to naught.Thora lay awake the whole night through. Before daybreak she heard the people shouting in the darkness; at dawn she heard the departure of the Governor, and when Oscar called up at her window she knew that Helga was with him, for she heard the hoofs of two horses.When everybody had gone she lay back on her pillow with a sigh of immense relief."How soon will they be back, mother?" she asked."Not much before midnight, I'm afraid. But you must not fret after anybody, my child, for everything shall be done for you," said Anna.Then the transparent young soul, in the fierce fire of its temptation, began to lay plans for deceiving Anna and for getting her out of the way. At one moment she said:"Haven't you any errands to do this morning, dear--in the town, I mean--being left alone, you know, and even the servants gone?""Errands? Bless your dear heart, it's like Sunday in town to-day and not a shop open anywhere," said Anna.At another moment Thora said:"Mother, if you wish to go down into the kitchen to cook you needn't think of me?""The cooking is all done, dear," said Anna. "Maria did it yesterday, and I've nothing to do now but warm up the dishes on the nursery stove. So I needn't leave you for a minute, you see."Thora was beginning to be restless in her perplexity, but presently she thought, "I know! I'll tell her to lie down after dinner, and then I'll get up and dress and go."That suggested thoughts about her clothes, which had been taken off on the night of her attack and packed away somewhere. There would be drawers to open and search, and that would take time and make noises. So she said:"Mother, dear, don't you think my clothes must be getting damp lying so long unused?""Damp? In five days and the middle of summer, too!" cried Anna."Still, it would be nice to see them airing--it would make me think of getting up, you know.""Then you shall, sweetheart, certainly you shall," said Anna, and with the playfulness of one who indulges a child the good soul took Thora's clothes out of a wardrobe, held them up to her one by one, and then hung them on the chairs in front of the stove in the nursery, clucking and crowing of the day when Thora would put them on and go down-stairs, with wraps and scarves, and Oscar helping her.Thora watched intently and then said:"I haven't seen my cloak yet, mother.""Your cloak! Your outdoor cloak! Bless me, what a heart she has to be sure! But no, no! We'll all be dancing with delight if you need that for the next three weeks, Thora."The hours lagged cruelly before dinner, and after it the sun's line on the wall was long in leaving the bed; but at last three o'clock struck on the Bornholme clock below stairs and then Thora said:"Mother, I'm sure you are very tired--I wish you would go to your room and rest.""And leave my honey alone? Not I," said Anna."But I want to rest myself and I can't rest unless you are resting.""If you really think you'll sleep better----""I'm sure I shall," said Thora."Well--seeing you slept so little last night," said Anna, and Thora began to yawn and sigh."I'll leave both doors open then. And see, Thora--I'll put this little handbell on the table, and if you awake and want me--I sleep like a cat, you know, the least noise wakens me----""Good night, mother," said Thora in a drowsy tone, and Anna, smiling and nodding to herself over Thora's "error," stole on tiptoe out of the room.Thora listened for the last footfall in the corridor and then raised herself in bed. She was alone at last, and the time had come to defeat the conspiracy of love and kindness, prompted by jealousy and envy, that had robbed her of her child. Her child, her child! She must get back her child, whatever it might cost her!She dropped to the floor and in doing so she brushed the hand-bell off the table. It fell to the carpet with a deadened clang, and for a moment she held her breath and listened. But there was no sound from Anna's room, so she clutched at the bedclothes and stood erect. Then the walls went round, and she knew for the first time how weak she was. But her heart was strong if her limbs were feeble, and she found her way to the nursery, where her clothes still hung over the backs of chairs. It was a weary task to put them on, but her purpose never flagged. At last she was dressed and looking at herself in the glass. Her eyes were red, her lips were pale, and her cheeks were sucked in and white. Nobody would know her who met her in the street, yet still if she could find her cloak----The Bornholme clock chimed half past three, and Thora began to steal down the corridor. She had to go by Anna's bedroom and the door was standing open. Anna's shawl lay on a chair within and she snatched it up and wrapped it over her shoulders and her head. Then she went down-stairs. Her limbs trembled under her, but not from fear, and if anybody had tried to stop her now she would have fought like a fiend."My child is mine!" she thought. "What right have they to keep her from me?"The next moment she was in the street.IIIThe Bornholme clock struck four. Anna awoke and hearing no sound from Thora's room she went back to the nursery and busied herself noiselessly at the stove.Presently the lace curtains in the bedroom were rustled by the wind from an open window and Anna cried through the door:"Lie quiet, Thora--I'm making tea," and then she began to sing to herself in the voice of her youth.A few minutes later she said, "That sleep must have made me stupid--I've actually put in the hot water before the tea-leaves."Soon afterwards she sailed into Thora's room with the tea tray in both hands and a smile on her face, saying, "Here it is, but you'll thank your stars when Maria comes back in the morning."She was setting down the tray on the round table by the bedside where the hand-bell should have been, when her eyes fell on the empty bed. Her breath jumped in her throat, and she turned her head slowly over her shoulder, calling, "Thora!"There was no answer; the room was empty. Anna remembered the clothes which she had laid out on the chairs in the nursery. They were gone. "Thora! Thora!" she cried, in an agitated whisper.Then the smile came back to her face. "I know," she thought. "Thora has dressed herself and gone down to the drawing-room, just to show me what she can do."At that thought the smile was chased away by a mighty frown. "But I'll give it her," she thought, and downstairs she went with a determined step and banged the drawing-room door back saying, "Really, Thora, it is very naughty----"But the protest died in her throat, for Thora was not there. Then her heart shook like a leaf stiffened by hoar frost and she ran through the house, from room to room, crying in a voice shrill with fear and thickened by sobs, "Thora, where are you? Thora! Honey! Don't hide yourself from me! Thora! Thora!"At that moment Golden Mane came tolting up to the green and Magnus entered the house. Hearing his mother's voice he ran up-stairs, and came face to face with Anna in the corridor."What has happened?" he asked."Thora's lost," said Anna."Lost?""She coaxed me to lie down this afternoon, and while I was asleep she got up and dressed herself, and she is gone.""Let us be sure first," said Magnus, and the slow fellow shot through the house like a torpedo, while Anna sat on the chair by the door of her own room and wrung her hands and reproached herself."Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What have I done? How can I ever forgive myself? The poor child was not herself--she didn't know what she was doing."Magnus returned with a slow step, saying, "Be quiet, mother! Can't you see what has happened? Thora has gone to the child.""The child? The Factor's? God grant you may be right, Magnus. But she hasn't mentioned the baby for two days.""Nevertheless," said Magnus, "her poor heart has been torn to pieces by this accursed scheme of separating her from her child, and she has gone to join it.""Let us go and see," said Anna. "But, oh dear, what a thing to do! And she so ill and weak! It will kill her! Oh, why did I leave her for an instant? What will Oscar say?""If Oscar's wise he will say nothing," said Magnus. "And if anything happens, and he has any conscience, he'll damn himself to the last day of his life.""Don't say that, Magnus," said Anna. "If there was anything wrong we were all to blame for it. It wasn't Oscar's fault----""Certainly, it was Oscar's fault," said Magnus. "It was Oscar's fault that he allowed Helga to twist him round her finger and make you all her miserable slaves.""Where is my shawl? I laid it down somewhere, and now I can not find it. But let us go. And don't be hard on your mother, Magnus. She was trying to do her best----""It's not you I'm