She whispered his name
and blessed him for his goodness. She called him to her, blushing
breathlessly. No, nobody was like him! He did not wrong anybody. He walked
his straightforward way, guileless and upright. How he loved her! Little
mistress, little mistress! His breast was so warm! She grew warm herself
when she nestled close to him. How he could look up from a row of figures
and smile!... Oh, she had not forgotten!...
She packed her belongings resolutely and wanted to go home in spite of
everything. The evening before she left she said good-bye to Irgens, a
protracted good-bye which rent her heart. She was his now, and Ole would
probably get over it. She made up her mind. She would go home and she
would cancel her engagement as soon as Ole returned. What would he say
when he read her letter with the ring enclosed? She writhed at the thought
that she wouldn't be near him to comfort him. She had to strike him from
afar! And thus it had to end!
Irgens was full of tenderness and cheered her as much as he could. They
should not be separated for long. If nothing else turned up he would walk
up to her on his feet! Besides, she could get back to town; she wasn't a
pauper exactly; she even owned a yacht, a real yacht--what more did she
want? And Aagot smiled at this jest and felt relieved.
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