Cecil set her teeth and the color rose to her cheeks; she moved away to the other side of the deck that she might not hear any more.
“What hateful people! they don’t care a bit for the kindness and hospitality of these Norwegians. They only mean just to use them as a convenience.” Then as her brother rejoined her she exclaimed, “Roy, who are those vulgar people over on the other side?”
“With two pretty girls in blue ulsters? I think the name is Morgan, rich city people. The old man’s not bad, but the young one’s a born snob. What do you think I heard him say as he was writing his name in the book and caught sight of ours. ‘Why, Robert Boniface—that must be the music-shop in Regent Street. Norway will soon be spoiled if all the cads take to coming over.’ And there was I within two yards of him.”
“Oh, Roy! he couldn’t have known or he would never have said it.”
“Oh, yes, he knew it well enough. It was meant for a snub, richly deserved by the presuming tradesman who dared to come to Norway for his holiday instead of eating shrimps at Margate, as such cattle should, you know!” and Roy laughed good-humoredly. Snubs had a way of gliding off him like water off a duck’s back.
“I should have hated it,” said Cecil. “What did you do?”
“Nothing; studied Baedeker with an imperturbable face, and reflected sapiently with William of Wykeham that neither birth nor calling but ‘manners makyth man.’ But look! this must be Bergen. What a glorious view! If only you had time to sketch it just from here!”
Cecil, after one quick exclamation of delight, was quite silent, for indeed few people can see unmoved that exquisite view which is unfolded before them as they round the fjord and catch the first glimpse of the most beautiful town in Norway. Had she been alone she would have allowed the tears of happiness to come into her eyes, but being on a crowded steamer she fought down her emotion and watched in a sort of dream of delight the picturesque wooden houses, the red-tiled roofs, the quaint towers and spires, the clear still fjord, with its forest of masts and rigging, and the mountains rising steep and sheer, encircling Bergen like so many hoary old giants who had vowed to protect the town.