Cilia

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Title:     Cilia
Author: Anthon B. E. Nilsen [More Titles by Nilsen]

"The one who eats most porridge, gets most meat," said Cilia Braaten, ladling out a large second helping for Abrahamsen, the mate, who innocently accepted.

"No more for me, thanks," said Soren Braaten. He knew his wife's economical trick of getting her guests to eat so much of the first course that they had little cargo space left for the second.

Cilia Braaten was a woman who could hold her own, and was regarded as one of the cleverest shipowners on the fjord, closing charters herself, with or without a broker.

Cecilia was her proper name, but she was invariably called Cilia for short.

Soren Braaten, her husband, was hardly ever referred to at all, his wife having charge of everything that mattered, including the chartering of the two vessels Birkebeineren and Apollo--and Heaven help Soren if he failed to obey orders and sail as instructed by Madam Cilia.

Soren was a kindly and genial soul, who would not hurt a fly as long as he was left to sail his Birkebeineren in peace. True, he would grumble once in a while, when his wife seemed more than usually unreasonable, and throw out hints that he knew what he was about, and could manage things by himself.

"Manage, indeed. A nice sort of managing it would be! What about that time when you fixed Birkebeineren for a cargo of coals to the Limfjord, where there's only ten foot of water, and she draws nineteen? If I hadn't come and got you out of it, you'd have been stranded there now." And Cilia threw a glance of indignant superiority at Soren. The story of that Limfjord charter was her trump card, and never failed to quell Soren's faint attempts at retort.

Altogether, Cilia was unquestionably ruler of the roost, and managed things as she pleased, not only as regards Soren and the two ships, but also Malvina, the only daughter, who, like the rest, obeyed her without demur.

Soren had no reason to regret having given the administration of the household and the business into her care; for their fortunes throve steadily, and Cilia was, as mentioned, one of the smartest shipowners in the fjord. She invariably managed to get hold of the best freights going; the shipbrokers at Drammen seemed by tacit consent to give her the first refusal of anything good.

All, then, seemed well as could be wished with the family as a whole, and one would have thought Cilia herself must be content with things as they were. This, however, was by no means the case; Cilia had troubles enough, though, as so often happens, they were largely of her own making.

Soren's complete lack of tender feeling was one of the things that often worried her. It was particularly noticeable in his letters. He would write, for instance, in this style:

"MADAM CILIA BRAATEN,--Arrived here in London fourteen days out from the Sound. All well, and now discharging cargo. Have drawn £120 from the agents here, which please find enclosed. I await instructions as to further movements, and beg to remain--Yours very truly,

"S. BRAATEN."

Cilia flung the letter in a drawer and raged. Was this love? The simpleton--he should have been left to manage things for himself--and where would he have been then? This was all the thanks one got for all the toil and trouble. Why couldn't he write letters like Mrs. Pedersen got from her husband, who was skipper of the Vestalinde, commencing "My darling wife," and ending up with "Ever your loving--" That was something like affection! A very different thing from Soren's "Yours very truly." Mrs. Cilia was bursting with indignation.

She pondered the matter for some time, seeking to find a way of making Soren a little more demonstrative. And next time she wrote, she put it to him delicately, as follows:

"MY DEAREST HUSBAND,--I was very glad to receive your letter with the £120, but sorry you say nothing about how you are yourself. I often think affectionately of you, but there is a coolness about your letters which makes me quite unhappy to think of. You know I love you, and you know, too, how sorry I am to have to send you up into the Baltic so late in the year, but the freight was so good that I could not refuse it. Put on warm things, and see you have plenty of good food on board, and if you make a good voyage of it this time I hope to have another nice remittance from you before Christmas. And do let us agree for the future to sign our letters--'Ever your loving'

"CILIA BRAATEN."

The result of this appeal to Soren's tender feelings was not long delayed. It happened that Gudmunsen, skipper of the Apollo, while in Christiania with a cargo of coal, went on the spree there to such an all-obliterating extent that Mrs. Cilia received no accounts, and no freight money. She therefore wrote to Soren, who was in London, asking him to cable by return what was to be done with Gudmunsen. The reply came back as follows:

"Chuck him out.--Ever your loving

"SOREN BRAATEN."

And thenceforward his letters and telegrams were invariably signed "Ever your loving."

When Soren came home late that autumn, Cilia thought he might fairly have a year ashore, as they had laid by a good deal, and could afford a rest. Soren grumbled a little, and suggested that it would be desperately dull hanging about on shore all the summer, but Cilia undertook to find him entertainment enough. "We've all that bit of ground down there to plant potatoes, then the house wants painting, and a new garden fence--oh yes, and we ought really to have another well dug round at the back, and----"

Soren had visions of Cilia standing over him and ordering him about at these various tasks, while he toiled in the sweat of his brow. Oh, a nice sort of rest it would be! No, give him his old place on board, where he could do as he pleased.