blaming, mother," said Magnus, "but if," he added, and his words came through his clinched teeth, "if there were a law in this infernal land to punish people like Oscar, as sure as I live I should be the first to use it."They were going out of the house when three men came up to the door--the Sheriff and two strangers."Good evening, Mrs. Anna," said the Sheriff. "These gentlemen are officials from Copenhagen, just arrived by the 'Laura.' They wish to see the Governor on an important matter, and I thought perhaps you could tell them when he will be back from Thingvellir.""I can't say--I don't know--I am in a great hurry," said Anna."This young man," said the Sheriff to the strangers, "is the elder son of the Governor, and if you would like to speak to him----""We should," answered the men."Is it so very important? My son is going out with me. Can't the matter wait until to-morrow?" said Anna."Go on ahead, mother--I'll follow you presently," said Magnus, and while Anna hurried away, he led the strangers into the Governor's office. One of the two men took a paper from an inner breast pocket and said:"Naturally, you know your father's handwriting?""I do," said Magnus."And of course you are familiar with his signature.""I am.""Will you be good enough to say if this is your father's signature?" said the man, opening his paper and handing it to Magnus.It was a note of hand in favor of Oscar Stephenson for an advance of one hundred thousand crowns, signed in the name of the Governor and witnessed by the Factor.The world reeled round Magnus, for he saw in a moment what the paper meant. It was almost as if his prayer to punish Oscar had been answered on the instant. The paper rustled in his hand and for some seconds he did not speak. Then he lifted his face and said:"You ask me if this is my father's signature. Don't you think it would be more proper to ask my father himself?""No doubt--certainly--you are right," said the stranger, "but to protect your father--not to say yourself perhaps----""Perhaps," said Magnus, and he handed the paper back."Magnus," said the Sheriff, "I was told to watch you if you came to town to-day, but it seems to me that somebody else in your family needs watching a good deal more. Will you not give us your assistance?"Magnus shuddered in the toils of his temptation. A voice within cried, "Speak! Denounce him! Now's your time!" His lower lip quivered, his eyelids trembled, and he answered in a hoarse voice:"The Governor will not be back until midnight--let me come to you to-morrow morning.""Good!" said the Sheriff, whereupon Magnus showed them out of the house and then fled away to the Factor's."That big fellow will speak when he wants to," said one of the strangers as the three men walked down the street, "and when he doesn't the devil himself won't make him do so."IVOf two ways to the Factor's Thora had taken the shortest and most frequented, yet she had gone through the streets unobserved. Coming near the house she had passed the Sheriff and the two strangers, but they were immersed in their conversation and did not see her as she stumbled by them with her head covered up in Anna's shawl.Twice she had stopped to take breath, and once she had steadied herself by a lamp-post, for she was dizzy and her ankles ached. The little distance which had hitherto seemed so short was now a great journey, but it came to an end at length, and she approached her father's house from the front.She had intended to creep up softly, enter by stealth, listen until she learned where the child was kept, watch until Aunt Margret left the little one alone for a moment and then steal into the room and take it.With this purpose she ascended the stone steps to the front entrance and gently turned the handle, but as soon as she had given the door a noiseless push, there was the loud ringing of a bell which had not been there before.At the next moment there was a sound of slippered feet coming hurriedly down-stairs and before her dizzy brain could tell what to do Aunt Margret was peering into her face."Mercy me, is it you?" cried Aunt Margret, and she looked as if she were ready to drop.With a crushing sense of failure Thora stood silent and her heart fluttered like a captured bird."Good Lord! How did you get here alone? And what on earth was Anna doing to let you come?" said Aunt Margret.Then with a convulsive little burst Thora said, "Anna knew nothing about it, Aunt Margret--she was asleep--I came to see baby." And then she broke down utterly, leaned against the doorpost and cried like a child.The kind soul with the sharp tongue could bear no more. "And so you shall, dear. Certainly you shall, my pretty poppet," she said with infinite compassion. "As sure as my name is Margret Neilsen you shall," she said again, with stern determination. "They have left me here as a watch-dog with an order that nobody is to come near the child, but that was meant for somebody else--somebody who was going to steal it--so they said--though what a grown man can want with a suckling infant it baffles my stupid old head to see. But what a silly I am to keep you at the door! Come up-stairs, my precious. Go before me, Thora, dear! That's right--but not so quick--you shall see your baby soon enough. And Thora, darling, if I haven't exactly tried to take it back to you it wasn't because I didn't love you, and feel for you, and suffer with you, my poor child, but because your father and Helga and even Oscar--no, the other way, Thora--baby is in the front bedroom.""Is she well?" said Thora, breathing quickly as she reached the landing."She's as well as well, and so rosy and bonny--look!" said Aunt Margret, pushing ahead of Thora and opening the bedroom door.But having climbed the stairs so much too rapidly, Thora paused at the threshold of the room and held her left hand hard against her side. "Wait! I can't go in yet," she said. "Not just yet, Aunt Margret. Is she asleep?""Yes, she's fast asleep, bless her!""Is that her breathing?""No, that's the cat. Yes, it is the baby. But come, my own, come," said Aunt Margret, and then, holding her breath, the young mother entered the room.The child was sleeping in a cradle with a hood covered with light blue lace, and its little head, streaked with yellow hair, lay red against the white pillow. A cat purred on the floor in a warm shaft from the setting sun, and all was sweet and peaceful."My baby! My baby!" cried Thora, and she sank down on her knees by the cot and stretched her arms over it like a bird covering its nest with her sheltering wings.The child was awakened by the soft gale of its mother's breath on its sleeping face and it began to cry, whereupon Thora gathered it in her arms and lifted it out of the cot and nursed it lovingly, holding its little plunging hand in her own hand, so thin and white and delicate."It's her bottle she wants, Thora," said Aunt Margret, "and here it is ready and waiting--I keep it warm on the top of the stove.""Let me give it her, let me give it her," cried Thora."Do you think you can, my pretty? But of course you can! My goodness, it's wonderful--when a person is a mother she can do anything with a baby. An angel seems to whisper, 'Do that,' and she does it, and it's just right for the child."The little creature was now sucking vigorously with its tiny face toward the mother's breast and its plump red hand on her pallid cheek."But it's you that wants milk, my child," said Aunt Margret. "Yes, and some spirits too, and you shall have both in a minute. Lay your poor head against this pillow, my precious, and wait while I get the decanter."The child was now dropping off to sleep and Thora looked lovingly down at it and said:"God bless my motherless baby!""Motherless, indeed! Who says she's motherless? She has too many mothers, it seems to me," said Aunt Margret.The tit slipped from the child's slackening lips, and Thora leaned down and kissed away the drops that trickled from the little mouth."I wish I could die," she said. "I wish I could die now, Aunt Margret."And Aunt Margret, who was snuffling audibly, said, "Die, indeed! Just drink off this drop of brandy and water and don't talk such nonsense."Thora drank the brandy and straightway her weakness left her, and with the return of her strength the secret purpose which had brought her to the house revived."I must be quick," she thought. "Anna will follow me."The innocent selfishness of her starved and injured motherhood knew no conscience, and she set herself to consider how she could get rid of Aunt Margret and so carry away the child. That was a perplexing problem, and she sat long to think it out, but accident solved it at last."Goodness me," Aunt Margret was saying, "how lovely you look, sitting there