“Do you think,” she began falteringly, “do you think, Frithiof, it would make you less happy if I told you of a new happiness that has come to me?”
Her tone as much as the actual words suddenly enlightened him.
“Whatever makes for your happiness makes for mine,” he said, trying to read her face.
“Are you sure of that?” she said, the tears rushing to her eyes. “Oh, if I could quite believe you, Frithiof, how happy I should be!”
“Why should you doubt me?” he asked. “Come, I have guessed your secret, you are going to tell me that—”
“That Roy will some day be your brother as well as your friend,” she said, finishing his sentence for him.
He caught her hand in his and held it fast.
“I wish you joy, Sigrid, with all my heart. This puts the finishing touch to our Christmas happiness.”
“And Roy has been making such plans,” said Sigrid, brushing away her tears; “he says that just over the wall there is a charming little house back to back, you know, with this one, and it will just hold us all, for of course he will never allow us to be separated. He told me that long ago, when he first asked me.”
“Long ago?” said Frithiof; “why, what do you mean, Sigrid? I thought it was only to-night.”