"Nor was I either at all sorry to have my pincushion and things left in peace. But when you came home three years later, then the leaf had turned itself over; then it was otherwise. Then became I truly proud of my brother."
"And I of my sister. Do you know, Alette, I think you must actually break off with Lexow. I really cannot do without you. Remain with me, instead of going with him up into the shivering, cold North, which you really never can like."
"You must ask Lexow about that, my brother."
Thus continued the conversation long, and became by degrees more serious and still. The brother and sister seemed to talk of their future, and that is always a solemn matter, but ever and anon burst forth a hearty laughter from the midst of their consultations. It went on to midnight, but neither of them appeared to mark this.
Susanna, during the conversation of the relatives, had retired to the next room, so as to leave them the more freedom. Her bosom was oppressed by unwonted and melancholy feelings. With her brow leaned against the cool window panes, she gazed out into the lovely summer evening, while she listened to the soft and familiar voices within. The twilight cast its soft dusky veil over the dale; and tree and field, hill and plain, heaven and earth, seemed to mingle in confidential silence. In the grass slumbered the flowers, leaning on each other; and from amongst the leaves, which gently waved themselves side by side, Susanna seemed to hear whispered the words, "Brother! Sister!" With an ineffable yearning opened she her arms as if she would embrace some one—but when they returned again empty to her bosom, tears of anguish rolled over her cheeks, while her lips whispered, "Little Hulda!"
Little Hulda, all honour to thy affections, to thy radiant locks; but I do not believe that Susanna's tears now flowed alone for thee.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] "Fattig Leilighed"—"poor opportunity"—is the name given in merriment to the cooking-up the remains of the week's provisions, which generally is brought out on a Saturday.