“We can light them again from the fire,” answered Nicholas. He did not add that he had meant to ask that same question of Jan. He thrust them among the glowing logs, first one and then the other; and the shadows crept back into their corners.
“You will not stop and see Christina?” asked Nicholas.
“Not to-night,” answered Jan.
“The paper that I signed,” Nicholas reminded him—“you have it?”
“I had forgotten it,” Jan answered.
The old man took it from the desk and handed it to him. Jan thrust it into his pocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the door behind him and returned to his desk; sat long there, his elbow resting on the open ledger.
Nicholas pushed the ledger aside and laughed. “What foolery! As if such things could be! The fellow must have bewitched me.”
Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmed his hands before the blaze. “Still, I am glad he is going to marry the little lass. A good lad, a good lad.”
Nicholas must have fallen asleep before the fire. When he opened his eyes, it was to meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff, hungry, and decidedly cross. Why had not Christina woke him up and given him his supper. Did she think he had intended to pass the night on a wooden chair? The girl was an idiot. He would go upstairs and tell her through the door just what he thought of her.
His way upstairs led through the kitchen. To his astonishment, there sat Christina, asleep before the burnt-out grate.