I cannot, indeed, conceive how she could have borne it so long, for the whole character of the man came out, hard, cold, and narrow,—such a character as must be more hideous than any description can paint it, when seen in the closeness of daily conversation. But when he was gone the sun appeared to shine again, as he had shone all day, though it had sometimes seemed so dark. The storms were in that little room.
As Lira went out, Nino, who had followed Hedwig closely, caught her in his arms, and once more her face rested on his broad breast. I sat down and pretended to be busy with a pile of old papers that lay near by on the table, but I could hear what they said. The dear children, they forgot all about me.
"I am so sorry, dear one," said Nino soothingly.
"I know you are, Nino. But it cannot be helped."
"But are you sorry, too, Hedwig?" he asked, stroking her hair.
"That my father is angry? Yes. I wish he were not," said she, looking wistfully toward the door.
"No, not that," said Nino. "Sorry that you left him, I mean."
"Ah, no, I am not sorry for that. Oh, Nino, dear Nino, your love is best." And again she hid her face.
"We will go away at once, darling," he said, after a minute, during which I did not see what was going on. "Would you like to go away?"
Hedwig moved her head to say "Yes."