Garman And Worse A Norwegian Novel - Alexander Lange Kielland (best way to read ebooks txt) 📗

Chapter 25 Pg 157

 

Thus Passed Six Years. According To Martens'S Prediction,  Dean Sparre

Had Been Made A Bishop. His Predecessor In Office Had Been A Strict And

Haughty Prelate,  And There Was,  Therefore,  No Little Disturbance In The

Camp When He Departed. But From The Moment Dean Sparre Mounted The

Vacant Seat,  All Friction Ceased,  And Everything Went On Evenly And

Smoothly. It Was Like Covering The Hammers Of An Old Piano With New

Felt. The Hitherto Sharp Tone Gives Place To A Soft And Agreeable Sound;

And After Dean Sparre'S Patent Felt Had Been Introduced Into The

Mechanism,  It All Worked Silently And Noiselessly,  And Gave The Greatest

Pleasure To All Parties Concerned.

 

The Bishop Did Not Forget His Young Friend,  Inspector Johnsen,  Of Whom

He Had Always Had Such "Good Hopes." He Obtained For Johnsen A

Chaplaincy In His Cathedral Town; And Some People Were So Mischievous As

To Assert That The Bishop'S "Good Hopes" Were Now Fulfilled,  For Pastor

Johnsen Was Shortly After Engaged To Miss Barbara Sparre.

 

A Great Change Had Taken Place In The _Ci-Devant_ School Inspector. When

The Turning-Point Was Once Reached,  He Set To Work In His New Line In

Chapter 25 Pg 158

Real Earnest,  As Was Only To Be Expected From One Of His Energetic

Character. He Never Dabbled Any More In advanced Philosophy,  And Had But

Little To Do With Grand Society; On The Contrary,  He Grew To Be A

Clergyman To Whom The Women Were Particularly Attracted. His Sermons

Were Always Severe,  Very Severe; And Those Who Cared To Listen Closely,

Might Remark That He Never Repeated The Prayer For The Arms Of The

Country By Land And By Sea.

 

Down At Mrs. Worse'S Shop,  In The Dark Corner Of The Lane,  Trade Went On

Regularly And Well. Little Pitter Nilken Had Arrived At That Stage Of

Shriveldom,  At Which Both Fruits And People Cannot Hold Out Much Longer

Without A Change. He Still Managed To Swing Himself Over The Counter As

Lightly As A Cork When The Enemy Became Too Troublesome,  And The

Redoubtable Iron Ruler Had Lost None Of Its Gruesome Terrors.

 

Mrs. Worse,  On The Contrary,  Had Become Rather Stout In The Course Of

Years. Her Legs Would No Longer "Balance" Her Properly,  As She Said. But

Still She Refused To Buy A Carriage Until All Had "Come Right," Which

She Thought Could Not Be Long Now.

 

When All Had Come Right! It Required A Faith As Blind As Mrs. Worse'S To

Reckon On Such A Possibility. Rachel Had Now Been Six Years In Paris

Without Saying A Word About Coming Home. What Her Occupation There

Really Was,  Jacob Worse Could Never Discover. Each Time He Sent Her

Money--And It Was Marvellous How Much She Used--He Wrote Her A Few

Lines. She Always Answered Briefly And Reservedly. Through His Friend

Mr. Barnett He Did Not Learn Anything Explicit. He Only Knew That Rachel

Was Still Living In The House,  And That They Were Much Attached To Her.

Mrs. Barnett'S _Salon_ Was Quite A Place Of Assembly For The American

Colony,  Among Which Were Many Rich And Accomplished Men. Any Day Might

Bring The Intelligence Of Her Approaching Marriage.

 

Worse Was In The Habit Of Reading The Papers Every Morning As They Sat

At Breakfast In His Mother'S Room. One Day Mrs. Worse,  Who Usually

Occupied Herself Half The Morning With Her Paper,  Read Out To Her Son

That Pastor Martens Had Been Nominated As Clergyman In The Town.

 

"Just Fancy! So They Are Coming Westward Again!" Ejaculated Mrs. Worse.

"I Should Like To Know How Little Madeleine Has Got On In Married Life,"

Sighed The Old Woman,  Who Knew But Too Well The Uncertainty Which

Marriage Brings With It. The News Awoke Many Painful Recollections In

Worse'S Breast,  And He Paced Up And Down In His Office For A Long Time,

Before He Could Bring Himself To Begin Upon The Foreign Post,  Which Lay

In A Formidable Packet On His Desk.

 

Among The Letters There Was One From Barnett Brothers In Paris; He Knew

The Handwriting,  But The Office Stamp Was Missing. As He Opened It,  It

Struck Him That It Was Longer Than Usual. He Turned It Over Hastily.

What Was This? Rachel Carman'S Signature Stood At The Foot Of The

Letter! Jacob Worse Read As Follows:--

 

"Dear Mr. Worse,

 

"As I Sit Down To Write To You,  And Thus Carry Out A Long-Formed

Resolution,  I Feel So Overcome By Emotion,  That I Find It Difficult To

Control Myself Sufficiently,  To Express My Thoughts _Verbatim_. But Now,

As I Have Made Up My Mind,  I Will Endeavour To Make My Letter Clear And

Chapter 25 Pg 159

Concise.

