"Yes, Vilma, we are sure to be happy. I have spoken to your mother, and explained everything. I have a home not far from here—it was my mother's property; and my father gave it into my hands. I have had the garden put to rights. The rooms of the little house are comfortably furnished—it is there we will live. Of course your father and mother go with us."
"And Mother Liptaka," said the girl, smiling with gladness, "she is so fond of us."
"Yes, she shall go; and Vandory is sure to come often to see us."
"Oh, he is sure to come. We will get him a large arm-chair to sit in when he comes, and we will send for a glass of fresh water from the well. Oh, it will be so beautiful. And did you not say there was a garden?"
"There is a large garden, full of roses!"
"Oh, roses!" cried Vilma, clapping her hands, "and when you come back from the hunt, or from Dustbury or Tissaret, and when I hear your horse's hoofs I will come to meet you, with roses in my hair and in my hands. I will fill your room with them. Oh, happiness!"
"Vilma!" cried Akosh, seizing her hands, and covering them with kisses, "can you think—can you believe—can you dream how happy we shall be?"
Vilma withdrew her hands, and sighed. "Who knows whether all this is to be?" muttered she.
"To be?" cried Akosh, again pressing her hands to his lips, "God vouchsafes us the sight of such bliss; He gives us a deep conviction that without this bliss our life is a curse; how, then, can you doubt?"
Vilma trembled. "Akosh!" said she, "your hands are feverish. I am sure you are ill. Pray be calm."