"I love you, love you, love you! I write this weeping. I love you, love you, love you!
"Perchance this word shocks you, shocks you more than what has gone before and has called it forth. But if you knew what joy it is just to write it down and know that you will read it! You are so good, and you know that I have the most unbounded respect for you."
When Kallem came home at eight o'clock, the supper table was laid in the dining-room; the lamps were lighted in the office, and it was warm; but both rooms were empty, the big room was dark. Sigrid came in with the tea, and told him that her mistress had gone to bed.
To bed? was she ill?
"I think she was only tired."
Kallem went upstairs directly. It was dark; but he saw in the moonlight a white arm in a night-gown stretched out toward him. "Forgive me," she said; "but I felt so tired, and then there was a letter from my sister which made me sad. No, don't light the candles! It is so nice like this."
What a fresh and healthy atmosphere there was about him, his voice was so strong as he answered: "From your sister?"
"Yes, she does not thrive up yonder."
"Suppose we get her down here?"
"I was just going to ask you for that. How good you are!" and she began to cry.