“Yesterday!” she cried eagerly. “Yesterday, on Munkeggen?”
“Yes; all that now remains is to get Mr. Morgan’s consent to our betrothal.”
“Oh, Frithiof, I am so glad! so very glad! How pleased father will be! I think you must write and let him know.”
“If he will keep it quite secret,” said Frithiof; “but of course not a word must be breathed until her father has consented. There is no engagement as yet, only we know that we love each other.”
“That ought to be enough to satisfy you till the autumn. And it was so nice of you to tell me, Frithiof. Oh, I don’t think I could have borne it if you had chosen to marry some girl I didn’t like. As for Blanche, there never was any one more sweet and lovely.”
It seemed that Frithiof’s happiness was to bring happiness to the whole family. Even little Swanhild guessed the true state of things, and began to frame visions of the happy future when the beautiful English girl should become her own sister; while as to Herr Falck, the news seemed to banish entirely the heavy depression which for some time had preyed upon him. And so, in spite of the waiting, the time slipped by quickly to Frithiof, the mere thought of Blanche’s love kept him rapturously happy, and at the pretty villa in Kalvedalen there was much laughter and mirth, and music and singing—much eager expectation and hope, and much planning of a future life which should be even more full and happy.
At length, when the afternoons closed in early, and the long winter was beginning to give signs of its approach, Frithiof took leave of his home, and, on one October Saturday, started on his voyage to England. It was, in a sense, the great event of his life, and they all instinctively knew that it was a crisis, so that Sigrid drew aside little Swanhild at the last, and left the father and son to have their parting words alone.
“I look to you, Frithiof,” the father said eagerly, “I look to you to carry out the aims in which I myself have failed—to live the life I could wish to have lived. May God grant you the wife who will best help you in the struggle! I sometimes think, Frithiof, that things might have gone very differently with me had your mother been spared.”
“Do you not let this depression influence you too much, father?” said Frithiof. “Why take such a dark view of your own life? I shall only be too happy if I make as much of the world as you have done. I wish you could have come to England too. I think you want change and rest.”
“Ah!” said Herr Falck, laughing, “once over there you will not echo that wish. No, no, you are best by yourself when you go a-wooing, my son. Besides, I could not possibly leave home just now; we shall have the herring-fleet back from Iceland before many days.”