“See,” said Otto, when, toward evening he met Sophie in the garden, “to-day Wilhelm did not conceal his feelings!”
“I fear that you are right!” returned Sophie. “He loves Eva, and that is very unfortunate. Tell me what you know about it.”
“I know almost nothing!” said Otto, and told about little Jonas and the first meeting with Eva.
“Yes, that he has told us already himself! But do you know nothing more?” Her voice became soft, and her eyes gazed full of confidence into Otto’s.
He related to her the short conversation which he had had last autumn with Wilhelm, how angry he had been with his candid warning, and how since then they had never spoken about Eva.
“I must confide my fear to our mother!” said Sophie. “I almost now am glad that he will travel in two months, although we shall then lose you also!”
And Otto’s heart beat; the secret of his heart pressed to his lips; every moment he would speak it. But Sophie had always still another question about her brother; they were already out of the garden, already in the court-yard, and yet Otto had said nothing.
Therefore was he so quiet when, late in the evening, he and Wilhelm entered their chamber. Wilhelm also spoke no word, but his eye repeatedly rested expectantly on Otto, as if waiting for him to break the silence. Wilhelm stepped to the open window and drank in the fresh air, suddenly he turned round, flung his arms round Otto, and exclaimed, “I can no longer endure it! I must say it to some one! I love her, and will never give her up, let every one be opposed! I have now silently concealed my feelings for some months; I can do so no longer, or I shall become ill, and for that I am not made!”
“Does she know this?” asked Otto.
“No, and yes! I do not know what I should answer! Here at home I have never spoken alone with her. The last time when Weyse played on the organ at Roeskelde I had bought a pretty silk handkerchief, and this I took with me for her; I know not, but I wished to give her pleasure. There came a woman past with lovely stocks; I stood at the open window; she offered me a bouquet, and I bought it. ‘Those are lovely flowers!’ said Eva, when she entered. ‘They will fade with me!’ said I; ‘put them in water and keep there for yourself!’ She wished only to have a few, but I obliged her to take them all: she blushed, and her eyes gazed strangely down into my soul. I know not what sort of a creature I became, but it was impossible for me to give her the handkerchief; it seemed to me that this would almost be an offense. Eva went away with the flowers, but the next morning it seemed to me that she was uneasy; I fancied I saw her color come and go when I bade her adieu! She must have read the thoughts in my soul!”