“How nice it would be,” he thought, “if they would bury her, too, beneath the three fir-trees; then mother would have a good neighbor and—”
He started! As quick as lightning his brain had pictured how, on a beautiful spring evening, he might meet Elsbeth there, who would come and sit near the grave that belonged to her, as he would come to his.
“But it is better as it is,” he said to himself; “how could I ever find courage to look into her eyes again?—I, who lurk about the road at night to get husbands for my wretched sisters!”
Then suddenly the twins came running up breathless; they trembled all over and struggled for words.
“What is the matter, children?”
Greta hid her head on his shoulder, and Kate sniffled like a child trying to keep back its tears.
“They have come,” they stammered, and then they both began to sob.
“That is a good thing,” answered Paul, and kissed them.
“Won’t you come into the house?” Katie asked, sucking her apron.
“Where have you left them?”