There was no help for it, however. Abrahamsen, the mate, was put in charge of Birkebeineren that summer, and Soren had to stay at home.

Soren Braaten had never had any social position to speak of in Strandvik, and indeed he had no wish for anything of the sort. His comrades at the Seamen's Union were good enough company for him. It was different with Cilia, however; as their means increased, she began to feel more and more aggrieved at never being asked to parties at Holm Berg's or Prois's, and as for the Magistrate's folk, they never so much as gave her a glance when she passed them in the street. And only the other day she had met that impertinent upstart, Lawyer Nickelsen; if he hadn't dared to address her simply as "Celia!" Oh, but she would show them! And she went over her plan--it was to be carried out this summer, while Soren was at home. Soren was to be renamed, and appear henceforward as Soren Braathen--with an "h," Shipowner. Malvina was to be a lady, and, if possible, married off to some young man of standing. Then, surely, the family would be able to take the rank and position in society to which their comfortable means entitled them.

While Cilia was occupied with these reflections in the kitchen--it was the day Birkebeineren was to sail--Abrahamsen and Malvina were sitting in the summer-house in an attitude eloquent of itself. To be precise, they were holding each other's hands.

"It's none so easy for me, Malvina," the mate was saying, "as a common man, to ask your father and mother straight out--and there's no such desperate hurry as I can see till after this voyage."

With him Malvina agreed, and the loving couple separated, not without mutual assurances of undying faith and affection for better or worse, whatever obstacles might be placed in their way.

Meantime, Soren Braaten had stolen down to the cellar, where he had a carefully hoarded stock of English bottled stout, with which he was wont to refresh himself at odd moments. Seated on a barrel, he was enjoying the blessing of life and liquor in deep draughts, without a care in the world. True, he had seen through the skylight Malvina and the mate in what might be construed as a compromising position, but trusting in this as in all else to Cilia's management, he took it for granted that she was a party to the affair.

Birkebeineren sailed, and Abrahamsen with her, leaving Soren at home to his fate. The potato-planting was shelved for the time being, as were the various other little jobs Cilia had mentioned; her one idea now was that he should appear as a gentleman of leisure, which Soren was unfeignedly content to do. In order, however, that he should not find the life too monotonous, she found him an occupation which to her idea was not incompatible with the dignity of a shipowner he was to look after Fagerlin. Fagerlin was the big brindled cow, and at present, being summertime, was allowed to take the air in the garden. Soren was accordingly charged to see that Fagerlin behaved herself, and did not eat up the carrots or the tiger lilies. Soren found the work comparable to that of the local customs officer, consisting as it did for the most part in sitting on a bench and smoking, with back numbers of the Shipping Gazette to while away the time.

Cilia, however, was still constantly occupied in finding further means whereby the family might attain that position of importance and consideration in local society which, she was forced to admit, was lacking at present.

In this she found an unexpected ally in the person of Lieutenant Heidt, the magistrate's son, an old acquaintance from the days when Cilia had been parlourmaid at the house. True, he had been but a little boy at the time, but they had never quite lost sight of each other, and had grown most intimate, especially of late, since Cilia had taken to lending him money, in secret.

Lt. Heidt was of opinion that Soren ought to go off to some health resort; it was customary among people of the better class, he declared, to suffer from gout, or insomnia, or some such fashionable ailment, necessitating a few weeks' cure at one of the recognised establishments every summer. "And they put it in the papers, you know, who's there; it would look quite nice, say, in the Morning News, to see Shipowner Braathen, of Strandvik, was recuperating at So-and-so."

Cilia found the suggestion excellent, and began hinting to Soren that he was suffering from sleeplessness and gout. Soren was astounded, and indeed was disposed to regard the insinuation of sleeplessness as a piece of sarcasm, in view of the fact that he regularly took a couple of hours' nap each day irrespective of his customary ten hours at night. His protests, however, were in vain; he must go to Sandefjord, whether he liked it or not.

A brand new trunk with a brass plate, inscribed with the name and title of "Shipowner S. Braathen, Strandvik," was procured for the occasion, and Soren was escorted in full procession down to the boat, and packed off to Sandefjord. Before leaving, he had been given careful instructions by his better half as to behaving in a manner suited to his station, and also furnished with a well-lined pocket-book. This last was so unlike Cilia that Soren wondered what on earth had come to her: open-handedness in money matters had never been a failing of hers--far from it.

Lt. Heidt and Cilia had further discussed the question as to whether Malvina ought not to be sent to some pension abroad, or at least to stay with a clergyman's family, for instance, somewhere in the country. This plan, however, was upset by Malvina's opposition. She flatly refused to do anything of the sort; and as the girl had inherited a good half at least of her mother's obstinacy, Cilia realised that it was hopeless to persist.

