Chapter 11 - Page 2

that way.

Later on in the evening Carl met her alone, as she was putting things to
rights out on the steps after the departed guests, and he said
half-anxiously--

"I hope you didn't mind what that blustering old brute said, Elizabeth.
He is a very good fellow really, and doesn't mean anything by his
nonsense."

Elizabeth was silent, and tried to avoid answering by going in with what
she had in her hands.

"Come, I won't stand your being offended, Elizabeth," he broke out
suddenly, firing up in a moment, and trying to catch her by the arm.
"That hand you work with is dearer to me than the hands of all the fine
ladies put together."

"Herr Beck!" she exclaimed wildly, and with tears in her eyes, "I leave
this house--this very night--if you say a word more."

She disappeared into the hall, but he followed her.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, "I mean it in earnest." She tore herself
hastily from him, and went into the kitchen, where his sisters were
talking together over the fire.

Carl went out for a solitary walk over the island in the glorious
starlight night, and didn't come in till past midnight.

He had not meant what he said quite so decidedly in earnest; but now
after seeing her standing before him so wondrously beautiful, with tears
in her eyes--now he meant it in real earnest. He was prepared to engage
himself, if necessary, in spite of every consideration.

The next morning he left in his boat for Arendal, having whispered to
her, however, in passing, before he left, "I mean it in earnest."

The repetition of these words threw Elizabeth into dire perplexity. She
had lain and thought over them the night before, and had thrust them
from her with indignation, for they could mean nothing else than that he
had brought himself to dare to tell her that he had conceived a passion
for her, and she had quite determined to execute her threat and leave
the house.

But now, repeated in this tone!

Did he really mean to ask for her hand and heart--to ask her to be
his--an officer's wife? There lay before her fancy a glittering expanse
of earlier dreams that almost made her giddy; and the whole week she was
absent and pale, thinking anxiously of Sunday, when he was to return.
What would he say then?

And--what should she answer?

He didn't come, however, his duties having required him to make another
journey that he had not reckoned upon.

On the other hand Marie Forstberg did appear, and felt at once that some
change or other must have come over Elizabeth, as she pointedly declined
all assistance from her; and in the look which Marie Forstberg