Ragna. Anna Miller Costantini
Aunt Gitta?" asked Ragna, lifting her head in surprise, "I had not thought of doing anything!"
"Then your father has not told you?"
"He has told me nothing—what is there to tell?"
"You have been away for two years, and I suppose no one wished to worry you, but the fact is," Aunt Gitta lowered her voice as if about to reveal some terrible secret—and really, to her practical mind anything connected with money-loss was terrible—"the fact is that your father has lost money in several ways and the estate is mortgaged!"
Ragna gazed at her with wide eyes; this explained then, her father's anxious look, the small changes in the way of living, the thread-bareness, slight as yet, of things in general. She had put it down to the Grandmother's illness—but again that had not explained the fewer horses in the stables and the simpler fare.
"Oh, poor father!" exclaimed Ragna.
"Oh, yes," said Fru Boyesen, "but it is partly his own fault; he would not take my advice, he made some imprudent investments, and of course he has had bad luck with the horses, this year of all years. Three good foals lost, and Green Hunter broke his leg and had to be shot. But that is not the point; it is this, when your Grandmother dies, and she cannot live long, poor woman, her income goes with her, and what your father and mother will do then, I do not know. Of course your father can't afford to send Ingeborg and Lotte away to school as he has sent you—and it is better for them that he can't, they can help at home and your mother need keep fewer servants. Now as to you, you are of no earthly use in the house, you know nothing about cheese and butter-making, nor of practical housekeeping. Your fine embroidery and piano playing and French and Italian won't help you here, and I know you don't want to be a burden." She paused to wipe her glasses before turning the heel in her stocking.
Ragna had listened to her, leaning her head on her hand and her elbow on her knee, the flowers quite forgotten. Being so young she was rather exhilarated than depressed by the implied suggestion that she must fend for herself.
"Don't you think, Aunt Gitta, that I might teach?"
"Teach whom? Where? One, two, three, four, um-um—Who wants to learn—five, six and seven—French here? There now, I've lost count, I must begin all over again! Don't interrupt me for five minutes."
Fru Boyesen said this intentionally in order to give Ragna time to take the situation in. The girl knew that her Aunt was quite correct: who indeed, out in the country would wish to learn anything she could teach? When she was sure the five minutes were up, she spoke again, timidly.
"I meant in a town, Aunt Gitta, or I could be a governess."
"Teach in a town! Where are your certificates, my dear?"
It was true, of certificates Ragna had none but those of elementary study. The convent gave no certificates. Her face fell.
"And as for governessing—my niece a governess? An Andersen a governess? Never."
"Well, then, Aunt Gitta, what can I do? You say yourself I can't live on here and be a burden." She had reached the point her Aunt had meant her to reach from the start.
"Listen, Ragna," she said kindly, "you know you have always been my favourite niece, you are the one who takes most after our side of the family. Now, my child, this is my proposition,"—she took Ragna's hand and held it, with a fine disregard of her knitting. "My idea is this: I have no children and I am often lonely in my house—it is too large for one woman. Now I think the best thing would be for you to come and live with me. I should look after you and give you an allowance as if you were my own daughter, and I should consider you as such.—No, don't speak yet, let me finish. I have spoken of this plan to your parents; of course they would rather keep you with them, but I pointed out to them how foolish it would be to throw away such a chance for a purely sentimental scruple. I said to them: 'The girl is grown, she is of no use to you here, and she should marry—but who? With her new ideas she won't take up with any man from these parts, she is not the kind of a girl who can marry a farmer and be happy! With me she will have the advantages of city life, and I shall keep my eye on her and her chances.' So they said they would leave it to you; if you wish to go with me, well and good—if not, you may stay with them and weigh them down!" She stopped, searching the girl's face, but Ragna did not answer at once, nor jump at the proposition as the good lady had expected.
Indeed, Ragna was by no means sure of her own mind; but a few days since, she had vowed that she would not submit to being buried alive, and yet before this most unexpected chance of escape from the monotony of country life she hesitated. An unaccountable repugnance to leaving home again, seized her—perhaps the mere spirit of contradiction called up by her Aunt's certainty as to her answer. Besides it seemed to her like a sort of treachery, an evidence of moral cowardice, to desert her parents at this juncture. But then, as her Aunt had said, what could she do to help them, at home? Nothing. On the other hand, if she accepted her Aunt's offer, and the arrangement proved impossible, she would be better situated to find employment in a city like Christiania. She knew Fru Boyesen's determined character, her love of ordering the lives of others, and doubted if life with her would be bearable for long. If it were not for that! Then she reproached herself for ingratitude—was this the way to receive such a generous offer?
"Well?" asked Fru Boyesen.
"Aunt Gitta," said Ragna slowly, choosing her words, "it is very, very good of you to want me, and if Father and Mother tell me they do not need me, I shall be glad to accept your offer."
"Well then, that's settled," said her Aunt cheerfully, "only you don't seem as pleased as you might. It's not every girl has such chances come her way, let me tell you!"
The girl leaned forward impulsively and kissed her Aunt who returned the embrace amply, and they sat in silence for a short time, until Fru Boyesen's lively tongue got the better of her. She launched into a lengthy description of her life in Christiania and of the neighbours and friends, but Ragna heard little; her thoughts were busy with the new life opening before her, as she mechanically finished tying up the flowers. As in a dream she heard fragments—details of Fru Hendersen's illness that had puzzled all the doctors, and why the Klaad girls wore blue stockings with all their frocks, and how much Ole Bjornsten had paid for his new carriage—"Most extravagant I call it,"—till her Aunt finally shook out her completed stocking and rose, brushing the moss from her skirts.
"You are a good girl, Ragna," she said commendingly, "and you have learned to talk quite interestingly."
Ragna smiled but made no comment, so they wended their way home, Aunt Gitta looming up large in front, her skirts held high displaying a well-filled pair of worsted stockings—she boasted of always knitting her own—ending in stout elastic-sided boots. Ragna followed her, outwardly meek, but inwardly convulsed with her relative's appearance, and wondering what would happen, should the bull have been in his usual pasture, for the good lady confessed to a taste for bright colours and affected a cathedral-window style of dress, and the combination she had evolved to-day was wonderful to behold. Her dress was of royal purple, over which miniature rising suns made splotches of white, her bonnet was a deep, rich blue, while a small scarlet shawl decorated her portly shoulders.
"I hope to goodness she won't try to dress me in her own style!" thought Ragna.
As they neared the house it was evident that something had happened; there was a confusion of people rushing to and fro and a servant was officiously closing the shutters of the upper rooms.
Ingeborg, standing in the doorway flew to meet them as they reached the gate.
"Oh, Aunt Gitta! Oh, Ragna!" she exclaimed in a loud hoarse whisper, looking at the same time frightened and important. "I've been looking for you everywhere! It happened an hour ago, and where you've ever been—"
Fru Boyesen took the girl by the shoulders and shook her.
"What is it? Can't you speak out? Don't beat about the bush like a fool!"
"Grandmother's dead" said the child, boldly, and burst into tears.
Fru