During Soren's absence, Lt. Heidt suggested that it would be well to use the opportunity and refurnish the house completely, for, as he said, it would never do for people in such a position as the Braathens to have a "parlour" suite consisting of four birchwood chairs without springs and that horrible plaster-of-Paris angel that had knelt for the past twenty years on the embroidery-fringed bracket--it was enough to frighten decent people out of the house! Cilia entirely agreed, and only wondered how it was she herself had never perceived it before; this, of course, was the reason they had had no suitable society. But she would change all that. Malvina was highly indignant when she heard of the proposed resolution. The parlour was quite nice as it was, to her mind, and as for the angel, her father had given it to her when she was a child, and it did not harm anyone; on the contrary, she loved her angel, and would take care it came to no hurt.

Lt. Heidt very kindly offered to go in to Christiania with Mrs. Cilia and help her choose the furniture; would indeed be delighted to assist in any way with the general rearrangement of the Braathen's ménage. Cilia gratefully accepted, and the pair went off accordingly to the capital, duly furnished with the requisite funds, which Cilia had drawn from the bank for the occasion. On the way, she begged her companion to take charge of the money and act as treasurer; she had heard that pickpockets devoted their attention more especially to ladies.

On arrival, Heidt suggested dining at a first-class restaurant which he himself frequented, and meeting on the way there two young gentlemen of his acquaintance, he introduced them to Mrs. Braathen, and invited them without further ceremony to join the party. They were frank, easy-mannered young fellows, and Cilia took a fancy to them, at once recognising them as belonging to "the quality."

And such a dinner they had! Oysters and champagne to start with, game of some sort, and claret--it was a banquet to eclipse even the betrothal feast at Prois's; to which last, it is true, she had not been invited--but he should repent it, the supercilious old sweep!

Heidt's friends, too, proved most entertaining company, especially the one who, it appeared, was a poet; he had a store of anecdotes to make one split one's sides with laughing, and Heidt himself was in high spirits. He drank with her, and said, "Your health, mother-in-law," and the others joined in with congratulations. Cilia could not help laughing, though she was inclined to consider it rather too much of a joke. Still, it was all done in such a jovial, irresistible fashion that she let it pass.

After the coffee, the whole party set out to make purchases. First, glassware. Heidt thought it was a good idea to begin with glasses after dinner; one was more in the mood for it, he declared. An elegant service of cut-glass, with the monogram "S. & C. B." was ordered. Cilia hesitated a little at the delicate, slender-stemmed wine-glasses, which she declared would "go to smithereens" in a "twinkling" at the first washing-up, but was assured that this was the essence of good taste in such matters, and finally gave in.

Then came the furniture for the "salon" as Heidt called it. But when Cilia found herself tentatively seated on a sofa with a hard, straight back reaching half-way up the wall, she could not help thinking that the old one at home was really more comfortable; a thing like this seemed made to sit upright in, and as for lying down----! The others, however, declared it elegant and "stylish," with which she felt she must agree, and the sofa was accordingly noted. Various so-called "easy-chairs," which to Cilia's mind were far from easy, were then added. A round settee with a pillar rising from the centre was to crown the whole. Cilia had never seen such an arrangement before, and was rather inclined to leave it out. But the dealer explained, "You place the article in the centre of the apartment, under a chandelier. A palm is set on the central pillar--and there you are!"

"Wouldn't a nice geranium do instead?" asked Cilia confidentially.

"Well--ah--oh, certainly, yes," said the man, and Cilia agreed.

"Then there are works of art," said Heidt. "No truly cultured home can be without them." And he invited Cilia to contemplate a life-size terra-cotta Cupid. It was terribly expensive, and she did not really approve of "stark-naked boys" as a decorative motif, but Heidt and his friends agreed that it was a "triumph of plastic beauty," and a work of art such as no one in Strandvik had ever seen, far less possessed. And Cilia took the Cupid with the rest.

"Now we're all complete," said Heidt, "and I'll answer for it, a more recherché little interior than Shipowner Braathen's it will be hard to find." And Cilia saw in her mind's eye Lawyer Nickelsen and the Magistrate himself abashed and humbled before all this magnificence.

As for Prois and Holm Berg--poor things, they had never dreamt of anything like it.

When they got home, Cilia could not help feeling that it had been rather a costly outing--but what matter? The vessels were earning good money.

There was a letter from Soren, giving his impressions of Sandefjord.

"MRS. CILIA BRAATHEN, MY DEAR WIFE,--I write this to let you know I have now had fourteen sulphur baths, kinder being thumped and hammered every morning from nine to ten, then breakfast, and about time too, seeing I have to drink five glasses of sulphur water and one of salts on an empty stomach.

