Chapter 28 - Page 2

have been suggested. And matters were presently made worse by Mother
Kirstine saying, when there was a pause--

"You looked so glad last night, Elizabeth! Who was it that was sitting
with you talking yesterday?"

"It was Fru Beck."

"The young one?"

"Yes. But you talk too much, aunt."

"I am afraid so too," thought Salvé; and as he saw Elizabeth, as if
nothing had happened, motioning to him now to come away, he controlled
himself for the moment, and said a little constrainedly--

"You will be quite well, aunt, I hope, by the time I come again perhaps
in a few days. Good-bye till then."

He left the room rather brusquely, and his face was black as thunder.

Elizabeth read his thoughts, and when they came out into the kitchen she
forestalled him.

"Listen, Salvé," she said; "I must, of course, stay here as long as aunt
is ill."

"Of course," he replied; "and you have acquaintances here."

"You mean Fru Beck? Yes, she has been so kind to me, and I am attached
to her--she is unhappily married, poor thing!"

Salvé was astounded. Elizabeth seemed all in a moment to have forgotten
a great deal--to have forgotten that there existed certain
stumbling-blocks between them--was it perhaps because she was in her
aunt's house? He looked coldly at her as if he could not quite
comprehend what had come over her.

"You will remain, of course, as long as you please," he said, and
prepared to go; but could not help adding with bitterness--

"I daresay you find it lonely and dull at home."

"You are not so far wrong there, Salvé," she replied. "I have indeed
found it lonely enough out there for many years now. You are so often
away from home, and then I am left quite alone. It is two years now
since I have been in here to see my aunt."

"Elizabeth," he burst out, trying hard to restrain himself, "have you
taken leave of your senses?"

"That is just what I want to avoid, Salvé," she said, with freezing
deliberation.

He stared at her. She could stand and tell him this to his face!

"So these are your sentiments, then," he observed, scornfully. "I always
suspected it; and now, for what I care, you may please yourself about
coming home, Elizabeth," he continued in a cold, indifferent tone.

"You ought always to have known what my sentiments were, Salvé; that I
was, perhaps, too much attached to you."

"I shall send you money. You shall not have that as an excuse. So far as
I am