“Have you never been abroad, Froken Uthoug?” he asked.
“I spent a winter in Berlin, once, and a few months in South Germany. I played the violin a little, you see; and I hoped to take it up seriously abroad and make something of it—but—”
“Well, why shouldn’t you?”
She was silent for a little, then at last she said: “I suppose you are sure to know about it some day, so I may just as well tell you now. Mother has been out of her mind.”
“My dear Froken—”
“And when she’s at home my—high spirits are needed to help her to be more or less herself.”
He felt an impulse to rise and go to the girl, and take her head between his hands. But she looked up, with a melancholy smile; their eyes met in a long look, and she forgot to withdraw her glance.
“I must go ashore now,” she said at last.
“Oh, so soon! Why, we have hardly begun our talk!”
“I must go ashore now,” she repeated; and her voice, though still gentle, was not to be gainsaid.