"In accordance with your instructions, I have duly informed the doctor here that I am in need of insomnia, which he assures me will improve with continued treatment.

"There are any amount of people here on the same business, Danes and Swedes too, and all seem to be enjoying it like anything, which is more than I can understand. There's a band plays here all day, but the days seem to go very slowly all the same. Take care of yourself till I come back.--Ever your loving

"S. BRAATHEN."

Malvina, too, had a letter from her father:

"MY DEAR DAUGHTER,--Your letter was a great comfort to me in this place, which the same I would liken unto Sodom and Gomorrah, not only for the sulphur and brimstone but other things beside.

"It was no surprise to me when you say you are in love with Abrahamsen, seeing I was watching you holding hands with him that day in the summer-house.

"I give you my blessing and welcome, which please find herewith. He's not much of an expert, as you might say, in navigation, looking all ways round for the sun, but with God's help I dare say you'll be able to manage him. And as for your mother, you'll just have to square it with her the best you can, which is more than I ever could myself.

"I am getting on famously here all round, all except the insomnia, which I haven't been able to manage up to now. I still get my night's rest and my afternoon nap, for all their nasty waters inside and out. But don't tell your mother I said so, but let her think I'm getting on that way.

"Don't forget to write and let me know how she is and all that's doing.--Yours respectfully,

"S. BRAATHEN.

"P.S.--What you say about Lieutenant Heidt has written you a love-letter, don't worry about that, but sufficient unto the day and so on. You can tell him you could never love anybody that hadn't got his mate's certificate, which I'm pretty sure he hasn't nor ever likely to be."

Cilia had a desperately busy time unpacking all the things from Christiania, but, thanks to Lt. Heidt, who was always at hand ready to help, the work was soon got over.

The house was changed beyond all recognition. Now let the Prois's and Lawyer Nickelsen come, and see what they'd say! Lt. Heidt came round every day now, and was so attentive to Malvina that Cilia felt all but sure of him already for a son-in-law, and reproved her daughter severely for being so "stand-offish" with him. But Malvina, remembering who was primarily responsible for the deposition of her plaster angel, and the substitution of a stark-naked boy, found it impossible to regard the culprit with anything but marked disfavour.

Never was Cupid looked upon so sourly by the fairer sex. Cilia, it is true, had gradually brought herself to look him straight in the face when she entered the room, instead of turning aside, but Malvina still flushed and averted her eyes. The angel at least was decent; no one need be ashamed of that!

At last everything was in order, and Cilia was able to look round proudly on an establishment fitted for persons of "quality." Hitherto it had always been her custom to go bareheaded within doors; now, however, she adopted a dainty white cap with a cluster of dark red auriculas on top, as befitted a lady of means and position.

When Soren came home, the first thing she did was to usher him into the drawing-room with a triumphant gesture. There! what did he think of that?

Soren stood for a moment dumbfounded, and when at last Cilia invited him to sit down, he took out his handkerchief, spread it out carefully on the settee, and seated himself gingerly, glancing up now and again at the geranium, as if fearing it might fall on his head.

At the first opportunity he went off with Malvina to the wash-house, where the two had a long confabulation, the end of which was a solemn declaration on the part of Soren to the effect that his spouse must be "a trifle wrong in the upper works." And he swore that she had far more need of the Sandefjord waters than he had ever had.

Cilia, of course, must give a party to show off the establishment in its new finery. Invitations were sent out on printed cards a week beforehand, the list including Heidts, Prois's and Lawyer Nickelsen. Cilia had really half a mind to "leave out all that haughty lot," but if she did, where would the leaders of society be at all?

Soren was ordered to get himself a tail coat for the occasion. It was his duty as host, Cilia said. But for the first time in his life Soren refused to obey, and that so emphatically that his wife was startled. "If you and all the rest of them can't have me in my Sunday coat as it is, why, well and good--I'll go out fishing that day and you can have it all to yourselves." With which mutinous declaration Soren went out into the kitchen and confided to Malvina that he'd "had about enough of all this nonsense." Malvina cordially agreed, and did her best to keep him in that frame of mind.

Cilia pondered over the matter for some time; she had never before known Soren to disregard her injunctions in that fashion. But let him wait; she'd give him "Sunday coat" with a vengeance once the party was well over.

The first thing Abrahamsen learned when he returned was news of the wonderful changes Cilia had made in the house. "Fitted up like a palace," said old Holm Berg. Then, too, of course, there were plenty of people to tell him of Malvina's engagement to Lt. Heidt, and how the latter had been round at the house "every blessed day all through the summer." Consequently, it was with heavy heart and ill-forebodings that the mate set out to call. Fortunately, however, he found Malvina alone in the front room, cleaning windows, and was able to arrange a meeting with her in the wash-house as soon as he had been in to deliver his report to Cilia. This was soon effected, Cilia being so occupied with preparations for the party that she even forgot to ask how much of the freight money was left.