with the child! But what a fit some people would have if they could drop in and see you! They can't, thank goodness! They're thirty miles away, and before they get back you'll be gone, and nobody a penny the wiser. When the cat's away the mice will play! But mercy me, what a storm there would be if they ever came to know that I had let you touch the little angel! I don't know which is the worst on that subject--your father, or Oscar, or Helga. I think Helga is the worst if you ask me. You're a Neilsen, Thora, but Helga--she's a sheep from another sheepfold. She's so cute, and she has such ways with her. It was Helga who put those bells on the door, and when I heard you coming in I thought, 'It's that Sheriff again,' but you could have knocked me down with a feather--Good gracious!"Aunt Margret, who was looking out of the window, suddenly threw up her hands."What is it?" said Thora."It is--no--yes, it's Anna! And the Sheriff and two officers are coming behind her!""They're coming for me," cried Thora. "They want to tear me away from my baby. Go down and stop them, Aunt Margret. Say I'm not here--say I'm gone--say anything----""Hush, dear, don't excite yourself. Leave Margret Neilsen to manage this little matter. I'll take Anna and the Sheriff into the back parlor and tell them something. Then you'll slip out by the front and get back home and nobody will know.""Yes, yes, that will do," said Thora."You'll be as quiet as a mouse, and I'll make lots of noises.""Yes, yes, yes."There was the clang of a bell from below, and Aunt Margret whispered, "There they are! Now put baby back in the cot, my own, and cover her up with the blanket.""Not yet, let me kiss her again, just for the last time," said Thora.An agitated voice came from the bottom of the stairs, "Margret! Margret Neilsen!""I must go--be quick," whispered Aunt Margret, and scuttling down-stairs, she cried, "I'm coming," and then there was a rumble of confused voices, followed by the closing of a door.Thora was alone once more, and the feverish strength of outraged motherhood possessed her like a madness. "They've come to take my child again," she thought.In a moment she had slipped off her slippers, snatched up the blanket and wrapped it about the sleeping infant, crept down the stairs in stocking feet and out of the house by a back passage.VMeantime a little tragi-comedy was being acted in the back parlor. Anna was white and trembling, while Aunt Margret was looking wondrous wise and subtle."Thora?" gasped Anna. "Have you seen anything of Thora?""HaveIseen anything of Thora? You must be dreaming, Anna dear.""Then she has gone, and I was right after all," said Anna."Can it be possible?" said Aunt Margret."Magnus would have it that she had gone to see the baby, but she has gone farther than that, poor child, and we shall never see her again.""What a pity!" said Aunt Margret, and then Anna flew out at her."Margret Neilsen, don't you understand what I am saying? The poor child was demented, and she stole out while I was asleep and goodness knows what she has done with herself.""Hush! Hold your tongue, Anna, and come into this room and I'll tell you something. Magnus was right after all.""Then she has been here?""She's here now--she's up-stairs this very minute.""Oh, thank the Lord----""Don't speak, or the poor thing will hear you. And don't be angry with her either, and if you brought the Sheriff to take her back----""I brought the Sheriff! What are you saying, you crazy woman?""Then can't we let her stay a little longer? It isn't every day she has the chance----""She can stay all night for me, Margret.""That is impossible--the Factor is so frightened. And then there's the Governor----""That's true," said Anna."But she can safely stay an hour more with her child, can't she?" said Aunt Margret."Just one hour more," said Anna."Poor thing, she was to steal out while we were talking, but we'll go up and surprise her. And when you see her with the little mite at her breast, looking down at it and kissing it, with such a pitiful smile, the dear, it will fill your heart brimful. But for goodness' sake wipe your eyes and blow your nose, Anna, and do for mercy's sake look more cheerful. Quietly now, quietly, or she'll think the Sheriff is behind us."With that the two old things, snuffling as if they had colds in the head, but struggling to smile and seem happy, went creeping up to the bedroom.By that time the room was empty and Thora was gone.The women looked at each other for an instant, and then Aunt Margret ran to the cradle. The child was gone, too.At that moment the bell of the front door rang again. Aunt Margret cried, "There she is," and the two women raced down-stairs to see.It was Magnus coming in."Thora has been here, but she has gone--gone this very minute," cried Anna."And she has taken the child along with her," cried Aunt Margret.Without a word Magnus turned about and leapt back to the street. There he met the Sheriff and told him what had happened. At the next minute the two women were running hither and thither and the two men were gone different ways.Half an hour afterward they met at the Factor's house again. Thora and the child had not been found. They had disappeared as utterly as if a lava stream had swallowed them.The women were sitting side by side with blanched faces and startled eyes, twisting their handkerchiefs into knots."The doctor was quite right after all," said Anna. "They were all right, though we thought them so hard and cruel. The poor thing wanted to die--she told me so herself.""She told me too--she told me this very day," said Aunt Margret."Is there no house in town she was accustomed to go to?" asked the Sheriff."None," said Anna, and Aunt Margret said, "Thora was not like that--she would never drink coffee or talk scandal with any one.""Let us try again," said Magnus to the Sheriff.The sun had set over the fiord and the black rocks of the plain were dying out in the dusky haze of evening when the two men returned to the Factor's for the second time. Their search had been fruitless and Magnus's face was white and haggard.Anna and Aunt Margret sat in the parlor window stricken with grief, but finding a certain satisfaction in their affliction from the melancholy glances of groups of other women who had gathered in the street."I knew it would be useless," said Anna. "She's gone, poor dear--I'm afraid she's gone to heaven, poor darling.""And taken the little innocent infant along with her," said Aunt Margret."Has anybody thought of going back to Government House?" asked the Sheriff."I went there first," said Magnus."And to the lake?""I went there next.""And the jetty?""I went to the jetty also. But I don't believe Thora has destroyed herself," said Magnus."Then she has died of exhaustion by this time and it's all the same in any case," said Anna."She's in her stocking feet too--see," said Aunt Margret, showing the slippers which Thora had left up-stairs, and falling to kissing and weeping over them."There's one chance left--she may have tried to follow her husband," said Magnus."So far, and without a horse?" said the Sheriff."It's the last hope--I'm going to follow it up," said Magnus. "Mother," he added, "you had better go back home.""I can't--I daren't--and if anything happens I'll never be able to go into the poor girl's room again," said Anna.Outside, in the fading light, Magnus stood for a moment wiping the flanks of Golden Mane and patting his drooping neck."I suppose there isn't another horse left in the town," said the Sheriff, "but you'll kill your splendid pony.""Then he'll die well," said Magnus."Magnus," the Sheriff continued, "I intend to search every house in Reykjavik, and if I succeed to-night I'll expect you to help us in the morning.""If you don't succeed I'll help you," said Magnus, with a hoarse laugh, and at the next moment he was lost in the darkness.VIThora had done the most natural and therefore the most unexpected thing. Only thinking of getting back to her bed in Government House, and of carrying the child along with her, she had taken the simplest means toward doing so. In order to escape the Sheriff she had left her father's house by the back, and to avoid observation from people in the frequented thoroughfare she had taken the longer and quieter of the two roads home.This road led her past the lake, but she had no desire to destroy herself. Often before she had longed for death from the depths of her heart, but love for her child conquered all such feelings now. The way was very long, but she did not know that she was tired; the roads were rough, but she did not feel that they were cutting her feet; she was going fast, but she did not realize that she was breathless. She had only one