With One For Whom He Had No Affection, And Despised By Her Whose Love He
Really Longed For.
All This Time The Mist Was Stealing In Light Wreaths Over The Shore; It
Came Gliding Beyond The Line Of The Waves, And On Over The Sand. It
Paused For An Instant At The Man Who Was Thus Lying In despair, Then
Stole On Further, And Finally Settled Behind The Sand-Hills. The Grey
Wall Of Mist Had Now Attained Such A Height That It Obscured The Evening
Sun, So That The Landscape Became All At Once Cold And Grey, Whilst The
Fog Went Scudding Along, Denser And Denser Every Moment.
Delphin Stretched Himself On The Sand, Wearied With His Long Ride And
His Bitter Thoughts. The Long White Breakers Came Curling Ever Nearer
And Nearer, As They Broke On The Beach With Their Subdued And Monotonous
Roar.
Chapter 22 Pg 144
He Could Not But Think How Easy It Would Be To Have Done With The Life
Altogether, Which Now Seemed To Him Of So Little Worth. He Had But To
Roll Himself Down The Sandy Slope, And The Waves Would Take His Body
Into Their Embrace, And, After Rocking Him On Their Bosom, Perhaps Bear
Him Far Away And Leave Him On A Distant Shore. But He Felt Full Well
That He Had Not The Courage; And As He Lay There, Thus Pondering Over
His Past Life, He Fell Into A Reverie, While The Breakers Murmured Their
Monotonous Song, And The Mist, Which Was Borne Up On The Light Evening
Breeze, Breathed Over Him Cold And Chill.
The Landscape Assumed A General Tone Of Grey. The Mist Stole On, Still
More Close And Compact, And The Form Of Him Who Lay By The Waves Became
More And More Indistinct. At Last He Was Gone; The Sea Raised Her Mantle
And Wiped Him Out, While The Fog Drifted Inland Thick As A Wall, And,
Reaching The First Dwellings, Swept Round The Corners Of The Houses, And
Sent Cold Gusts In at The Open Doors And Windows.
But Swifter Than The Mist, Closer And Ever More Penetrating, Swept The
Report Of The Chaplain'S Engagement Through The Town. It Crept In
Through Cracks And Keyholes, Filled Houses From Cellar To Garret, And
Stood So Thick In The Street That It Stopped The Traffic.
"Have You Heard The News? They Are Engaged? Guess! Where? Who? Miss
Garman; I Heard It An Hour Ago! Have You Heard The News? It'S The
Chaplain Who Is Engaged! Well, I Am Surprised! They Might Have Waited
Till After The Funeral. Are You Sure? He Has Been At The Jeweller'S!
Have You Heard The News?"
Thus It Spread, Buzz, Buzz, From House To House; And When At Length The
Weary Town Went To Its Bed, There Was Certainly Not A Soul Who Had Not
Heard Of The Engagement From At Least Five Separate People. It Was A
Wonderful Time, Rich In Important Events.
But Just As One Sometimes Sees A Little Brawling And Muddy Brook Flowing
Into A Clear Stream, And Following Along In Its Course, But Ever Keeping
Its Little Band Of Dirty Brown Water Separate From The Translucent
River, Even So There Followed With The News Of The Great Event, A Little
Whisper Of Uncomfortable Gossip. It Always Accompanied The Main Story,
Cropping Up Everywhere, Whispered, Muttered, Doubted, But Never
Contradicted; And This Little Bit Of Intelligence Was, That Pastor
Martens Wore A Wig. It Was Scarcely Credible, But It Was Undeniable;
Madame Rasmussen Herself Was The Authority.
Chapter 23 Pg 145
Like All Wise Rulers, Who Feel That They Ought To Mark The Epoch Of
Their Arrival At Power With Certain Merciful Actions, Morten Had Given
Permission To Per Karl To Drive The Hearse With The Old Blacks, Which
Were, However, Condemned To Be Shot On The Following Day.
The Old Coachman Had Got Them Into "Funeral Trim," As He Said, And For
Three Days Had Groomed Them Incessantly. The Last Night He Had Passed In
The Stable, So That They Should Not Lie Down And Spoil Their Coats. They
Were Therefore Shining As They Never Shone Before, When, At Eleven
O'Clock On Saturday Morning, They Drew Up With The Hearse At The Door.
There Are Three Kinds Of Hearses, So That One Has The Option Of Driving
To The Churchyard Just As One Travels By Rail--In A First, Second, Or
Third Class Carriage. Unless, Indeed, One Manages To Quit Life In Such
An Abject State Of Poverty, That One Has To Get One'S Self Carried On
Foot By One'S Friends. Consul Garman Drove First Class, In a Carriage
Adorned With Angels' Heads And Silver Trappings. Per Karl Sat Under The
Black Canopy, With Crape Round His Hat, And Looking With Pride And
Sadness On His Old Blacks.
When The Coffin, Which Was Adorned With Flowers And White Drapery, Was
Carried Down From Upstairs, Miss Cordsen Stood At The Foot Of The
Staircase, With The Servants Assembled In a Group Behind Her. The Old
Lady Folded Her Hands On Her Breast, And Bowed Low As They Bore Him
Past; She Then Went Up To Her Room, And Locked The Door.
The Ladies Of The Family Followed In The Close Carriage With Uncle
Richard, So As To Be Present At The Ceremony In The Church. Morten And
Gabriel Were In The Open Carriage. The Whole Staff Of Workmen Belonging
To The Firm, And Many Of The Townspeople Who Were Not Contented With
Following From The Church To The Grave, Joined The Procession On Foot
When The Hearse Set Itself In Motion. The Spring Sunshine Was Reflected
From The Silver Trappings And Angels' Heads, And From The Sleek And
Well-Groomed Horses, Who Were Going On Their Last Drive With A Step Full
Of Pride And Solemnity. It Happened Most Awkwardly That Marianne Had
Also To Be Buried That Day. Martin Had Tried His Best To Prevent The
_Contretemps_, But The Answer Which He Had Received From The Authorities
Was, That It Was Impossible To Make An Exception On His Account; That
The Present Arrangement Would Be Most Convenient For All Parties, And
Particularly So, Because It Would Save The Clergyman A Double Journey To
The Cemetery; Besides, There Would Be Only The Simple Funeral Service,
And No Address Would Be Given.
Very Well, Then; Since There Would Be No Address The Funeral Would Take
Place On Saturday, Between Twelve And Two.
Outside Begmand'S Cottage A Group Of Young Seafaring Men