Abrahamsen went down then to the wash-house, where doubts and fears were soon disposed of, despite the fact that the lovers' affectionate tête-à-tête was interrupted by a violent rattling in the tub, where Soren kept his bottled beer--the stout, alas, was gone long since.

The wash-house cellar was, as Soren put it, his "free port and patent breakwater" where he could anchor in safety whenever the waves of domestic strife ran over high.

A regular triple-alliance was now concluded between Soren, Abrahamsen and Malvina to meet the treacherous plottings of the two remaining powers: Cilia and Lt. Heidt. The Congress of the wash-house agreed to adopt and maintain an attitude of armed and watchful neutrality for the present, only proceeding to open hostilities in case of need, when concerted action would be taken according as circumstances might require.

While this conference was taking place, Lt. Heidt, who had arrived meantime, was closeted with Cilia in long and earnest conversation, in the course of which he declared that his intentions towards Malvina were entirely honourable, and that it was his dearest wish to become a son-in-law of the house.

The Lieutenant was all for an immediate decision, the engagement then to be publicly declared on the following day at the party. Cilia, however, foresaw difficulties in effecting this: it would be necessary to prepare Malvina gradually for the honour and happiness in store for her. Finally, it was agreed that Cilia should use her utmost efforts, and tackle Malvina that same evening, get a satisfactory answer out of her if possible, and then fire off the news at dinner next day. The Lieutenant on his part was to hold himself in readiness for immediate action at the opportune moment. The pair then separated, with assurances of mutual esteem and affection.

Cilia was so overwhelmed that she was obliged to remain a full half-hour alone in the splendours of the newly furnished salon, meditating upon the wonderful good fortune that was about to fall upon the house. A real lieutenant, and the magistrate's son to boot--an alliance with the leading family in the town! Thus was the name of Braathen to be lifted from the potato-patch of vulgar insignificance to the gardens of rank and "quality."

Abrahamsen, stealing out by by the back way, was just in time to perceive Lt. Heidt taking leave of Cilia, and noting the cordiality between the two, he realised that there was rough weather ahead before he could hope to lay alongside his dainty prize. He confided as much to his intimate friend, Thor Smith, the magistrate's clerk. The latter had an ancient grudge against young Heidt, who had at one time made some attempt at cutting him out with Tulla Prois, and that in the basest manner, which Smith had never forgiven him.

But he should pay for it--Smith would see to that!

When Abrahamsen had set forth the position in detail, Smith pressed his hand, and swore to aid him by all means in his power. Here at last was a chance of getting even with his rival.

That same evening Smith went round for a chat with Old Nick, as he often did. On reaching the house, however, the housekeeper informed him that Nickelsen was engaged in the office--Skipper Braaten was in there with him.

Smith pricked up his ears at this, and at once concluded that the consultation must have something to do with the matrimonial plans afoot in the skipper's household.

He waited, therefore, and a little while later Nickelsen entered, looking very thoughtful. His air, however, changed to one of cautious reserve when Smith greeted him with:

"Well, have you been through the Code of Matrimonial Law with Soren Braaten?"

"What makes you think so?" said Nickelsen.

"My dear old Nick, don't try that on with me. I've just heard about it from my particular friend Abrahamsen. And I don't mind telling you I'm out to put the brave Lieutenant's nose out of joint if I can."

"H'm--well, it's right enough. And as for the Lieutenant, why, 'twould be easy enough. But Cilia's a different matter, now she's got her head puffed up with all this 'fashionable' nonsense. Old Soren has fairly got his blood up this time though; he wanted her declared unfit to act, and a legal guardian appointed--what do you say to that?"

"Look here, Nickelsen, what if you and I put our heads together and fixed it up ourselves for Malvina and Abrahamsen?"

"Good Lord above us, what are you thinking of? Do you want me to play postillon d'amour for all the loving couples in the town?"

"Well, it's a noble mission, you know, really. Just think how Tulla and I look up to you with--er--with affection and esteem--since that banquet affair."

"You can think yourself lucky it went off as well as it did," said Old Nick.

"Oh--this'll come off all right too, you'll see. Come along, let's set to work and draw up a plan of campaign. We're getting quite old hands at the game."

Old Nick was not without some scruples, but after further pressure he at last consented to give his support as far as he could.

As a result of mature deliberation the following scheme was drawn up, to be submitted to Soren Braaten and Abrahamsen for consideration:

1. Soren to arrange that Thor Smith and Abrahamsen be among the guests invited to the party.

2. Soren to say a few words of welcome to the guests at table, whereupon Lawyer Nickelsen would make a "flowing and eloquent" speech proposing the host and hostess.