fear--the fear of being overtaken; only one dread--the dread of the child being torn away from her.Clinging to the little one with feverish arms she hastened along, weeping to herself, laughing to herself, full of a wild joy that had no remorse, no qualms of any kind, and neither looked before nor after. It was motherhood--the most divine, the most devilish, the most tender, the most terrible, the most sweet, the most sublime, the most savage of all the passions of the heart.Reaching home at last she found the house silent, but every room wide open, as if lately ringing with the noise of hurrying feet. Creeping up-stairs with her precious burden she got safely back to her room, and instantly locked the door behind her. She laughed as she did so, thinking how Anna and Aunt Margret would follow her and find themselves defeated.Then she undressed and got back into bed and for one long, heavenly hour she gave herself up to the delight of having her child--to hold it, to nurse it, to fondle it, to kiss it, and to devour it with all her senses. The little creature had slept during its journey through the town, but now it awoke, and lay quiet by its mother's side while she ran her hungry hands over its tiny body and put its clinched fists and its feet one by one into her mouth.After a while the child tired and began to cry, whereupon Thora remembered for the first time that she had left its feeding-bottle behind her. She tried to hush it, but it would not be hushed, and then a sudden thought, a blind impulse of maternity, came to her, and she put the little one to her breast. The child clung to it and was quiet, and the milk, which had never come until now, instantly began to flow.It was the crowning miracle of that joyous hour, a physical rapture such as Thora had never known before.After that a more tender spirit stole over her, and she looked lovingly down at the child in her bosom and kissed it again and again, and said, "God bless my baby."Then in a voice so weak and silvery that it was like a voice descending from the sky, she began to sing the child to sleep:"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angela bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."The child slept, and even while she sang Thora became aware of alternate waves of heat and cold going over her. A vague, broken, delirious consciousness came and went, and people seemed to be entering and leaving the room. First it was Helga, then it was Oscar, and finally it was Magnus. Helga was taking the child out of the bed and Oscar was helping her, and she was trying to cry out and could not, when Magnus appeared in the doorway.At one moment she thought she was dead, and people were talking around her. They were all strangers, chiefly women whom she had seen going into the Salvation Shelter. "She's gone, poor girl," said some one, and somebody else said, "So much the better--the poor thing's troubles are over." "They say she tried to make away with herself," said one. "And what wonder?" said another. "There was no place left for her in this world." "Nobody can say she didn't love her husband," said a voice at her feet. "That was the pity--he loved her sister," said a voice above her. "Perhaps that was why she thought of taking her life--to leave him free--perhaps to make him happy?" "Well, she did wrong by Magnus, but we all know who killed her." And then everybody said in chorus, "He'll get his reward, he'll get his reward," and she was sorry for Oscar.At another moment she thought she was a blessed saint in paradise, with lilies and roses around her head, but there was a thorn in her heart for all that, and even among the joys of heaven she had a dull pain there was no ease for, because she could not help thinking about her baby. So she asked the dear God to let her go down to earth to see her little Elin, and He suffered her to come and she came. Oscar and Helga were together now, in a country that was sweet with smiling gardens and a house that was full of gilded furniture. But she could not see her Elin anywhere, until at length she found her in an upper room, neglected and lonely. Then the burning tears ran down her face and she sat by her child and comforted her, and Elin was not afraid. "Stay with me a little longer," said the child, and she stayed with her and sang to her, and no one heard but little Elin:"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angels bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."When she came to herself again it was dark in the bedroom, yet she was still singing. The baby began to cry and she wished to comfort it, but she found she could not speak. It's little body felt cold against her breast and she wanted to cover it up in the blanket, but her arms were heavy and she could not lift them.There was a moment of agonized consciousness, but the good Father sealed the senses of His suffering child again. She thought a majestic figure entered the room, clothed all in white, and lifted the baby out of her bosom, saying, "Suffer little children to come unto Me." She knew quite well who It was, but when she looked a second time the figure had the face of Magnus.Then it seemed to her that it was she herself and not the baby that had been lifted up, yet she felt no fear at all, nor any pain, nor any heartache.At that moment the women who had stood about the bed came back and they began to sing, "Safe in the arms of Jesus"--just as she had heard them singing it when she listened at the door of the Shelter.She smiled and drew a deep sigh; a sweet, long breath of joy and rapture; and then the darkness lifted and--it was day.
II
Meantime Thora at home was in the throes of a great temptation. She had heard the peace-making between Magnus and her husband and had said to herself, "Oscar will go to see Dr. Olesen at once, and the dear doctor will say: 'Certainly, the little mother is quite well enough now to take care of her baby--give the child back to her immediately.'" Then Oscar would come rushing up-stairs, and her room would be the same as if a window had blown open, and he would cry, "Hip-hip-hurrah! Doctor says baby may come back!" and then Anna would take him by the shoulders and turn him out and everybody would laugh.
But Oscar was long in coming, and when he came he said nothing about the doctor. He only talked about their little Elin, and said he had just returned from seeing her. She was so rosy and well, and she was beginning to "notice." If you held out your finger she looked at it as if it were the bough of a great tree, and then held it tight as if her little body hung by it.
"I couldn't tear myself away from her, Thora," he said. "It's wonderful what a lot of pleasure you can get out of a baby."
It was strange that Oscar did not see that he was hurting her every minute, but she only thought, "I know what it is--he is going to take me by surprise. He doesn't want to tell me that baby is coming until she comes. He will bring her back as he took her away, in the night, while I am asleep; and when I awake in the morning she will be there."
In this sweet hope Thora closed her eyes early that evening, before the red glow of the sunset had quite gone from the walls of her room, saying a little prayer for Oscar, and another little prayer for Elin, that she might be as lovely as ever when she saw her in the morning; and then she fell asleep.
When she awoke next day she listened for the baby's breathing, and thinking she heard it she stretched out a gentle hand to the place where the child should lie, and then with a smile she opened her eyes. But her baby was not there, and the sun in the room died out.
When the doctor came to see her that morning he looked grave and anxious. "I'm afraid my little patient is worrying overmuch," he said. "The head is hot and there is some fever. She must lie quiet, perfectly quiet for the next few days, or I won't answer for what may happen."
Only this, not a word about baby, and even when the doctor took Anna into the nursery to give the usual instructions Thora listened intently, but there was not a syllable about the child.
The Governor came next, with the odor of snuff on his gold-laced coat, and he stroked Thora's arm as it lay on the counterpane, and said she was not to worry about anything.
"My dear little daughter must get better as fast as ever she can," he said. "She must eat more and if she wants anything she must ask for it and she shall have it, whatever it is."
She tried to say that all she wanted was her little baby, and if they would give her that she would soon be well, but her throat was hurting and she could not speak.
Her own father came last, smelling of breakfast and strong tobacco, and he rallied her in a loud voice.
