... Hadn't she once
expressed a regret that he was not a poet? Still, she had apologised for
that remark with such sweet and regretful eagerness; it was a thoughtless
jest. No; Aagot was innocent as a child; still, for his sake, she might
refuse an occasional invitation from Irgens....
Another long hour went by before Aagot returned. Her face was fresh and
rosy, her eyes sparkling. She threw her arms around Ole's neck; she always
did that when she had been with Irgens. Ole's misgivings dissolved and
vanished in this warm embrace; how could he reproach her now? He only
asked her to stay around the house a little more--for his sake. It was
simply unbearable to be without her so long; he could do nothing but think
of her all the time.
Aagot listened quietly to him; he was perfectly right; she would remember.
"And perhaps I might as well ask another favour of you: please try to
avoid Irgens's company a little more, just a little more. I don't mean
anything, you know; but it would be better not to give people the least
cause for talk. Irgens is my friend, and I am his, but--Now, don't mind
what I have said--"
She took his head in both her hands and turned his face toward her.
Pages:
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250