"Thanks! thanks, Louise!" exclaimed Jacobi, grasping her hand, and pressing it to his breast and to his lips; "oh, how happy this kindness makes me! Now I can breathe again! Now I can leave you with a cheerful heart!"
"But why will you leave us?" asked she, in a half-discontented tone.
"Because," answered Jacobi, "it would not give me pleasure to witness a betrothal which will soon be celebrated; because, from your late behaviour, I must be convinced you cannot entertain any warmer sentiments towards me."
"If that were the case," replied she, in the same tone as before, "I should not have been depressed so long."
"How!" exclaimed Jacobi, joyfully. "Ah, Louise, what words! what bold hopes may they not excite! Might I mention them to you? might I venture to say to you what I some time have thought, and still now think?"
Louise was silent, and Jacobi continued:
"I have thought," said he, "that the humble, unprovided-for Jacobi could offer you a better fortune than your rich neighbour of Oestanvik. I have hoped that my love, the true dedication of my whole life, might make you happy; that a smaller portion of worldly wealth might satisfy you, if it were offered you by a man who know deeply your worth, and who desired nothing better than to be ennobled by your hand. Oh, if this beloved hand would guide me through life, how bright, how peaceful would not life be! I should fear neither adversity nor temptation! and how should I not endeavour to be grateful to Providence for his goodness to me! Ah, Louise! it is thus that I have thought, and fancied, and dreamed! Oh, tell me, was it only a dream, or may not the dream become a reality?"
Louise did not withdraw the hand which he had taken, but looked upon the speaker with infinite kindness.
"One word," besought Jacobi, "only one word! Might I say my Louise? Louise—mine?"
"Speak with my parents," said Louise, deeply blushing, and turning aside her head.