"Tut, tut! This will never do! We'll have to send you away again, with Helga to look after you. And look here, young lady, you've got to get better soon and come and carry away that baby. She's turning our house upside down. Nobody over there can see the sun for that little mite, and Aunt Margret and Auntie Helga haven't a thought for anybody else."
By this time the conviction had forced itself upon Thora's mind that the family had agreed that the child was not to be returned to her, and that Helga was responsible for this cruel resolution. Then a fierce passion took possession of her, such as she had never known before. She hated her sister with a terrible hatred. Helga, who had first robbed her of her husband, had now robbed her of her child, and throwing dust in her people's eyes had used her weakness as an excuse and a blind. But she would defeat her, she would defeat everybody, she would get back her child whatever the consequences, and not all the powers of earth or heaven or hell should take it away from her again.
The intensity of her feeling, if it could have been realized by those about her, would have made her sweet and gentle soul unrecognizable. She was like a feline animal robbed of its young and going out to recover it. All the other passions and emotions that had ever possessed her--love of her husband, affection for Anna and Aunt Margret and her father and the Governor, pity for Magnus and tenderness toward all living things--were burnt up by the one consuming desire--the desire for her child. It made her terrible, it made her cruel, it made her cunning.
Thora determined to steal back her own child.
The following day--the day of the Proclamation--would give her an opportunity of doing so. Nearly everybody would then be at Thingvellir, therefore her path would be more clear. Only Anna would stay at home to attend to herself, and Aunt Margret to attend to the child. Her one feverish anxiety was that Oscar should not stay behind as well, for if Oscar were to remain Helga would remain also and then her scheme would come to naught.
Thora lay awake the whole night through. Before daybreak she heard the people shouting in the darkness; at dawn she heard the departure of the Governor, and when Oscar called up at her window she knew that Helga was with him, for she heard the hoofs of two horses.
When everybody had gone she lay back on her pillow with a sigh of immense relief.
"How soon will they be back, mother?" she asked.
"Not much before midnight, I'm afraid. But you must not fret after anybody, my child, for everything shall be done for you," said Anna.
Then the transparent young soul, in the fierce fire of its temptation, began to lay plans for deceiving Anna and for getting her out of the way. At one moment she said:
"Haven't you any errands to do this morning, dear--in the town, I mean--being left alone, you know, and even the servants gone?"
"Errands? Bless your dear heart, it's like Sunday in town to-day and not a shop open anywhere," said Anna.
At another moment Thora said:
"Mother, if you wish to go down into the kitchen to cook you needn't think of me?"
"The cooking is all done, dear," said Anna. "Maria did it yesterday, and I've nothing to do now but warm up the dishes on the nursery stove. So I needn't leave you for a minute, you see."
Thora was beginning to be restless in her perplexity, but presently she thought, "I know! I'll tell her to lie down after dinner, and then I'll get up and dress and go."
That suggested thoughts about her clothes, which had been taken off on the night of her attack and packed away somewhere. There would be drawers to open and search, and that would take time and make noises. So she said:
"Mother, dear, don't you think my clothes must be getting damp lying so long unused?"
"Damp? In five days and the middle of summer, too!" cried Anna.
"Still, it would be nice to see them airing--it would make me think of getting up, you know."
"Then you shall, sweetheart, certainly you shall," said Anna, and with the playfulness of one who indulges a child the good soul took Thora's clothes out of a wardrobe, held them up to her one by one, and then hung them on the chairs in front of the stove in the nursery, clucking and crowing of the day when Thora would put them on and go down-stairs, with wraps and scarves, and Oscar helping her.
Thora watched intently and then said:
"I haven't seen my cloak yet, mother."
"Your cloak! Your outdoor cloak! Bless me, what a heart she has to be sure! But no, no! We'll all be dancing with delight if you need that for the next three weeks, Thora."
The hours lagged cruelly before dinner, and after it the sun's line on the wall was long in leaving the bed; but at last three o'clock struck on the Bornholme clock below stairs and then Thora said:
"Mother, I'm sure you are very tired--I wish you would go to your room and rest."
"And leave my honey alone? Not I," said Anna.
"But I want to rest myself and I can't rest unless you are resting."
"If you really think you'll sleep better----"
"I'm sure I shall," said Thora.
"Well--seeing you slept so little last night," said Anna, and Thora began to yawn and sigh.
"I'll leave both doors open then. And see, Thora--I'll put this little handbell on the table, and if you awake and want me--I sleep like a cat, you know, the least noise wakens me----"
"Good night, mother," said Thora in a drowsy tone, and Anna, smiling and nodding to herself over Thora's "error," stole on tiptoe out of the room.
Thora listened for the last footfall in the corridor and then raised herself in bed. She was alone at last, and the time had come to defeat the conspiracy of love and kindness, prompted by jealousy and envy, that had robbed her of her child. Her child, her child! She must get back her child, whatever it might cost her!
She dropped to the floor and in doing so she brushed the hand-bell off the table. It fell to the carpet with a deadened clang, and for a moment she held her breath and listened. But there was no sound from Anna's room, so she clutched at the bedclothes and stood erect. Then the walls went round, and she knew for the first time how weak she was. But her heart was strong if her limbs were feeble, and she found her way to the nursery, where her clothes still hung over the backs of chairs. It was a weary task to put them on, but her purpose never flagged. At last she was dressed and looking at herself in the glass. Her eyes were red, her lips were pale, and her cheeks were sucked in and white. Nobody would know her who met her in the street, yet still if she could find her cloak----
The Bornholme clock chimed half past three, and Thora began to steal down the corridor. She had to go by Anna's bedroom and the door was standing open. Anna's shawl lay on a chair within and she snatched it up and wrapped it over her shoulders and her head. Then she went down-stairs. Her limbs trembled under her, but not from fear, and if anybody had tried to stop her now she would have fought like a fiend.
"My child is mine!" she thought. "What right have they to keep her from me?"
The next moment she was in the street.
III
The Bornholme clock struck four. Anna awoke and hearing no sound from Thora's room she went back to the nursery and busied herself noiselessly at the stove.
Presently the lace curtains in the bedroom were rustled by the wind from an open window and Anna cried through the door:
"Lie quiet, Thora--I'm making tea," and then she began to sing to herself in the voice of her youth.
A few minutes later she said, "That sleep must have made me stupid--I've actually put in the hot water before the tea-leaves."
Soon afterwards she sailed into Thora's room with the tea tray in both hands and a smile on her face, saying, "Here it is, but you'll thank your stars when Maria comes back in the morning."
She was setting down the tray on the round table by the bedside where the hand-bell should have been, when her eyes fell on the empty bed. Her breath jumped in her throat, and she turned her head slowly over her shoulder, calling, "Thora!"
There was no answer; the room was empty. Anna remembered the clothes which she had laid out on the chairs in the nursery. They were gone. "Thora! Thora!" she cried, in an agitated whisper.
Then the smile came back to her face. "I know," she thought. "Thora has dressed herself and gone down to the drawing-room, just to show me what she can do."
At that thought the smile was chased away by a mighty frown. "But I'll give it her," she thought, and downstairs she went with a determined step and banged the drawing-room door back saying, "Really, Thora, it is very naughty----"
But the protest died in her throat, for Thora was not there. Then her heart shook like a leaf stiffened by hoar frost and she ran through the house, from room to room, crying in a voice shrill with fear and thickened by sobs, "Thora, where are you? Thora! Honey! Don't hide yourself from me! Thora! Thora!"