3. Immediately after this the grand scene, wherein Soren Braaten, rising again, delivers a speech, prepared beforehand by Nickelsen and Smith, announcing Malvina's engagement to Abrahamsen.

This surprise attack, the conspirators reckoned, could not fail to throw the enemy's forces into confusion.

Both, however, knowing Cilia's temper, her energy and force of character, were agreed that the plan had its weak points. She might, for instance, prefer to make a scene rather than surrender unconditionally. Nevertheless, both Smith and Old Nick thought she would probably give way; and having regard to the sound strategic principle that a purely defensive position is generally untenable, they thought best to urge the Triple Alliance to take the offensive at the earliest opportunity.

No sooner said than done. Soren and Abrahamsen were sent for, and lost no time in making their appearance; both had a feeling that great events were in the air.

Meantime, the enemy was not inactive. The Lieutenant, certain of victory, now that he had secured so powerful an ally as Cilia, had already confided his intentions to his father. The magistrate, in his own mind, could not help thinking that a daughter of his former parlourmaid was hardly a match for his son, but on the other hand it might make a man of him. And the Braatens were said to be quite wealthy people. Malvina was the only child, so that from that point of view, no objection could be raised. Finally, he declared himself willing to give his consent, but, learning that the engagement was to be formally announced at dinner on the following day, he became serious, and went down quietly to his office to prepare a speech suited to the occasion. His consent to the marriage was one thing, but he was resolved that it should not lead to overmuch intimacy between the two families. And this he was anxious to point out, with all possible delicacy, of course, but definitely enough to permit of no misunderstanding.

The party assembled at Old Nick's, including Thor Smith, Abrahamsen and Soren Braaten, were unanimous in declaring the proposed scheme admirable. The only hesitation was on the part of Soren, who, being himself cast for the leading part, naturally felt the risk. The others, however, insisted that no one else could do it, and he therefore agreed to sacrifice himself in a forlorn hope for the general good.

On being handed the speech, carefully written out by Old Nick himself, Soren scratched his head and looked thoroughly miserable. He had never made a speech in his life, and had no sort of confidence in his declamatory powers. There was no help for it, however, and with a sigh he thrust the paper into his waistcoat pocket.

Before leaving he was instructed to make known the details of the plan to Malvina, and charge her to be as amiable as possible to Heidt, in order to avoid any suspicion in the minds of the others as to the conspiracy afoot.

On reaching home, he sought out Malvina and explained the situation, whereafter the two in concert managed to get Cilia to invite Thor Smith and Abrahamsen at the eleventh hour; Cilia herself, as far as could be seen, had no suspicion of any covert motive underlying the request.

Nearly all that night Soren sat up in his bedroom brooding over the speech. "Gentlemen and--er--h'm--I should say ladies and gentlemen--er--I rise to this--I rise on this occasion..." etc. Soren toiled at the speech, sweating properly, and cursing at intervals, till nearly morning. And when at last he fell asleep, it was only to dream that Old Nick stood over him, tweaking his nose with the fire-tongs, while he strove in vain to get beyond the opening sentence of his oration.

He awoke, however, in excellent spirits, and ceased to worry about the speech at all, arguing to himself that it would come off all right once he got going. He ran up the flag with his own hands, and meeting Cilia in the kitchen as he came in, he chucked her under the chin with a cheerful: "Well, old lady, feeling fit?" Whereat Cilia was considerably taken aback, being all unused to such attentions.

There was great excitement in the town as to how the much-talked-of party would go off, and, long before the appointed hour, the garden fence was lined outside by the youth of the neighbourhood, awaiting the arrival of the guests.

"There's Holm Berg, boys, stovepipe and all--and here's the Lieutenant with his pig-sticker--and look at Old Nick in his white gloves, and walking like he was on stilts--hurraa--a--a!"

The house was brilliantly illuminated and looked very festive indeed; so overwhelming was the display that most of the natives stole away into odd corners where they could see as much as possible without being seen. Lt. Heidt was thoroughly at home, and helped to look after the guests, though this, indeed, was superfluous, Soren himself exhibiting so much sangfroid and confidence of manner that he might have been on board his own vessel and in sole command. He shook hands with each as they arrived, and bade them welcome with smiling self-possession. Cilia hardly knew him in this new guise as master of the house, and a shiver of excitement thrilled her as she thought of the developments in store. She had, indeed, sufficient reason for anxiety, inasmuch as she had had a serious talk with Malvina just before the guests arrived, endeavouring to extract from her a promise to give a favourable answer to Lt. Heidt. But there was no getting anything definite out of Malvina; she demanded time to think it over.

