"How have I deserved this?"
"Forgive us yesterday's refusal," said she. "We had not thought of this, that Tola could find no greater attachment in the whole world."
"She could not! She could not!" cried I, with ardor.
"And since the happiness of our child is for us beyond everything, we give her to you, and I can only say: God grant you both happiness!"
She pressed my temples then; after that she turned toward the door and called,—
"Tola!"
And my love came in, pale, with reddened eyes, with bits of hair dropping on her forehead, confused, moved just as I was. How it was that nothing in her escaped my attention, I know not. I only know this, I saw tears gathering under her eyelids, her quivering lips, delight breaking through the tears, and a smile under the confusion. She stood for a moment with arms hanging, as if at a loss what to do; then her father, whom, as was evident, humor never deserted, said, shrugging his shoulders,—
"Ha! a hard case to cure! he has grown stubborn, and will not have thee."
She looked at me quickly, threw herself on her father's neck, and called, as if in an outburst,—
"I do not believe it; I do not believe it!"