At that moment Golden Mane came tolting up to the green and Magnus entered the house. Hearing his mother's voice he ran up-stairs, and came face to face with Anna in the corridor.
"What has happened?" he asked.
"Thora's lost," said Anna.
"Lost?"
"She coaxed me to lie down this afternoon, and while I was asleep she got up and dressed herself, and she is gone."
"Let us be sure first," said Magnus, and the slow fellow shot through the house like a torpedo, while Anna sat on the chair by the door of her own room and wrung her hands and reproached herself.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What have I done? How can I ever forgive myself? The poor child was not herself--she didn't know what she was doing."
Magnus returned with a slow step, saying, "Be quiet, mother! Can't you see what has happened? Thora has gone to the child."
"The child? The Factor's? God grant you may be right, Magnus. But she hasn't mentioned the baby for two days."
"Nevertheless," said Magnus, "her poor heart has been torn to pieces by this accursed scheme of separating her from her child, and she has gone to join it."
"Let us go and see," said Anna. "But, oh dear, what a thing to do! And she so ill and weak! It will kill her! Oh, why did I leave her for an instant? What will Oscar say?"
"If Oscar's wise he will say nothing," said Magnus. "And if anything happens, and he has any conscience, he'll damn himself to the last day of his life."
"Don't say that, Magnus," said Anna. "If there was anything wrong we were all to blame for it. It wasn't Oscar's fault----"
"Certainly, it was Oscar's fault," said Magnus. "It was Oscar's fault that he allowed Helga to twist him round her finger and make you all her miserable slaves."
"Where is my shawl? I laid it down somewhere, and now I can not find it. But let us go. And don't be hard on your mother, Magnus. She was trying to do her best----"
"It's not you I'm blaming, mother," said Magnus, "but if," he added, and his words came through his clinched teeth, "if there were a law in this infernal land to punish people like Oscar, as sure as I live I should be the first to use it."
They were going out of the house when three men came up to the door--the Sheriff and two strangers.
"Good evening, Mrs. Anna," said the Sheriff. "These gentlemen are officials from Copenhagen, just arrived by the 'Laura.' They wish to see the Governor on an important matter, and I thought perhaps you could tell them when he will be back from Thingvellir."
"I can't say--I don't know--I am in a great hurry," said Anna.
"This young man," said the Sheriff to the strangers, "is the elder son of the Governor, and if you would like to speak to him----"
"We should," answered the men.
"Is it so very important? My son is going out with me. Can't the matter wait until to-morrow?" said Anna.
"Go on ahead, mother--I'll follow you presently," said Magnus, and while Anna hurried away, he led the strangers into the Governor's office. One of the two men took a paper from an inner breast pocket and said:
"Naturally, you know your father's handwriting?"
"I do," said Magnus.
"And of course you are familiar with his signature."
"I am."
"Will you be good enough to say if this is your father's signature?" said the man, opening his paper and handing it to Magnus.
It was a note of hand in favor of Oscar Stephenson for an advance of one hundred thousand crowns, signed in the name of the Governor and witnessed by the Factor.
The world reeled round Magnus, for he saw in a moment what the paper meant. It was almost as if his prayer to punish Oscar had been answered on the instant. The paper rustled in his hand and for some seconds he did not speak. Then he lifted his face and said:
"You ask me if this is my father's signature. Don't you think it would be more proper to ask my father himself?"
"No doubt--certainly--you are right," said the stranger, "but to protect your father--not to say yourself perhaps----"
"Perhaps," said Magnus, and he handed the paper back.
"Magnus," said the Sheriff, "I was told to watch you if you came to town to-day, but it seems to me that somebody else in your family needs watching a good deal more. Will you not give us your assistance?"
Magnus shuddered in the toils of his temptation. A voice within cried, "Speak! Denounce him! Now's your time!" His lower lip quivered, his eyelids trembled, and he answered in a hoarse voice:
"The Governor will not be back until midnight--let me come to you to-morrow morning."
"Good!" said the Sheriff, whereupon Magnus showed them out of the house and then fled away to the Factor's.
"That big fellow will speak when he wants to," said one of the strangers as the three men walked down the street, "and when he doesn't the devil himself won't make him do so."
IV
Of two ways to the Factor's Thora had taken the shortest and most frequented, yet she had gone through the streets unobserved. Coming near the house she had passed the Sheriff and the two strangers, but they were immersed in their conversation and did not see her as she stumbled by them with her head covered up in Anna's shawl.
Twice she had stopped to take breath, and once she had steadied herself by a lamp-post, for she was dizzy and her ankles ached. The little distance which had hitherto seemed so short was now a great journey, but it came to an end at length, and she approached her father's house from the front.
She had intended to creep up softly, enter by stealth, listen until she learned where the child was kept, watch until Aunt Margret left the little one alone for a moment and then steal into the room and take it.
With this purpose she ascended the stone steps to the front entrance and gently turned the handle, but as soon as she had given the door a noiseless push, there was the loud ringing of a bell which had not been there before.
At the next moment there was a sound of slippered feet coming hurriedly down-stairs and before her dizzy brain could tell what to do Aunt Margret was peering into her face.
"Mercy me, is it you?" cried Aunt Margret, and she looked as if she were ready to drop.
With a crushing sense of failure Thora stood silent and her heart fluttered like a captured bird.
"Good Lord! How did you get here alone? And what on earth was Anna doing to let you come?" said Aunt Margret.
Then with a convulsive little burst Thora said, "Anna knew nothing about it, Aunt Margret--she was asleep--I came to see baby." And then she broke down utterly, leaned against the doorpost and cried like a child.
The kind soul with the sharp tongue could bear no more. "And so you shall, dear. Certainly you shall, my pretty poppet," she said with infinite compassion. "As sure as my name is Margret Neilsen you shall," she said again, with stern determination. "They have left me here as a watch-dog with an order that nobody is to come near the child, but that was meant for somebody else--somebody who was going to steal it--so they said--though what a grown man can want with a suckling infant it baffles my stupid old head to see. But what a silly I am to keep you at the door! Come up-stairs, my precious. Go before me, Thora, dear! That's right--but not so quick--you shall see your baby soon enough. And Thora, darling, if I haven't exactly tried to take it back to you it wasn't because I didn't love you, and feel for you, and suffer with you, my poor child, but because your father and Helga and even Oscar--no, the other way, Thora--baby is in the front bedroom."
"Is she well?" said Thora, breathing quickly as she reached the landing.
"She's as well as well, and so rosy and bonny--look!" said Aunt Margret, pushing ahead of Thora and opening the bedroom door.
But having climbed the stairs so much too rapidly, Thora paused at the threshold of the room and held her left hand hard against her side. "Wait! I can't go in yet," she said. "Not just yet, Aunt Margret. Is she asleep?"
"Yes, she's fast asleep, bless her!"
"Is that her breathing?"
"No, that's the cat. Yes, it is the baby. But come, my own, come," said Aunt Margret, and then, holding her breath, the young mother entered the room.
