"Cecilia," he said, "I have given a half-promise to stay until Monday, but it occurred to me that the Selliens, if they come to-morrow, will probably spend the night here, and perhaps some of your other guests, and as your accommodations are somewhat limited;--"
"You wish to go!" interrupted Cecilia; "why not say so plainly?"
She had looked up from her work, as Gotthold began to speak, with a quick, pained glance that cut him to the heart; but when she answered, her voice sounded perfectly calm, though a little hollow, and she even smiled as she took up her sewing again.
"When do you wish to go?" she added after a pause, as Gotthold, unable to reply, was still silent.
"I thought of leaving early to-morrow morning," he answered, and it seemed as if some one else had uttered the words. "Carl told me that he should send a carriage to town then."
"Early to-morrow morning!"
She had dropped her work in her lap again, and for a moment covered her eyes and forehead with her left hand, while the fingers of her right, which rested on the work, trembled slightly; then her hand fell heavily, and she stared fixedly at the ground with a frowning brow, as she said in the same hollow tone: "What reason should I have to keep you?"
"Perhaps because you might be glad to see me here," answered Gotthold.
He thought she had not heard the words, but they had been distinctly audible; the pause only lasted until she was sure that she could speak again without bursting into tears. She would not, dared not weep, and now regained her self-control.
"You know I am," she replied; "but that is no reason for wishing to keep you. I feel too well how unpleasant life is here, how monotonous, how tiresome to all who are not accustomed to it, and one cannot become accustomed to things in a few days, it requires years, long years. So I invite no one--I cannot believe anybody takes pleasure in coming; and I detain no one--I can easily imagine that a guest is glad to go. Why should I treat you differently from others?"