Hannah Gropphusen stood on the threshold, a weary expression on her pale face; she was clad in a loose flowing gown of thin white silk. Her shoulders scarcely seemed fit to bear the weight of anything heavier than this light airy texture. Her small head was bowed as though unable to support the burden of her hair.
Her eyes expressed the astonished query: "How come you here?" And she stepped back hesitatingly.
"I have come on business," stammered Reimers.
Hannah opened the door and signed to him to enter. Her noiseless steps preceded him as she led him into her own little sitting-room.
She seated herself on the edge of the sofa and pointed to a chair.
"Won't you sit down?" she said gently. But Reimers remained standing, gazing down upon the woman he loved. At last he was near her; he could see her and hear her voice.
She raised her eyes to his, as if asking why he would not be seated. Their glances met, greeting and caressing each other in the first shy emotion of love.
The man threw himself down before the woman, covering her feet, her dress, her hands, her knees with kisses, and sobbing out the irrepressible confession of his love, over and over again, in unceasing repetition: "I love you! how I love you! I love you! how I love you!"
Hannah suffered his protestations silently. An unspeakable bliss weighed upon her and paralysed her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and as though in the far distance she heard the soothing call of love: "I love you! how I love you!"
She bent over him with a glad, loving look. Her deep blue eyes shone darkly and protectingly, like the night sky.