The child was sleeping in a cradle with a hood covered with light blue lace, and its little head, streaked with yellow hair, lay red against the white pillow. A cat purred on the floor in a warm shaft from the setting sun, and all was sweet and peaceful.
"My baby! My baby!" cried Thora, and she sank down on her knees by the cot and stretched her arms over it like a bird covering its nest with her sheltering wings.
The child was awakened by the soft gale of its mother's breath on its sleeping face and it began to cry, whereupon Thora gathered it in her arms and lifted it out of the cot and nursed it lovingly, holding its little plunging hand in her own hand, so thin and white and delicate.
"It's her bottle she wants, Thora," said Aunt Margret, "and here it is ready and waiting--I keep it warm on the top of the stove."
"Let me give it her, let me give it her," cried Thora.
"Do you think you can, my pretty? But of course you can! My goodness, it's wonderful--when a person is a mother she can do anything with a baby. An angel seems to whisper, 'Do that,' and she does it, and it's just right for the child."
The little creature was now sucking vigorously with its tiny face toward the mother's breast and its plump red hand on her pallid cheek.
"But it's you that wants milk, my child," said Aunt Margret. "Yes, and some spirits too, and you shall have both in a minute. Lay your poor head against this pillow, my precious, and wait while I get the decanter."
The child was now dropping off to sleep and Thora looked lovingly down at it and said:
"God bless my motherless baby!"
"Motherless, indeed! Who says she's motherless? She has too many mothers, it seems to me," said Aunt Margret.
The tit slipped from the child's slackening lips, and Thora leaned down and kissed away the drops that trickled from the little mouth.
"I wish I could die," she said. "I wish I could die now, Aunt Margret."
And Aunt Margret, who was snuffling audibly, said, "Die, indeed! Just drink off this drop of brandy and water and don't talk such nonsense."
Thora drank the brandy and straightway her weakness left her, and with the return of her strength the secret purpose which had brought her to the house revived.
"I must be quick," she thought. "Anna will follow me."
The innocent selfishness of her starved and injured motherhood knew no conscience, and she set herself to consider how she could get rid of Aunt Margret and so carry away the child. That was a perplexing problem, and she sat long to think it out, but accident solved it at last.
"Goodness me," Aunt Margret was saying, "how lovely you look, sitting there with the child! But what a fit some people would have if they could drop in and see you! They can't, thank goodness! They're thirty miles away, and before they get back you'll be gone, and nobody a penny the wiser. When the cat's away the mice will play! But mercy me, what a storm there would be if they ever came to know that I had let you touch the little angel! I don't know which is the worst on that subject--your father, or Oscar, or Helga. I think Helga is the worst if you ask me. You're a Neilsen, Thora, but Helga--she's a sheep from another sheepfold. She's so cute, and she has such ways with her. It was Helga who put those bells on the door, and when I heard you coming in I thought, 'It's that Sheriff again,' but you could have knocked me down with a feather--Good gracious!"
Aunt Margret, who was looking out of the window, suddenly threw up her hands.
"What is it?" said Thora.
"It is--no--yes, it's Anna! And the Sheriff and two officers are coming behind her!"
"They're coming for me," cried Thora. "They want to tear me away from my baby. Go down and stop them, Aunt Margret. Say I'm not here--say I'm gone--say anything----"
"Hush, dear, don't excite yourself. Leave Margret Neilsen to manage this little matter. I'll take Anna and the Sheriff into the back parlor and tell them something. Then you'll slip out by the front and get back home and nobody will know."
"Yes, yes, that will do," said Thora.
"You'll be as quiet as a mouse, and I'll make lots of noises."
"Yes, yes, yes."
There was the clang of a bell from below, and Aunt Margret whispered, "There they are! Now put baby back in the cot, my own, and cover her up with the blanket."
"Not yet, let me kiss her again, just for the last time," said Thora.
An agitated voice came from the bottom of the stairs, "Margret! Margret Neilsen!"
"I must go--be quick," whispered Aunt Margret, and scuttling down-stairs, she cried, "I'm coming," and then there was a rumble of confused voices, followed by the closing of a door.
Thora was alone once more, and the feverish strength of outraged motherhood possessed her like a madness. "They've come to take my child again," she thought.
In a moment she had slipped off her slippers, snatched up the blanket and wrapped it about the sleeping infant, crept down the stairs in stocking feet and out of the house by a back passage.
V
Meantime a little tragi-comedy was being acted in the back parlor. Anna was white and trembling, while Aunt Margret was looking wondrous wise and subtle.
"Thora?" gasped Anna. "Have you seen anything of Thora?"
"HaveIseen anything of Thora? You must be dreaming, Anna dear."
"Then she has gone, and I was right after all," said Anna.
"Can it be possible?" said Aunt Margret.
"Magnus would have it that she had gone to see the baby, but she has gone farther than that, poor child, and we shall never see her again."
"What a pity!" said Aunt Margret, and then Anna flew out at her.
"Margret Neilsen, don't you understand what I am saying? The poor child was demented, and she stole out while I was asleep and goodness knows what she has done with herself."
"Hush! Hold your tongue, Anna, and come into this room and I'll tell you something. Magnus was right after all."
"Then she has been here?"
"She's here now--she's up-stairs this very minute."
"Oh, thank the Lord----"
"Don't speak, or the poor thing will hear you. And don't be angry with her either, and if you brought the Sheriff to take her back----"
"I brought the Sheriff! What are you saying, you crazy woman?"
"Then can't we let her stay a little longer? It isn't every day she has the chance----"
"She can stay all night for me, Margret."
"That is impossible--the Factor is so frightened. And then there's the Governor----"
"That's true," said Anna.
"But she can safely stay an hour more with her child, can't she?" said Aunt Margret.
"Just one hour more," said Anna.
"Poor thing, she was to steal out while we were talking, but we'll go up and surprise her. And when you see her with the little mite at her breast, looking down at it and kissing it, with such a pitiful smile, the dear, it will fill your heart brimful. But for goodness' sake wipe your eyes and blow your nose, Anna, and do for mercy's sake look more cheerful. Quietly now, quietly, or she'll think the Sheriff is behind us."
With that the two old things, snuffling as if they had colds in the head, but struggling to smile and seem happy, went creeping up to the bedroom.
By that time the room was empty and Thora was gone.
The women looked at each other for an instant, and then Aunt Margret ran to the cradle. The child was gone, too.
At that moment the bell of the front door rang again. Aunt Margret cried, "There she is," and the two women raced down-stairs to see.
It was Magnus coming in.
"Thora has been here, but she has gone--gone this very minute," cried Anna.
"And she has taken the child along with her," cried Aunt Margret.
Without a word Magnus turned about and leapt back to the street. There he met the Sheriff and told him what had happened. At the next minute the two women were running hither and thither and the two men were gone different ways.
Half an hour afterward they met at the Factor's house again. Thora and the child had not been found. They had disappeared as utterly as if a lava stream had swallowed them.
The women were sitting side by side with blanched faces and startled eyes, twisting their handkerchiefs into knots.
"The doctor was quite right after all," said Anna. "They were all right, though we thought them so hard and cruel. The poor thing wanted to die--she told me so herself."
"She told me too--she told me this very day," said Aunt Margret.
"Is there no house in town she was accustomed to go to?" asked the Sheriff.