 

"I Have,  As You Now Perhaps Perceive,  Carried On The Norwegian

Correspondence Of Messrs. Barnett Brothers For Several Years. In My

Private Letters To You I Have Disguised My Handwriting,  So As Not To

Betray My Secret. I Wished,  In Fact,  To See First If I Could Make Myself

Useful,  And Am At Length Satisfied I That I Can. I Have Learnt To Adopt

Your Mother'S Homely Maxim--Remember Me Kindly To Her--I Can Work.' In

Your Kind Letters,  For Which Receive My Best Thanks,  I Have Sometimes

Thought That I Could Perceive A Feeling Of Astonishment,  As To How I

Could Be Employing All The Money You Have Sent Me. It Is Placed In Our

Business. I Say Our Business,  Because Messrs. Barnett Brothers Have

Offered Me A Share In Their Paris House. I Have Thus Attained The Object

Of My Ambition In That Direction.

 

"You Once Gave Me Some Advice. You See,  I Attack Each Point Separately,

So As To Prevent Confusion,  To Avoid Wasting Words,  Or Forgetting

Anything Important. But To Return. When You Advised Me To Come Forward

As An Authoress,  I Did Not At That Time Think That Your Idea Was

Reasonable. Since Then I Have,  However,  Thought The Subject Carefully

Over,  And Have Indeed Made Some Small Attempts That Way,  And Now I Beg

To Thank You For The Good Advice You Gave Me. I Have Indeed Much To

Thank You For.

 

"Now That I Am Able To Work,  I No Longer Feel So Apprehensive About The

Future. It Is True,  As You Said Long Ago,  That There Are Many Things

Which A Woman May Have To Write About,  And This Is More Especially True

With Us In Our Own Country. I Am Fortunately In an Independent Position,

_Bonheur Oblige_,  And I Have Courage,  So I Will Make The Attempt. But I

Must First Get Home,  Not Only Because I Am As Homesick As A Child--For I

Know Perfectly Well That When I Have Been At Home For A Short Time,  I

Shall Be Anxious To Start Again On My Travels--But I Feel That If I Am

To Accomplish Anything,  I Must Be Among Those I Wish To Help. I Also

Wish To Be Able To Go Abroad Again,  And Thus Make Existence More

Interesting; But I Must At The Same Time Have A _Pied A Terre_ At Home,

So As To Be Able To Return Whenever I May Desire To Do So. And Now Comes

The Great 'But' Which Is,  In Fact,  The Chief Point In This Letter--And

That,  Mr. Worse,  Is Yourself.

 

"I Do Not Wish To Return Home Before I Know Clearly In What Position We

Stand To Each Other. Of This I Feel Convinced,  That You Have No Ill

Feeling Towards Me On Account Of My Former Behaviour To You. But Still I

Know Nothing Further; And If There Is Nothing More To Know,  I Hope We

May Meet As Good Friends. If There Should Be Anything Further,  Kindly

Let Me Have A Few Lines.

 

"There,  Now! You See How The Matter Lies; Let Us Now Understand Each

Other Plainly,  And I Beg That You Will Be Honourable And Straightforward

Towards Me. On One Thing You Can Count For A Certainty,  Which Is,  That I

Am,  In any Case,

                     Your Very Sincere Friend,

                               Rachel Garman."

 

When Jacob Worse Had Read This Letter,  He Sprang Up,  Seized His Hat And

Umbrella,  And Went Into The Clerk'S Office.

 

Chapter 25 Pg 160

"Has The Hamburg Steamer Started?"

 

"No,  Sir,  But The First Bell Has Just Rung," Was The Answer.

 

"Have You Any Gold?"

 

"Yes; That Is To Say,  Not Very Much," Answered The Cashier.

 

"Let Me Have What You Have Got,  And Send Thomas Over To The Bank For

Some More. A Couple Of Thousand Kroner Or So Will Do."

 

The Boy Ran Off With A Bundle Of Notes And A Little Canvas Bag.

 

"I Am Going Abroad,  Svendsen,  For A Fortnight Or So--I Cannot Say For

Certain. Look,  Here Is My Address. And With That He Snatched The Pen

From Behind Svendsen'S Ear And Wrote Across A Large Sheet Of Paper,  On

Which The Unfortunate Man Had Just Begun A Magnificent Letter:

 

                 "_Pavilion Rohan_,

                     "_Paris_.

 

The Second Bell Was Now Heard On Board The Steamer.

 

"All Right,  Svendsen. Now You Must Manage As Well As You Can; Telegraph

If You Want Anything--My Keys Are In My Desk." When He Reached The Door

He Turned Round And Cried,  "Yes,  I Forgot,  Svendsen; Run Over To My

Mother And Tell Her--Yes,  Just Tell Her That It'S All 'Come Right;'" And

With That Away He Ran.

 

Old Svendsen Stood Perfectly Speechless,  Staring Through The Open Door,

As He Rubbed His Thumb And Forefinger Together,  Which Was A Habit Of His

When Anything Unusually Perplexing Occurred. Every Door Was Open,  A

Chair Upset In The Inner Office,  And Mr. Worse On The Road To Paris With

A Hat And Umbrella,  Thomas After Him In Full Career With The Canvas Bag.

The Cashier Was Sitting With The Coin And Notes Scattered On The Table

In Front Of Him,  Looking As If He Had Been Robbed; And As Old Svendsen'S

Eye Rested On The Ruined Letter,  He Discovered That He Had A Smudge Of

Ink On One Of His Fingers. Now,  It Was Thirty Years Since Old Svendsen

Had Had Any Ink On His Fingers. Mr. Worse Must Have Made A Splutter With

His Pen When He Snatched It So Hurriedly; And As The Old Bookkeeper'S

Eye Wandered From The Smudge Of Ink,  To The Frightful Confusion Which

Reigned In The Office,  And Back Again To The