And she gazed, still wistfully,—doubtfully in her lover’s face.
“I will show you,” said he, smiling. And while he still held her with one arm, lest, in some sudden fancy, she should fly him as a ghost, he used the other hand to empty his pockets of the beautiful shells he had brought, tossing them into her lap.
“Did you ever see such, Erica? I have been where they lie in heaps. Did you ever see such beauties?”
“I never did, Rolf; you have been at the bottom of the sea.”
And once more she shrank from what she took for the grasp of a drowned man.
“Not to the bottom, love,” replied he, still clasping her hand. “Our fiord is deep; perhaps as deep as they say. I dived as deep as a man may, to come up with the breath in his body; but I could never find the bottom. Did I not tell you that I should go down as far as Vogel island; and that I should there be safe?”
“Yes! You did—you did!”
“Well! I went to Vogel island; and here I am safe!”
“It is you! We are together again!” she exclaimed now in full belief. “Thank God! Thank God!”
As she wept upon his shoulder, he told her where he had been, what perils he had met, how he had been saved, and how he had arrived the first moment he could; and then he went on to declare that their enemies would soon be disposed of, that they would be married, that they would take possession of Peder’s house, and make him comfortable, and would never be separated again as long as they lived.