"None," said Anna, and Aunt Margret said, "Thora was not like that--she would never drink coffee or talk scandal with any one."
"Let us try again," said Magnus to the Sheriff.
The sun had set over the fiord and the black rocks of the plain were dying out in the dusky haze of evening when the two men returned to the Factor's for the second time. Their search had been fruitless and Magnus's face was white and haggard.
Anna and Aunt Margret sat in the parlor window stricken with grief, but finding a certain satisfaction in their affliction from the melancholy glances of groups of other women who had gathered in the street.
"I knew it would be useless," said Anna. "She's gone, poor dear--I'm afraid she's gone to heaven, poor darling."
"And taken the little innocent infant along with her," said Aunt Margret.
"Has anybody thought of going back to Government House?" asked the Sheriff.
"I went there first," said Magnus.
"And to the lake?"
"I went there next."
"And the jetty?"
"I went to the jetty also. But I don't believe Thora has destroyed herself," said Magnus.
"Then she has died of exhaustion by this time and it's all the same in any case," said Anna.
"She's in her stocking feet too--see," said Aunt Margret, showing the slippers which Thora had left up-stairs, and falling to kissing and weeping over them.
"There's one chance left--she may have tried to follow her husband," said Magnus.
"So far, and without a horse?" said the Sheriff.
"It's the last hope--I'm going to follow it up," said Magnus. "Mother," he added, "you had better go back home."
"I can't--I daren't--and if anything happens I'll never be able to go into the poor girl's room again," said Anna.
Outside, in the fading light, Magnus stood for a moment wiping the flanks of Golden Mane and patting his drooping neck.
"I suppose there isn't another horse left in the town," said the Sheriff, "but you'll kill your splendid pony."
"Then he'll die well," said Magnus.
"Magnus," the Sheriff continued, "I intend to search every house in Reykjavik, and if I succeed to-night I'll expect you to help us in the morning."
"If you don't succeed I'll help you," said Magnus, with a hoarse laugh, and at the next moment he was lost in the darkness.
VI
Thora had done the most natural and therefore the most unexpected thing. Only thinking of getting back to her bed in Government House, and of carrying the child along with her, she had taken the simplest means toward doing so. In order to escape the Sheriff she had left her father's house by the back, and to avoid observation from people in the frequented thoroughfare she had taken the longer and quieter of the two roads home.
This road led her past the lake, but she had no desire to destroy herself. Often before she had longed for death from the depths of her heart, but love for her child conquered all such feelings now. The way was very long, but she did not know that she was tired; the roads were rough, but she did not feel that they were cutting her feet; she was going fast, but she did not realize that she was breathless. She had only one fear--the fear of being overtaken; only one dread--the dread of the child being torn away from her.
Clinging to the little one with feverish arms she hastened along, weeping to herself, laughing to herself, full of a wild joy that had no remorse, no qualms of any kind, and neither looked before nor after. It was motherhood--the most divine, the most devilish, the most tender, the most terrible, the most sweet, the most sublime, the most savage of all the passions of the heart.
Reaching home at last she found the house silent, but every room wide open, as if lately ringing with the noise of hurrying feet. Creeping up-stairs with her precious burden she got safely back to her room, and instantly locked the door behind her. She laughed as she did so, thinking how Anna and Aunt Margret would follow her and find themselves defeated.
Then she undressed and got back into bed and for one long, heavenly hour she gave herself up to the delight of having her child--to hold it, to nurse it, to fondle it, to kiss it, and to devour it with all her senses. The little creature had slept during its journey through the town, but now it awoke, and lay quiet by its mother's side while she ran her hungry hands over its tiny body and put its clinched fists and its feet one by one into her mouth.
After a while the child tired and began to cry, whereupon Thora remembered for the first time that she had left its feeding-bottle behind her. She tried to hush it, but it would not be hushed, and then a sudden thought, a blind impulse of maternity, came to her, and she put the little one to her breast. The child clung to it and was quiet, and the milk, which had never come until now, instantly began to flow.
It was the crowning miracle of that joyous hour, a physical rapture such as Thora had never known before.
After that a more tender spirit stole over her, and she looked lovingly down at the child in her bosom and kissed it again and again, and said, "God bless my baby."
Then in a voice so weak and silvery that it was like a voice descending from the sky, she began to sing the child to sleep:
"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angela bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."
"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angela bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."
"Sleep, baby, sleep,
Angela bright thy slumbers keep,
Sleep, baby, sleep."
The child slept, and even while she sang Thora became aware of alternate waves of heat and cold going over her. A vague, broken, delirious consciousness came and went, and people seemed to be entering and leaving the room. First it was Helga, then it was Oscar, and finally it was Magnus. Helga was taking the child out of the bed and Oscar was helping her, and she was trying to cry out and could not, when Magnus appeared in the doorway.
At one moment she thought she was dead, and people were talking around her. They were all strangers, chiefly women whom she had seen going into the Salvation Shelter. "She's gone, poor girl," said some one, and somebody else said, "So much the better--the poor thing's troubles are over." "They say she tried to make away with herself," said one. "And what wonder?" said another. "There was no place left for her in this world." "Nobody can say she didn't love her husband," said a voice at her feet. "That was the pity--he loved her sister," said a voice above her. "Perhaps that was why she thought of taking her life--to leave him free--perhaps to make him happy?" "Well, she did wrong by Magnus, but we all know who killed her." And then everybody said in chorus, "He'll get his reward, he'll get his reward," and she was sorry for Oscar.
At another moment she thought she was a blessed saint in paradise, with lilies and roses around her head, but there was a thorn in her heart for all that, and even among the joys of heaven she had a dull pain there was no ease for, because she could not help thinking about her baby. So she asked the dear God to let her go down to earth to see her little Elin, and He suffered her to come and she came. Oscar and Helga were together now, in a country that was sweet with smiling gardens and a house that was full of gilded furniture. But she could not see her Elin anywhere, until at length she found her in an upper room, neglected and lonely. Then the burning tears ran down her face and she sat by her child and comforted her, and Elin was not afraid. "Stay with me a little longer," said the child, and she stayed with her and sang to her, and no one heard but little Elin:
"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angels bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."
"Sleep, baby, sleep,Angels bright thy slumbers keep,Sleep, baby, sleep."
"Sleep, baby, sleep,
Angels bright thy slumbers keep,
Sleep, baby, sleep."
When she came to herself again it was dark in the bedroom, yet she was still singing. The baby began to cry and she wished to comfort it, but she found she could not speak. It's little body felt cold against her breast and she wanted to cover it up in the blanket, but her arms were heavy and she could not lift them.
There was a moment of agonized consciousness, but the good Father sealed the senses of His suffering child again. She thought a majestic figure entered the room, clothed all in white, and lifted the baby out of her bosom, saying, "Suffer little children to come unto Me." She knew quite well who It was, but when she looked a second time the figure had the face of Magnus.
Then it seemed to her that it was she herself and not the baby that had been lifted up, yet she felt no fear at all, nor any pain, nor any heartache.
At that moment the women who had stood about the bed came back and they began to sing, "Safe in the arms of Jesus"--just as she had heard them singing it when she listened at the door of the Shelter.
She smiled and drew a deep sigh; a sweet, long breath of joy and rapture; and then the darkness lifted and--it was day.