Chapter 21 - Page 2

she also let it pass without comment on
her side, but determined at the same time that she would see less of
them in future, at all events while he was at home.

It happened however, unluckily, some weeks afterwards, that she had just
been talking to some of them when he returned from an expedition to
Notterö to hire a crew for his next voyage to Amsterdam, on which she
was to accompany him. "Herr Jurgensen and his wife," she said, "had just
passed, and she had been talking to them; they were to start for
Frederiksvoern on the following day."

"And fancy!" she went on with animation, "Fru Jurgensen knows Marie
Forstberg. So I asked her to remember me to her."

"Marie Forstberg?--who is she?" asked Salvé.

"She who was so kind to me,"--she stopped here, and the colour came and
went in her face as she continued--"it was she who married--Beck's
son--the lieutenant."

"You ought to have asked Fru Jurgensen to remember me to Beck then at
the same time," he said, cuttingly, and went past her into the house
without looking her in the face.

Elizabeth followed him, feeling very uncomfortable, and after standing
for a moment in indecision, went over to him, and sitting down on his
knee, put her arm round his neck, saying--

"You are not angry with me, are you? I didn't think you would mind, or I
wouldn't have done it."

"Oh! it's quite immaterial to me, of course, who you send your love to."

"She was my best friend when I was--in Arendal," Elizabeth said,
avoiding the mention of Beck's name again.

"I don't doubt you are on the best possible terms with all these
people," Salvé said, impatiently, and making a movement as if he would
get up from his seat.

It was Elizabeth who rose first.

"Salvé!" she exclaimed, and was about to add more, when he pulled her
down to him again, and said in a gentle tone of remorse--

"Forgive me, Elizabeth. I didn't mean what I said. But I do so hate
hearing you talk of these people."

Elizabeth burst into tears, protesting against his want of confidence in
her; and Salvé, now thoroughly distressed at the result of his want of
self-control, overwhelmed her with tenderness in his endeavours to
appease her. He succeeded after a while, and the evening was passed in
such sunshine as only succeeds to storm.

After a quarrel of the kind, however, there must be always something
left behind, and though Salvé was doubly affectionate for many days,
afterwards he grew more and more silent, and presently even irritable
and moody, and would not go to