The first slight stiffness among the guests soon disappeared, and, by the time dinner was served, most of them felt quite sufficiently at home to do full justice to an excellent repast.

There were to be no speeches until dessert, and now the fateful moment was near.

Malvina was in a corner with Lt. Heidt, the latter so tender and smiling that old Mrs. Berg nudged the parson's wife and whispered, "Look, I'm sure he's proposing now!" The lady addressed, however, was somewhat deaf, and looked up with an inquiring "Eh?" Mrs. Berg did not venture to repeat the observation out loud, and substituted a remark about "the jelly delicious, don't you think?"

Malvina turned pale and red alternately with emotion; there was no getting out of the corner, for Heidt barred the way. Now and again she cast a despairing glance at the Cupid, as if asking aid; but no, the figure only stared back with a silly smile--ridiculous creature!

Abrahamsen, in the passage adjoining, was watching the pair with ill-repressed impatience. The sight of the young lieutenant bending close and whispering confidentially to Malvina made him tingle, and he clenched his fists. Abrahamsen was an ill man to jest with, and, as Soren was wont to say, he had a pair of fists as heavy as the flippers of a full-grown seal.

Coolest of all the conspirators was Old Nick, who walked about, smiling and content, enjoying his own observation of the entire menagerie, as he called it. Towards Cilia he was deference itself, and won her heart completely by addressing her as "Mrs. Braathen."

At last Soren tapped his glass; all eyes were at once turned towards him. He started off simply and easily; he had just one thing to say and that was, he thanked them all for their presence there this evening, and was very glad to see them under his humble roof. Your health! Cilia was quite proud of her husband for once, and not a little surprised; it was not a bit like Soren. Where on earth had he picked it up? She herself had previously asked Lt. Heidt, as a friend of the family, to say a few words of welcome, but Soren had managed it excellently already. Well, so much the better; it would show Lt. Heidt that even he was not indispensable.

Old Nick then rose, and proposed "our host and hostess" in a speech so fluent and cordial that even the parson's wife, who had scarcely heard a word of it, declared it was "perfectly charming."

All drank with Cilia, who curtsyed and nodded and smiled, and nodded again, until her head almost fell off; never in her dreams had she imagined such an exalted moment.

The regulation speeches were now over, and nothing more was expected beyond a few words from the parson, when, to Cilia's astonishment and the surprise of the guests, Soren again stepped forward and raised his glass.

Cilia's first thought was that her husband had taken a drop too much, but his calm, easy manner disposed of that idea in a moment. She wondered what on earth was going to happen, and for the first time in her life the foundations of her despotic power seemed shaken.

There was a tense silence among the guests; what could he have to say? Old Nick stood beside him, chatting easily with Malvina as if nothing were amiss. Thor Smith was out in the passage with Abrahamsen. Justice Heidt, who had been waiting all the evening for the "declaration," drew a little nearer, in the belief that it was coming.

Soren drank off his own glass of sherry, and having reinforced it with Old Nick's and the parson's, which stood nearest on the table, he gave vent to a long sigh, or grunt, and commenced as follows:

"Ladies and Gentlemen: as mentioned, there's a thing we call a union, which means, well--a sort of union, you know" (loud applause from some of the younger men, who thought Soren was referring to the Union of Norway and Sweden), "and you can't have any sort of union without--h'm--respect and--h'm--affection on both sides." (Here the speaker directed a lowering glance at Lt. Heidt, who was moving towards the table.)

"There was a whole lot more I was supposed to say about this, but I've forgotten the rest. And, anyhow, it's a bit of a large order to expect an old skipper like me to rattle out all that stuff about garlands of roses and bonds of something--or--other." Old Nick gave a despairing glance at Thor Smith, who shook his head sadly. "Well, anyhow, it's as well to take the bull by the horns, so here you are. Abrahamsen, you've had charge of the old Birkebeineren two voyages this year, and I hereby make no bones about giving you my girl Malvina, to sail her without deviation or any delay, as the apple of my heart, across the ocean of life, with all due care and seamanship, as set forth in the bills of lading. And seeing as that same ocean's given to foul weather and suchlike perils, dangers and accidents of the sea or other waters, you'll need to keep a sharp look-out and navigate according. And, well, the Lord be with you. Amen."

Cilia, who was nervous and unsettled enough beforehand, now lost her head completely, and as the guests crowded round to offer their congratulations, she sank into a chair holding a handkerchief to her eyes. And when Malvina came up to embrace her, she broke down completely.

Lt. Heidt turned sharply about in military fashion, and strode magnificently out into the hall. On the way he encountered Old Nick, who was rude enough to smile at him, and say, "Rather neat that, don't you think?"

Justice Heidt retired quietly, inwardly congratulating himself with the thought that it was just as well he had escaped closer connection with so plebeian a family!

