“I believe she would make an excellent wife,” said Wareham, keeping on open ground.
Anne said no more. She asked questions as to how the salmon got up these rivers, and announced her intention of trying to catch one when next she went to Scotland. At last Wareham looked at his watch.
“There is time enough to take it as coolly as you like,” he said, “but perhaps we had better go back.”
Anne sprang up.
“I am ready. As we cannot stay, I believe I shall be sorry to leave Gudvangen.” Wareham’s heart throbbed.
“I shall never forget it,” he said.
“Never? Why? Was Bakke so delightful a place?”
“I leave you to imagine why,” he said, in a low voice.
“Leave me nothing in the form of a riddle,” said Anne; “I shall disappoint you.”
He raged again. Were all his chances to slip by? There are moments when we feel as if we rode upon the wave, as if what we wanted was just within our grasp. This was such a moment, and he was bound—could not so much as stretch out his hand. His heart, submitting sullenly, would say something.