His helpless words, his wretched embarrassment, moved her; her anger died down, she was again on the verge of tears, and, deeply humiliated, she said:
"Dear Coldevin, forgive me!"
She asked him to forgive her! He did not know what to say to this, but answered abstractedly:
"Forgive you? We won't speak about that—But why are you crying? I wish I hadn't met you—"
"But I am glad I met you," she said. "I wanted to meet you; I think of you always, but I never see you—I long for you often."
"Well, we won't speak about that, Miss Aagot. You know we have settled our affair. I can only wish you every happiness, every possible happiness."
Coldevin had apparently regained his self-control; he commenced even to speak about indifferent matters: Was not this a fearful storm? God knew how the ships on the high seas were faring!
She listened and answered. His composure had its effect on her, and she said quietly:
"So you are still in the city. I shall not ask you to come and see me; that would be useless. Ole and I both wanted to ask you to come with us on a little excursion, but you could not be found."
"I have seen Mr. Henriksen since then. I explained that I was engaged that Sunday anyway. I was at a party, a little dinner—So everything is well with you?"