When the guests had left, Soren sat down beside his wife and took her hand, endeavouring to comfort her as well as he could. Cilia still wept, however; as if all the tears she might have shed in her life, but never had, were bursting forth at once. So copious indeed was the flow, that Soren privately reckoned out it would have sufficed to water half the carrot patch at least.

It was with strange thoughts that Cilia retired to rest. She was beginning to realise that she had been dethroned; her power within-doors and abroad was gone for ever; she had made a fool of herself with a vengeance. It was a bitter thing to feel. She went over in her mind the events of the summer: Soren's journey to Sandefjord, her own expedition to Christiania with Lt. Heidt, the party, and the new furniture--how could she ever have been so foolish, so insane!

Towards morning she grew calmer; she had decided what to do, and was herself again.

She rose before the others were stirring, and lit a big fire in the kitchen. Her sharp features showed firm and decided as she stood before the stove, stiffly upright, one hand fiercely clenching a crumpled roll of something white. This she presently threw into the flames with a deep sigh--but a sigh of relief, as if in casting off a burden. It was her dainty indoor cap, with the auriculas, that was sacrificed; the thing hissed and spluttered, vanishing at last in sooty fragments up the chimney.

When Soren and Malvina came down, they found her on all fours in the parlour, hard at work packing up carpets and curtains, knick-knacks and chandeliers. They stood watching her for a while, but Cilia sharply ordered them to help--and willingly they did! Not a word was exchanged between the three; they simply went on packing and packing, closing up the cases and packing more, till they were ready to be carried out into the yard.

In the course of the morning Abrahamsen turned up, and lent a hand with the packing-cases. It was almost as if it were a question of getting some evil influence out of the house as quickly as possible. All four worked together with perfect understanding, and not a word was said either of the engagement or of the party.

"What are we to do with that fellow there?" said Abrahamsen, pointing to the Cupid.

Soren scratched his chin thoughtfully for a while, and, as a result of his cogitations, suggested "making a fountain." He had seen dozens of suchlike figures in the course of his travels. You set them up in gardens, with a hole bored through and a tube let in. Why not stick it up on the pump outside; it would look fine then! But Malvina insisted on getting rid of the thing altogether; it had caused mischief enough as it was. Thus Abrahamsen had an inspiration. "Let's make Lawyer Nickelsen a present of it; he's got a couple of things much the same to look at. I dare say he'd be glad to have one more." The proposal was received with acclamation, Cilia herself offering no objection, but declaring they might do what they pleased with the thing.

Abrahamsen accordingly took the unfortunate Cupid, stuffed it into a sack, and marched off with it. Nickelsen was not a little surprised to receive a visit from the mischievous god, but on learning what was taking place in its former home, he consented to shelter the poor outcast. He also shook hands with Abrahamsen, and said:

"My dear Abrahamsen, I congratulate you--and I must say Cilia is wiser than I thought. It's not many people would have the sense and character to repair an error so resolutely as she has done."

There was general astonishment in Strandvik when Cilia's elegant new furniture was seen being loaded on board a coasting-vessel down at the quay; still further wonder when it transpired that the entire consignment was destined for Christiania, to be sold by auction there.

Cilia went aboard calmly and quietly, paying no heed to gossip or impertinent questions. And indeed there were few who ventured to question her at all, for her manner was severe enough to keep even the most inquisitive at arm's length. As soon as the vessel had left, she had all the old furniture put back in its place. Malvina brought out her plaster angel, wiped it carefully, and set it up on the same old bracket again.

It was surprising how comfortable everything seemed at home now. Soren was so delighted he went about rubbing his hands, and even Cilia herself seemed gentler and more tractable than before. So much so, indeed, that Soren decided to give up his quarters in the wash-house, and drank his bottled beer on a settle in the kitchen, as if it were the most natural thing in the world; and Cilia made no protest, but set out glass and tray for him herself! Soren felt he was the happiest man in the world, and it was not many weeks before all was back in the old routine, Cilia devoting herself in earnest to the business of shipowning and chartering. Abrahamsen was transferred to the Apollo, and Soren went on board his old friend Birkebeineren, a skipper once more.

One thing Cilia found more astonishing than all else, and that was that both Lawyer Nickelsen and old Prois himself took to calling at the house now and then; nay, more--she and Malvina were actually asked to tea at the Prois's. Cilia was finding out that there were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt of in her philosophy.

Passing by Cilia's well-kept garden in the spring, one might see a number of wine-glasses, minus the stems, but engraved with the monogram "S. & C. B.," placed protectingly over tender seedling or cuttings planted out in the round or oblong borders--"all that's left of the days when mother went wrong in the upper works," said Soren Braaten.

[The end]
Anthon B. E. Nilsen's short story: Cilia

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