"And you wished, to remain unseen, or at least undisturbed. But could I have guessed that I should find you here? Why are you not away with the others?"
A smile flitted over her face.
"I had important letters to write, too."
"Well, you have written, anyhow."
"And have you not? For shame. If you make any excuses you should yourself take them in earnest; then you will come to fancy afterwards that the excuses were really valid."
"I'll remember this in future. But what makes you tell me to my face that my important letters were but an excuse?"
"I thought that you did not care to go; and I think I know the reason why."
"Indeed! I am curious to hear it from you."
"I will tell you. I wanted to say so last night already, for then I noticed quite well how gladly you would have made an excuse, only you could not at the moment think of a suitable one; but I could not have said what I wished to say in a few words, and so I determined to try and have an undisturbed talk with you. Shall we not sit down?"
They sat dawn, Erna with her blotting-book before her, Bertram on the seat opposite. Her large eyes were lifted up to him. But a minute before he had greatly longed to be able to see deep, deep into these eyes, right to the innermost recess of her soul; and now, when it could be, when it was to be, he shrank from it, he wished the time deferred. He would in any case learn the secret all too soon.