“And when is that?”
Christina’s face was turned away. “When he has ceased to love her.”
The soul in old Nick’s body leapt with joy. “He is not worthy of you, Christina. His new fortune has changed him. Is it not so? He thinks only of money. It is as though the soul of a miser had entered into him. He would marry even Dame Toelast for the sake of her gold-bags and her broad lands and her many mills, if only she would have him. Cannot you forget him?”
“I shall never forget him. I shall never love another man. I try to hide it; and often I am content to find there is so much in the world that I can do. But my heart is breaking.” She rose and, kneeling beside him, clasped her hands around him. “I am glad you have let me tell you,” she said. “But for you I could not have borne it. You are so good to me.”
For answer he stroked with his withered hand the golden hair that fell disordered about his withered knees. She raised her eyes to him; they were filled with tears, but smiling.
“I cannot understand,” she said. “I think sometimes that you and he must have changed souls. He is hard and mean and cruel, as you used to be.” She laughed, and the arms around him tightened for a moment. “And now you are kind and tender and great, as once he was. It is as if the good God had taken away my lover from me to give to me a father.”
“Listen to me, Christina,” he said. “It is the soul that is the man, not the body. Could you not love me for my new soul?”
“But I do love you,” answered Christina, smiling through her tears.
“Could you as a husband?” The firelight fell upon her face. Nicholas, holding it between his withered hands, looked into it long and hard; and reading what he read there, laid it back against his breast and soothed it with his withered hand.
“I was jesting, little one,” he said. “Girls for boys, and old women for old men. And so, in spite of all, you still love Jan?”